Her hair is damp from the shower, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and her face is scrubbed clean, revealing even more freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. My aunt's faded blue t-shirt should look frumpy and practical—instead, it somehow highlights curves I'm doing my best not to notice.

This is a complication I hadn't anticipated.

I clear my throat and pretend to be very interested in my truck keys. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, thank you," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "These fit perfectly. Please thank your aunt for me."

"She doesn't live here," I say brusquely. "Just visits sometimes."

Charlotte nods, undeterred by my curtness. "Will Lily be joining us for the trip to town?"

"No, Cole's teaching her how to sit a horse today. She's been after him for weeks." The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. "My brother's a rodeo rider. According to Lily, that makes him the ultimate authority on all things equestrian, even though the rest of us have also been riding since before we could walk."

"She must be excited," Charlotte says, smiling. "She told me all about Butterscotch."

"Did she?" It's not really a question.

My daughter has apparently decided Charlotte is worth talking to, which is both a relief and a concern. Lily doesn't warm up to just anyone these days, not since Sarah left.

"She's very proud of it," Charlotte continues as I lead her toward the front door. "She showed me pictures on the frames in the hallway. She said you taught her how to brush him properly."

I pause with my hand on the doorknob, surprised. "She remembered that?"

Charlotte's expression softens. "She remembers everything you teach her, I think. She's clearly her father's daughter."

Something warm and uncomfortable unfurls in my chest. I'm not used to compliments about my parenting, especially not from someone who's only known Lily for a couple of hours.

"We should get going," I say, pushing the door open. "Town's a thirty-minute drive, and Pete will want to talk to you about your car."

Charlotte follows me out to my truck, a beat-up Ford that's seen better days but still runs like a dream thanks to my careful maintenance. I notice her hesitate slightly before accepting my hand up into the passenger seat, her fingers warm and soft against my calloused palm.

I circle around to the driver's side, mentally kicking myself. This is Lily's nanny, for crying out loud, not some woman I met at a bar in town. I need to get my head straight.

As I slide behind the wheel, I catch Charlotte looking around the cab of my truck with interest. "Something wrong?"

She shakes her head quickly. "Not at all. I just... I like that it smells like leather and hay, rather than air freshener. It feels authentic."

I shoot her a sideways glance as I start the engine. "As opposed to fake?"

Her cheeks color slightly. "I didn't mean—"

"I'm teasing," I say, surprising myself. I don't typically tease anyone besides Lily and occasionally my brothers. "Though I'm not sure what an inauthentic truck would smell like."

She laughs, "Pine-scented cardboard trees and insecurity?"

Now it's my turn to chuckle. "Fair enough."

We drive in silence for a few minutes, the ranch falling away behind us as we follow the long dirt road that eventually connects to the highway. I'm not much for small talk, but the quiet between us feels strangely charged, like we're both waiting for something.

"So," she finally says, "tell me about your brothers. You all run the ranch together?"

I nod, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Five of us altogether. Aaron, whom you’ve already met, was a Marine and did two tours before coming home for good. Doesn't talk much these days, but he's solid. Then there's me. Jackson's the oldest. He handles most of the business aspects. Cole's the rodeo star of the family, spends more time on the circuit than at home, but always makes time for Lily. Ethan's the baby, still figuring himself out."

"That must be nice," she says quietly. "Having family around."

Something in her tone makes me glance over. "You don't have siblings?"