Page 32 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

Willow bit her lip. The oven timer let out ading, offering her a chance to regroup her thoughts. She put on two mitts and opened the oven door, the sweet aroma of warm blueberries filling the room.

“Oh, gosh, you’re not saying anything,” Bella said. “Guess I overstepped. It’s just, I know we’re new around here, but Rafael’s trying, I know he is. We don’t want to cause any trou?—”

“You’re doing no such thing.” Willow set the cobbler onto the counter next to the notebook. Slowly, she took off the oven mitts. “They’ll work it out. Don’t worry.”

“Do you think Chance would rather we not be here? I’ve asked my husband, but all he does is shrug.”

Willow felt the heaviness of Bella’s question in her chest. She was beginning to learn that Chance had struggles that he clearly hadn’t wrestled into submission yet. He hadn’t said anything to her about Bella, but she’d noted the tension whenever Rafael was around.

Her mind scuttered back to that conversation she’d accidentally heard part of at breakfast one morning. Ace had just announced that Rafael would be taking Sparky’s spot as foreman. She had not been privy to the entire conversation, but she’d sensed that the father-son conversation was less than pleasant.

She didn’t want to mention anything that might betray Chance, but she’d let him know already, in her own way, that she hoped he’d give Rafael a chance to prove himself.

Finally, she said, “What I know is that it’s been a long time since that cabin has looked so loved. Sparky was, frankly, a dude who took his boots off there and that’s about it!” She laughed. “But you … you’ve refurbished the garden already and filled the place with the pitter-patter of sweet little paws. What in the world is not to love about all that?”

“Right?” Bella put her hands to her heart, her expression grateful. Just when Willow thought she was off the hook, she added, “So you’re saying he’s not hostile, just … prickly?”

Willow let out a half-laugh. “Um, I’d say cautious. Yes, that’s a good word that won’t get me into any trouble.”

“Ha!”

“Shush!” Willow leaned forward, her voice a whisper. Her eyes snapped toward the gooey dessert. “Wanna try it?”

“What sort of question is that?”

Willow clucked a laugh, grabbed some plates, and dished up two scoops of the luscious dessert, topping it off with homemade whipped cream.

“Mmm.” Bella savored a bite. “So decadent, but honestly, pretty healthy, if you ask me.”

“That’s what I was going for—decadent and healthy.”

“Getting back to Chance,” Bella said.

Willow gave her amust welook.

“Why don’t we give him a little project to help us with, you know, something to channel all that extra energy into.”

Willow caught the spark in her voice. “The olive trees?”

“We could go over to that barn and present a united front. Just an idea. We could bat our eyes and?—”

“Oh, no-no-no, I’m not batting anything.” Willow pushed away from the counter. “I’m just the help around here.”

“Sure, you are.”

“Stop it. Anyway, you want to interrupt two hard-working cowboys and pitch them a dream from a decades-old notebook?”

“Yes,” Bella said without hesitation. “And you’re going to help me.”

Willow scoffed. She looked out the window, where shoots of green rustled in the breeze as far as her eyes could see. Spending more time out there sounded awfully inviting.

She turned back toward Bella. “Fine.” She picked up the notebook and at the last second, grabbed a basket of scones she’d made earlier for the hands. “Let’s go plead our case.”

They stepped into the sunlit yard, the sky clearer now. Together, they made their way toward the paddocks, not far from where the olive trees stood in full view, not sure what they’d find—or how their idea would be received.

* * *

Chance cinched the strap on a saddle, tugged it once more for good measure, and stood. The gelding, calm with a coat of brown splashed with milky white flicked an ear but didn’t move.

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