Page 19 of Falling for Love

Admired her. She was strong and funny and completely herself, which made it impossible not to be drawn to her.

“Well,” Fifi said, slinging her tote back over her shoulder, “I’m proud of you, big bro. Just don’t mess it up, okay? You’ve got a good thing going.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said dryly.

“Anytime.” She started toward the door, then paused, throwing me a sly look. “Oh, and if you do end up proposing over pancakes, I demand to be there.”

“Out,” I said, pointing toward the door as she laughed.

“Love you too!” she called, shutting the door behind her.

I stood there for a moment, shaking my head. Fifi could drive me nuts, but she wasn’t wrong.

This breakfast with Evie? It felt like the start of something real. And I wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Chapter Four

Evie

The Wisconsin cold had a way of seeping into your bones, no matter how many layers you wore.

I huffed out a breath, watching the condensation cloud float away, and adjusted my gloves before picking up the gelding’s hoof. He wasn’t the most cooperative horse I’d worked with, but he wasn’t the worst.

“Come on, Shadow,” I murmured, running my hand down his leg. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

Shadow twitched his tail, his ears flicking toward me as if debating whether to listen. Finally, he shifted his weight, letting me lift his hoof.

Victory.

I grabbed my hoof knife and cleaned the dirt and bits of frozen mud packed into his sole.

My fingers were already numb, and the knife felt like a brick in my hand. But the rhythm of the work, the quiet focus it demanded, always settled me.

Even in subzero temperatures.

“Not so bad, huh?” I asked Shadow as I checked the angles. “I promise this is for your own good.”

He shifted again, his tail swiping at my shoulder like a sassy teenager.

I chuckled under my breath and reached for my rasp.

“Fine. Be dramatic. We’ve got time.”

Just as I began smoothing the edges of his hoof, the barn door creaked open, and Mrs. Anderson stepped in. She was bundled in so many scarves and hats that she looked like a walking snowman.

“Evie, dear!” she called, her voice muffled by the layers. “How’s it going?”

“Cold,” I replied with a grin, standing up briefly to stretch my back. “But we’re making progress.”

She waddled closer, holding a thermos in one mittened hand. “Coffee?”

“Always,” I said, grateful as she poured a steaming cup and handed it to me.

As I sipped the coffee, she leaned against the wall, her eyes twinkling. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Uh-oh,” I said, smirking over the rim of the cup. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” she said, her grin widening. “I was just thinking—you’d be perfect for my grandson, Caleb. He’s a niceboy, a hard worker, and just moved back to town. Single, of course.”

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