Page 110 of True North

I rub a hand over my jaw to stifle my laugh. She’s adorable pissed off. And absolutely fuckin’ formidable as she is quick to aim.

Squeeze.

Crack.

The can flies off the post and into the air.

“Little fucker,” she breathes.

Doubling over, I cackle at the face she pulls at the can before setting the rifle down. I lose it.

My Louisa May has a dark streak, who woulda knew?

“Any more targets you need taken out?” She’s trying her best to tamp down the smile that’s stretching her face.

I hold up a hand. “Just a minute.”

I try for a breath, but the hysterics roll right back in. My hearty laugh has her giggle softly as I clamp a hand over my side, desperate to ward off the rising ache.

“Was it okay for a first time?” Lou’s brows have fallen again.

I know she thinks the laughter is at her, not with her, now. That sobers me up, quick smart. I let the chuckle roll away and stand tall. “Darlin’, remind me not to get on your bad side any time soon.”

Delight drowns out the concern on her face. “So, that was good? How long should it take to learn to aim?”

“Louisa May, you can be my shooter any time.”

“Finally, I have a talent,” she says with a soft, huffy laugh.

“Woman, you are full of those.”

“Oh yeah? Which one is your favorite?”

The space between us disappears. Good lord, we will never get a stitch of work done at this rate.

“How ’bout I show you when we get back at the end of the day?”

“Promise?” Green eyes study me suspiciously.

“Absolutely.”

She beams as she walks back to the rifle, packing it away and disarming it like I taught her to less than an hour ago before she swings it over her back.

Watch out mountain, Louisa May is coming.

My chest expands with her here. On the ranch. By my side. She fits, like the last piece of a long-standing puzzle I have been working on my entire life.

“You comin’, Harry?” Louisa calls from where she is, now halfway back to the barn.

“Yeah, darlin’, I am.”

* * *

Halfway across the field, I glance at the woman on the horse, Horse, beside me. This wasn’t her plan. It occurs to me, despite her unending work ethic, her place of work is not limited to this ranch.

“What days do you need to be at the restaurant?” I ask.

“Wednesday through Saturday. From lunchtime ’til late, if I’m to start taking over from Mama.”

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