Page 22 of A Mile of Ocean

They walked in companionable silence, the only sounds being the soft crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant squawk of a bird. Savannah glanced at Trent, noting the tightness around his eyes and the unspoken sadness that seemed to hang over him like a shadow.

“How are you holding up, really?” she asked gently.

He sighed, glancing up at the sky as if seeking answers in the clouds. “It’s been hard. Losing Granddad has been just as difficult as losing my parents. There’s so much to do, so much to take care of, and sometimes, I just feel like I’m drowning. I found out this afternoon that Duchess wants to change the burial site. It’s a big deal with the lawyer. And I hired a security detail to make us all feel safer until Brent finds this asshole. See? It’s overwhelming, a lot to take in. I’m pretty sure I might’ve willed you to pop in this afternoon and somehow save me before my head explodes.”

Savannah looped her arm through his, her heart aching for him. “Believe it or not, I know what you’re going through. Iscattered my brother’s ashes in Smuggler’s Bay not six months ago. But you don’t have to do it all alone, Trent. People care about you. I care. Lean on them or me whenever you need to.”

Trent looked at her, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I appreciate hearing that, Savannah. Really, I do.”

They continued walking, the conversation flowing more easily. They talked about the ranch and its challenges, and he shared memories of Barrett. Trent found himself laughing at some of the stories, the burden on his heart lifting just a little.

“I swear I thought you were ignoring me all spring,” Savannah insisted. “Your grandparents kept mentioning they had a grandson, but I never saw anyone but Tate.”

“Guilty,” Trent admitted sheepishly. “I had other things to do than worry about a bunch of kids out here just to cut class.”

“I knew it. I knew that’s what you thought,” Savannah pouted, pushing a finger into his chest. “It’s not true, you know. They’re genuinely interested in animals.”

“I know that now,” Trent stated. “But try to see it from my point of view. Seventh graders are notoriously famous for not knowing what they want at that age.”

“I took the 4-H group on because these kids don’t have a lot of options living in a small town. They’re trying to compete for scholarships with kids from wealthier districts. Getting them involved in anything at their age is a challenge. But they already had one thing in common—they wanted to get out of class and see the ranch.”

“Ah-ha. I knew it,” Trent whooped, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “But I swear from this point forward, I won’t make snap judgments again.”

“As long as you give them a fighting chance.”

She poked him in the ribs as they circled back to the rear of the main house, where a vibrant oasis of colors and scents hit her nose.

Rows of blooming companion flowers and neatly planted vegetables surrounded a central fountain that sparkled in the afternoon light. Savannah marveled at Trent’s dedication and hard work in maintaining such a functional garden.

“Oh, Trent, this is amazing,” she breathed, taking in the sight. “You’ve created something truly special here.”

Trent smiled, his pride evident. “I used the same layout I came up with in college. I kept seeing it in my head and thought this would make a great space for growing everything we needed year-round. Working in the garden helps me unwind and relax. Some guys hit the gym. Me? I love putting seeds in the ground and watching them grow. Sounds corny, I know.”

“It doesn’t, not at all. You’re such a surprise. Where have you been hiding? Why hasn’t some pretty blonde come along and snapped you up before now?”

“In my experience, pretty blondes dislike being around smelly horses. They don’t go together. But yeah, I’m a real catch, a regular Renaissance man because I plant flowers and spend my time at The Plant Habitat hanging around the seed rack.”

She sputtered with laughter. “I wouldn’t go that far. But you’re not exactly what I expected either.”

They wandered through the garden, the conversation turning to tomato plants, squash, watermelon, and a wide variety of summer vegetables.

Savannah found herself laughing more, the heaviness of their earlier exchange beginning to lift. Trent told stories about his grandfather, filled with warmth and humor, painting a picture of a man who had profoundly impacted his grandson.

“You showed me yours. I want you to see my garden next. Come for dinner Wednesday night after your presentation to the kids.”

“I’d like that.” He whirled her into a dance. “I’d also like this to be where we have our first kiss, surrounded by dahlias and daisies. Please tell me you’re not that kind of woman who snubs her nose at sunflowers.”

“I adore sunflowers. What kind of bimbo doesn’t like sunflowers? Are we talking about a real kiss this time around?”

“Yep. Better than the peck I gave you Friday night.”

“Good, because I wondered if that was the best you could do.”

Grinning, he lowered his head to her level and proved he could do better.

As their lips met, Savannah felt a rush of warmth that spread through her entire being. The kiss was tender yet with enough fire to promise more to come, a lot more. When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, eyes locked in a silent understanding.

“I think that confirms it,” Trent whispered, his voice tinged with amusement.

---