Page 88 of Josephine and Clay

Boone glances toward it, and something in his expression shifts.

I follow his gaze.

At first, I only register movement.

A man coming down the porch steps awkwardly, one crutch planted too far ahead, a heavy cast stretched out in front of him. His dark hair is sleep-messy, his shoulders tense, his jaw tight with irritation or pain or both.

Then he lifts his head.

The whole ranch seems to drop away beneath me.

Clay.

This is the McCoy Ranch?

Shit.

He stops dead.

So do I.

For one suspended second, neither of us moves.

The heat. The barn. Boone beside me. Rusty in the dust. The calf, the paperwork, the careful composure I’ve spent all morning arranging around myself.

All of it goes silent.

Clay’s blue eyes lock on mine. Shock hits his face first. Then recognition. Then something I can’t read at all.

My hand tightens around the strap of my field bag until it bites into my palm.

Of course, with two secrets beating quietly inside me and his message still unanswered in my phone, the only thing my traitorous mouth can manage is a breathless, useless…

“Clay.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Clay

JUNE 24TH

I know exactly two things the second I see her. One, I didn’t imagine her. And two, I'm absolutely not prepared for this.

The way she says my name lands somewhere between surprise and something tighter, that I can’t quite pin down before it’s already sitting heavy in my chest.

“Josie.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

It’s as if I just remembered how words work.

She stands there in the dust with her bag slung over her shoulder, hair pulled back, cheeks flushed from the heat, and eyes locked on me, trying to figure out whether I’m real or just another problem she doesn’t have time for today.

Fair.

I don’t look much better.

Crutches, cast, sweat already sticking my shirt to my back from the effort it took just to get down the damn porch steps. Probably look like a man who lost a fight with something mean and came out worse for it. Boone cuts through the silence. “You two know each other?”