Page 63 of Until Then

“If you want to see our girl in action,” Greer says before she turns to leave. “You ought to head to the ranch right now. She’s quite a sight when she’s working. I hear Nan is smitten with you. She’ll take care of you.”

Once I’m alone, I waste no time racing back upstairs, only to grab my keys and wallet, before I speed out of the city, the perfect excuse to see my girl.

This time when I arrive at the ranch, I’m greeted less like the plague and more like a cautious guest. Milton waves, and Justin nods his head.

Alice steps through the front door before I even finish climbing the stairs.

“There’s Mr. Famous.” Hayley’s grandmother wipes her hands on a dishtowel before tossing it over her shoulder.

“Hello, ma’am.”

“Tell me, when do you Southern boys lose the ma’am business?”

“Never.” I flash her a grin. “Not unless we’re specifically told to call you by something else.”

“Well, call me Alice or Nan, then. I feel old with ma’am.” She holds out an arm, beckoning me inside. “Get on in here, you look half-starved.”

I glance down my chest. I thought I was filling out a bit. Filming will start in the next few months, so it’s back to the trainers and workouts and—ugh—macros.

Alice takes me into the kitchen, never leaving a moment to ask about Hayley. I haven’t seen her, and now I’m wondering if I ought to have driven straight to her acre. Hard to do when the road cuts alongside the main house and everyone was watching me drive up.

Seemed better to visit here first, I guess.

Once I’m properly plated with sliced apples and a cup of peanut butter (Alice insisted I needed protein) she points me toward the back door, leading to the pastures and arenas. “I take it you didn’t come here to visit me. Hayley Mae is working, but she’s on her last session.”

Alice walks us to the nearest arena. There, in the middle, is Hayley, leading a horse with a kid on the back.

My wildfire is stunning. Tight jeans that leave nothing to my imagination. Dusty leather boots. A straw hat over her long fiery braid.

I’m about to shove past a kid all to get my hands on his therapist for a minute or two. Instead, I calm the inner caveman and watch how she works, how she moves, how she laughs, full and light every time the kid cracks a joke.

The boy can’t be older than ten. He’s wearing a helmet, but his legs dangle on the side of the horse.

Alice props her forearms on the top of the fence and steals one of my apples. “He was born with spina bifida, and uses his chair there.”

A small wheelchair is parked by a woman—the kids’ mom, I assume—and it looks like it could race if he wanted.

Hayley is telling the boy something, and in the next breath, the kid straightens his back. They start walking again—the horse with Hayley at its side.

“The way she explains it,” Alice goes on as though she knows I want to ask. “The motion of the horse mimics our hip movements. It’ll help him strengthen all those core muscles and his pelvis a bit. Sort of like working his body the way it would if he was walking on his own two feet.”

In truth, I’m mesmerized, pulled into Hayley’s confidence, her gentility with the way she handles both child and horse. The kid is sweating by the time they circle around to his mom, but there’s a smile on his face the size of the state.

He loves it.

The horse loves it.

Hayley loves it.

I’m pretty sure I love her.

A lot of love is going around.

I pull out my phone. As promised, I have every intention to share what I’m seeing with others. They need to know what she’s doing here. If I can give a taste of her goodness to the world, this will be more than worth it.

Even if she doesn’t want me in the end.

I’ll forget that part is even an option for now.

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