Page 4 of Pure Bred

I round the corner of the barn, and that’s when I see him. Logan’s broad back is turned to me as he leans over an old tractor, tools scattered around him. His flannel shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing muscular forearms, and his worn jeans are stained with grease and dust. His neck, thick and strong from years of hard work, is tanned and glistening with sweat under the afternoon sun.

My breath catches in my throat. This isn’t the lanky boy I left behind. Logan has grown into a man—all rippling muscles and rugged strength. I find myself frozen, unable to look away from the flex of his shoulders as he works.

My heart races, a mix of nerves and something else I can’t quite name. I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

“Logan?” I call out.

My former boyfriend pauses at the sound of my voice.

And then he slowly begins to turn around.

3

LOGAN

Ifreeze, wrench in hand, heart pounding.

That voice. It can’t be.

But then I turn, and there she is. Sierra Noelle Adams. Holy shit. She’s not the girl I remember, but a stunning woman with curves that make my mouth go dry.

“Logan,” she says again, softer this time.

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “Sierra. This is unexpected.”

Twelve years. It’s been twelve damn years since she left for that singing competition. I remember watching her on TV, my chest swelling with pride as she blew everyone away. My girl, living her dream.

But then everything moved so fast. One day she was here, the next she was whisked off to LA. I tried to be supportive, I really did. We talked constantly at first—texts, calls, video chats. I held onto every word, every glimpse of her new life.

Then her debut album came out. She got busier, and our talks got shorter. I’d find myself staring at my phone, willing it to ring. The day I realized we hadn’t spoken in twenty-four hours, I knew I’d lost her.

It hurt like hell, but I never resented her for it. How could I? She was chasing her passion, just like I was here on the ranch.

But I never got over her.

So I did what any red-blooded Montana boy would do. I buried myself in work, convinced myself the ranch was enough. Who needs love when you’ve got horses to tend and fences to mend?

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Sierra is standing in front of me, looking at me with warm brown eyes, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

But it has. We’re not kids anymore.

“It’s good to see you,” I manage to say, my voice a little rougher than I’d like. I resist the urge to pull her into a hug. We don’t have that closeness anymore. “What brings you back to Eagle Falls?”

“I needed a break,” she says, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Thought I’d come home for a bit.”

I nod, not sure what to say. There’s so much I want to ask, so much I want to tell her. But the words stick in my throat.

“Do you have time to hang out for a while?” she asks, hope in her voice. “Maybe catch up?”

My heart leaps, but I keep my face neutral. “Yeah, of course,” I say, wiping my hands on a rag. “Let me just finish up here.”

I turn back to the tractor, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts. She’s here. Sierra’s actually here. Despite my stoic reaction, I’m happy to see her. So damn happy.

But I can’t let myself get carried away. She’s America’s Sweetheart. And I’m just...me. Logan Magnuson, rancher. Two very different worlds.

I close up the tractor’s engine and face her again. I gesture toward the pastures. “All set. Want to take a walk?”

Sierra nods, falling into step beside me. The crisp autumn air gently swirls around us, smelling sweetly of apples. We walk in silence for a moment, leaves crunching beneath our feet.

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