Page 8 of Curvy Girl and the Protector Cowboy

She nods, and I can almost see her weighing options in her head. I pour more batter, this time making a regular round pancake.

"I could drive you," I offer, keeping my tone neutral. "Save you waiting around all day."

"Why are you being so kind to us?" She asks once more, her voice low enough that Miguel, happily drowning his pancake in syrup, doesn't notice the tension.

I consider deflecting but opt for honesty instead. "Because you needed help, and I was there. That’s what we do here. I told you"

"It's not that simple," she counters, setting her mug down with a soft click against the countertop. "People don't just help strangers without wanting something in return."

The bitterness in her voice tells me more about her past than she probably intends.

"My family does," I say simply, flipping another pancake. "It's how we were raised."

Before she can respond, the back door swings open, and Sarah steps in, her cheeks flushed from the morning air.

"Morning, Cole," she calls, then spots Luisa and Miguel. Her smile doesn't falter, but I notice how she softens her movements like she does around the skittish rescue horses. "Hi! In case you forgot my name, I'm Sarah."

"Luisa," comes the cautious reply. "This is Miguel."

Miguel waves with sticky fingers. "I got Mickey pancakes."

Sarah's smile widens, genuine warmth lighting her eyes.

"Those are the best kind." She moves toward the coffee pot, giving them plenty of space. "Cole makes the best pancakes on the ranch, you know. His secret ingredient is vanilla."

"It's not a secret if you tell everyone," I grumble, but there's no heat behind it.

Sarah winks at Miguel as she pours her coffee. "Do you like horses, Miguel?"

The boy's eyes grow impossibly wider. "Real horses? Like in my books?"

"Exactly like in your books," Sarah nods, leaning against the counter. "We have fourteen of them here. Some big, some small. I work with them every day."

"Wow," Miguel breathes, looking to his mother with pleading eyes. "Mama, can we see them? Please?"

Luisa stiffens, her knuckles whitening around her coffee mug. I can almost see her internal struggle—the desire to keep moving, to stay on guard, battling against her son's excitement.

"Maybe another time, baby," she says gently. "We have a bus to catch, remember?"

Miguel's face falls, but he nods with a resignation no four-year-old should possess. "Okay, Mama."

Sarah catches my eye briefly before turning back to Miguel. "You know, the horses usually get their breakfast right after we have ours. If you finished your pancakes, you could come watch me feed them before you need to leave. It only takes about fifteen minutes."

"Can I pet them?" Miguel asks, sitting up straighter.

"Buttercup loves being petted," Sarah confirms. "She's very gentle."

Miguel turns to his mother, hope restored. "Please, Mama? Just for a little bit? I'll be super good on the bus after, I promise."

Luisa looks cornered, glancing from Miguel to Sarah to me, then back to her son. I can see the exact moment her resistance crumbles.

"Just for a few minutes," she relents, her voice tight. "And you stay right with Sarah, understand?"

"Yes!" Miguel shoves the last bite of pancake into his mouth and climbs down from the stool. "I'm ready!"

Sarah sets her barely-touched coffee on the counter. "We won't go far—just to the near paddock. You can see us from the kitchen window the whole time."

The reassurance seems to ease some of Luisa's tension, but not all. She nods stiffly.

---