Page 16 of His Texas Claim

I didn’t talk much. Didn’t mean I was a good listener. But…she seemed to think I was, and I didn’t want to prove her wrong.

The fire had burned down further, coals more than flame now. The creek babbled along beside us, a Texas lullaby.

“I don’t know why I told you all that,” she said. “Hardly know you.”

“Needed to get it out, I guess,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t mind it.”

She smiled at me across the fire—then she sighed and got to her feet. It really did look like she wasn’t favoring that foot anymore as she took a few steps to the tent, flashing me one more smile before slipping inside.

Buck looked like he was going to follow her for a moment before he shuffled over to me instead. I reached out to scratch his ears.

There was something just…good about it. About a person who cried over the tiniest creatures.

I did like her.

But I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

SIX

Bryn

I couldn’t believe I’d told him all that stuff.

It actually stopped me coming out of my tent first thing—because I could hear him out there, moving around, setting up a fire to make breakfast…and I was so, so embarrassed. I’d just met him, and I’d told him about my ex. I told him that I’d been pregnant. I told him about my baby.

The baby that had never actually been a baby…never been anything, but had still ended a three-year relationship and sent me running to the Hill Country.

And the thing was…Stetson didn’t bring it up.

Not when I came out of my tent. Not when we had breakfast together. Not when he decided that I still shouldn’t be walking on my foot, so we were going to get back on the horse together…which, surprisingly, I didn’t hate.

Actually, I really liked it?

It started to rain around mid-afternoon, starting as a nice reprieve from the heat and quickly turning into dense, thick humidity. I pulled my hood up, the rain pattering against it, my pulse picking up. I knew this could be a good sign…that it could be just what I was waiting for.

Then—there it was.

“Stop!” I blurted out.

Stetson pulled up short. “What?”

“Listen.”

He went still. I held my breath, straining to hear over the rain on my hood until I finally just yanked it off to let the rain stream down my face.

Then it came again.

A thin, clicking chirp.

“There,” I whispered. “Do you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“That.” I grabbed Stetson’s arm. “That’s him. That’s the call.”

I was getting off the horse before I even realized it—not even knowing that I was moving, practically flinging myself to the ground. I hurtled face-first into the creek in the process, but I didn’t care; just shook it off, whipped around to grab my recorder out of my pack, spooked Copper in the process. That didn’t matter either; I got the recorder and waded into the water, then I just…stood there.

Waiting for the direction.