Page 6

“Well, I landed ahead of schedule. Figured I’d drive straight out here.” She hooked her fingers over the top rail. The wood was rough, warm from the sun. “Rebecca said this place would work perfectly. That you were the best.”

Delaney saw it happen the moment she said Rebecca’s name. Claire’s gloved hands went still on the lead rope for half a beat, just long enough for Delaney to notice, and then kept feeding it through like nothing had changed. The mare kept her slow circle in the dirt, unbothered.

Claire looked over then, really looked at her for the first time. Blue eyes steady and unimpressed. Delaney felt that glance take in the sneakers and the shirt and the hair in one quick pass, and heat rose up the back of her neck. She held herself still under it.

“Rebecca says a lot of things,” Claire said. She used that same low steadiness she’d used on the mare, calm and unhurried. Delaney felt it settle somewhere low in her stomach and told herself it was just first-day nerves.

“First lesson’s at six tomorrow,” Claire said. “A.M.”

Delaney blinked. “As in morning?”

A faint twitch at the corner of Claire’s mouth. Not quite a smile. “That’s what A.M. usually means.”

Delaney caught the apology halfway out, the practiced kind she’d been handing out on press tours for years, and swallowed it. People in her world either deferred to her or worshipped her. Nobody teased. Claire’s almost-smile didn’t want anything from her, no angle to read, no camera to play to. Real. Her own smile got loose before she could stop it.

“Fair. I probably deserve that.” She glanced at the mare. The horse watched her back with clear suspicion, same as her owner. “I should warn you, my riding experience is basically one scene where they doubled all the actual horse parts. I sat on a very patient gelding for about twenty minutes while they got the close-ups.”

Claire nodded, slow and easy, the way you might acknowledge a change in the weather. It was the response Delaney had known she’d give, the confirmation that her inexperience was no surprise, only another fact to be worked around. She unclipped the lead rope from the mare’s halter with a soft click of the carabiner, giving the animal a gentle swat on the hindquarter. The dun mare blew out a breath and drifted away, hooves whispering through the soft dirt as she moved to the far side of the pen to lipped at a tuft of grass along the rail.

“Maple’s got the patience for it,” Claire said, her gaze tracking the mare’s retreat before coming back to rest on Delaney. There was a quiet certainty in the statement, an unshakable faith in the horse that Delaney immediately envied. “She’s the one you’ll be on for training. Chestnut mare in the south stall, right next to the tack room.”

“Great.” Delaney pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I brought the latest draft if you want to read it.”

Claire’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted behind her eyes. “I’ve already read it.”

The admission dropped between them. Her eyebrows went up. “You did?”

“Yeah. Well. I needed to know what I’d be signing on for.” Claire coiled the rope with efficient movements, scarred forearms flexing. “Your June character. She’s got some rough edges.”

Delaney gripped the fence rail tighter. Not with embarrassment exactly. More like the thrill of someone actually engaging with the words she’d bled onto those pages alone in her office at two in the morning. “She’s supposed to. Starts out thinking she knows everything, and the ranch teaches her otherwise.”

Claire looked at her then, unhurried, like she was reweighing something about June Calloway and had no intention of sharing the result. Those blue eyes held steady, and Delaney forgot whatever she’d been about to say next.

The height difference was more obvious up close. Two inches, maybe three. Delaney would have to tip her head back, and the thought arrived uninvited, fully formed, trailing an image she had no business carrying within an hour of stepping out of a rental car.

Delaney hadn’t come here for that.

She’d come to make her film, to remember why she used to love this work before the press tours and the back-to-back shoots had worn her down. She’d come to get away from the version of herself the cameras always demanded. Not to develop an immediate, inconvenient crush on the woman whose ranch made the whole thing possible.

Delaney dropped her gaze to the rail instead, pressed her thumb into the rough timber. It wasn’t attraction. It was gratitude, really. Claire was letting this all happen on her property, and yes, she was getting compensated for it, but she could’ve said no.

But God. The way Claire stood there in her worn boots, completely unimpressed by her fame, sleeves rolled like she had actual important things to do. It was incredibly attractive. In an objective way. Not necessarily to her.

“You planning to stand there watching me work all afternoon?” Claire asked.

A laugh got out of Delaney before she could stop it. “No. I should probably get my stuff inside. Rebecca said I’d be in the guest room’s upstairs?”

“Through the mudroom. The crew’s at the motel or the bunkhouse, so the house stays closed except for you.” Claire’s gaze dropped to Delaney’s sneakers again. “Those won’t last a day here.”

“I know.” Delaney gestured at her whole outfit. “I was dressed to travel, not to ride horses. I’ll need to go find somewhere to get some suitable clothing, I guess.”

“Juniper Feed and Tack. They’ll set you up.” Claire paused, then added, almost reluctant, “Eli can show you around the barn later if you want. He’s my ranch hand.”

The offer felt like a small concession. Delaney took it. “I’d like that. And thank you. For agreeing to this. I know it’s disruptive.”

Claire’s shoulders moved in what might have been a shrug. The loose strands of blonde hair caught the afternoon light, turning gold against her tanned neck. Delaney’s fingers itched with the absurd urge to tuck them back for her. She shoved her hands in her hoodie pockets instead.

“It’s only for a few weeks.”