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Cash looked down at me.

His eyes were green and thoughtful, the grin absent.

“He came to check,” I said.

“Wy checks everything.”

“On you.”

Cash looked back toward the drive.

“Yeah.”

“On Boone too.”

“Yeah.”

“He stayed exactly long enough to make sure everyone was all right.”

Cash’s thumb moved over my shoulder.

“Seventeen minutes.”

“He allowed twenty in the schedule.”

“That’s practically a vacation.”

We stood quietly.

Behind us, Josie praised Boone’s new drawing with more generosity than accuracy. Boone said one word. She laughed. The sound filled the little room, traveled through the finished living room, and reached the kitchen where my Montana registration still lay beside the breakfast plates.

“It’s a shame Wyatt hasn’t got anyone,” I said.

Cash huffed softly. “Wyatt’s too busy for a girlfriend.”

The answer arrived quickly.

Too quickly.

I looked up at him.

He looked down at me.

Neither of us looked sure.

“He could schedule one,” I said.

Cash’s mouth twitched. “Tuesday, four fifteen to four forty-five. Emotional intimacy. Bring supporting documents.”

“Thursday follow-up pending water conditions.”

“Quarterly review.”

“Performance metrics.”

“Jesus. Maybe we should keep women away from him.”

I smiled.