Page 43 of Open Arms

“Ya know, Mason,” Walker began without looking up from the reins, “Caroline and I, we weren’t exactly a sure bet either.”

A snort escaped me. “That’s an understatement.”

“Hey now,” he protested with a chuckle, “I’m serious. Remember how she used to be? Doc Cressley’s shy little girl,back from med school all grown-up and sophisticated. Me? Just a cowboy with more charm than sense.” He paused, securing the horse before facing us. “But sometimes, it’s about digging past the surface, finding that connection despite all the odds.”

“Sounds like a fairytale,” I said, but my skepticism was waning. Watching him with Caroline lately, anyone could see the change in him.

“More like a comedy of errors at first,” Walker admitted with a grin. “But worth every awkward moment.”

“Must’ve been some magic in those errors.” Gray chimed in, his arms crossed as he nodded knowingly. The fading light caught the edges of his stubble, highlighting his normally stern features in a softer glow.

“Magic?” Walker cocked an eyebrow. “Try sheer determination. My own. And look at us now.”

“Speaking of magic . . .” Gray cut in, his tone shifting slightly, “remember when I first met Eryn?”

“Hard to forget,” I replied, recalling the stir that had caused around town.

“City girl, yoga guru, and social media sensation,” he mused. “And there’s me, covered in dust most days, happier on the back of a horse than in front of a camera. I thought I hated her. But that first kiss . . . Damn.” His voice trailed off, a rare smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Best decision you ever made?” I ventured.

“Without a doubt.” Gray’s eyes lit up, the way they always did when Eryn was involved. “Different worlds, but somehow it just works. She sees right through this gruff exterior.”

“Guess love doesn’t care much for expectations,” Walker added, tipping his hat back with that familiar ease.

“Or logic,” I mumbled under my breath, thinking of Chloe’sbright laughter and the way my heart seemed to tune itself to her rhythm.

“Exactly,” Gray agreed, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes. “Logic’s got no place in matters of the heart.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I sighed, feeling the last of my resistance beginning to crumble like dry earth beneath a steady rain.

“Point is,” Walker said, clapping me on the shoulder, “you’ll never know unless you go for it. Like Gray and I did.”

“Right.” A deep breath filled my lungs, steadying my resolve. Maybe it was time to stop circling the edge and just dive in.

“Go on then,” Gray urged, tilting his head toward the house where I’d parked my truck. “Before that bear gets any more action than you do.”

“Alright, alright,” I conceded, pushing off from the fence. My boots crunched on the gravel path as I started toward the promise of something new, uncertain yet thrilling.

“Good luck, loverboy!” Walker called after me, his teasing tone getting lost on the wind.

18

Chloe

The wooden spoonwas practically an extension of my hand as I stirred the simmering pot, a rich tomato sauce bubbling away. My other hand tucked a stray blonde lock behind my ear, only for it to fall forward again. Abby was absorbed in her coloring, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she worked on a horse that was going to be, by her declaration, rainbow-colored.

I heard the front door open and close, and my heart did a little pitter patter at the knowledge Mason was home.

“Smells good, Chlo,” he said, entering the kitchen. His voice was the deep rumble of distant thunder, comforting and familiar.

“Thanks.” I smiled, but didn’t let my eyes linger, though I could feel his presence like a warm patch of sunlight, drawing my attention away from the stove. His boots clomped softly on the wood floor, hesitant, as if he carried the weight of more than just the day’s dust on them.

“Whatcha making?” Abby piped up without looking up, her crayon making a wide arc of purple on the page.

“Spaghetti,” I replied, with a smile in my voice. It had become our Friday ritual—dinner at Mason’s, always spaghetti, yet no one ever seemed to tire of it.

“Hey, jellybean,” Mason murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of Abby’s head, his eyes still fixed on me for a moment too long. There was a question in them, something flickering beneath the surface that sent a tiny shiver down my spine.

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