Page 253 of Josephine and Clay

I fold my arms. "Clay."

He steps closer. "You trust me?"

My answer comes easier than it would've a few weeks ago. "Yes."

The warmth that flashes through his eyes almost steals my breath. "Good."

I narrow my eyes. "That wasn't enough information."

"Get in the truck, Doc."

I stare at him. He answers with a smile that says he's enjoying this far too much.

Despite my curiosity, despite my growing suspicion that this surprise involves far more planning than he's admitting, I find myself smiling back.

Whatever he's about to show me, he's excited about it, and lately I've discovered that watching Clay look forward to the future is one of my favorite things.

"Fine," I say.

His grin turns victorious. "Excellent."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Clay

AUGUST 20TH

The second Josie steps into the barn, I start questioning whether this was a good idea.

It isn't because of the cribs. Those are finished.

Boone helped me make sure they're sturdy enough to survive a small tornado, a herd of cattle, or whatever destruction two McCoy kids eventually decide to unleash on the world.

No, the problem is standing beside me.

Josie has spent the last few months trying very hard not to trust me, and I've spent most of the last few years giving people reasons not to. That isn't exactly a combination that inspires confidence.

She follows me deeper into the barn, her boots scuffing softly against the packed dirt floor. Dust drifts through the late afternoon sunlight pouring through the high windows, bathing the barn in gold.

Then she sees them.

Her steps falter before stopping altogether, and I resist the urge to fill the silence.

The urge is there. A nervous joke or a stupid comment to break the tension.

For once, I manage to keep my mouth shut. She deserves space to take this in without me crowding it.

Slowly, she walks toward the cribs.

I watch her fingers trail across the nearest rail, her touch careful enough that you'd think the wood might disappear if she pressed too hard.

The barn settles into silence except for cattle calling from the far pasture.

"You built these?"

Her voice is quiet.

I nod. "Yeah."