Page 25 of Wrangled Love

I hop out of the vehicle and stand nearby while Jensen helps Caleb out of his booster seat. I notice Caleb has left his stuffie in the Jeep. I’m not sure if it was on purpose or if he just forgot about it, so I don’t mention it. We can swing back and grab it if he asks for it later. But right now, I’m taking it as a small sign that he’s learning to be without it.

For the most part, Jensen left Caleb and me to our own devices this afternoon, though I did spot him peeking into the craft room between his calls, where we were painting rocks to put in the garden.

The real problem was me. I couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at him every few minutes. His hair was tousled from running his hand through it, and he had on jeans and a crisp white button-up shirt. What really did me in was when he put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. They gave him an irresistible edge, blending intelligence with a rugged appeal.

I never thought I’d be someone who’d swoon over a man inglasses. Then Jensen showed up looking like a sexy nerd wrapped in sin. The stacks of parenting books scattered around the cottage only make him more irresistible. I’ve caught him several times this week with his nose buried in a book and scribbling notes as he reads.

He might not have experience as a parent, but he’s determined to learn everything he can to be the best dad possible. It’s just one of the many reasons he has me mesmerized. He loves Caleb and fiercely protects him at all costs. Not to mention the way he rakes his hand through his hair when he’s deep in thought or his early runs at dawn, muscles flexing with every step. I can’t resist watching him from the kitchen window every morning as I make breakfast, but it’s hardly my fault it has a prime view of his workout route.

Even the way he massaged my feet earlier was addicting—his intense gaze locked on mine the whole time. It’s too bad he’s off-limits. The last thing he needs is any distractions from the reason he came to Bluebell.

I finally suggested to Caleb that we explore outside while our rocks dry, so I’d have some space to clear my head.

We’ve just returned from a walk by the pond when Caleb’s attention shifts at the sound of a high-pitched whinny drifting from the pastures.

“Must be feeding time for the horses,” I say.

His face lights up, and he stands on tiptoe to get a better view of the horses grazing in the field.

I’ll have to ask Jensen if he’s okay with Caleb riding soon. I doubt he’ll object, especially if he’s there to supervise and Caleb is as excited about the prospect as he seems.

I text Cooper to see if he can fit in a lesson for Caleb in the next few weeks. He owns a private security firm that employs vets as bodyguards for high-profile clients. In his free time, he trains the horses at Silver Saddle Ranch and occasionally offers ridinglessons. He and Heath have been friends for years. They met when Cooper moved to Bluebell after serving in the military. He was searching for peace and purpose, and the horses gave him both. He’s been the biggest supporter of my nonprofit and has already agreed to volunteer twice a week to teach kids how to ride once we’re up and running.

“Why don’t we go feed the chickens now?” I suggest.

My mouth falls open when Caleb slips his hand into mine. It’s a simple act, yet his trust in me feels significant. I gently squeeze his hand as we walk toward the chicken coops, glancing over my shoulder when I sense someone is watching.

Jensen stands at the dining room window, his eyes fixed on my hand clasped with Caleb’s.

I crouch beside Caleb and nod toward the house. “We should say hi to your dad. How about we give him a wave? I’m sure it’ll make his day.”

Caleb stands a little taller as he turns toward the house and flashes an enthusiastic thumbs-up, his grin stretching from ear to ear. Jensen’s shoulders relax, his eyes softening as he waves. My chest tightens at witnessing the sweet exchange. It’s a reminder that love can grow one small gesture at a time.

When Caleb looks toward the chicken coops at the sound of clucking, Jensen takes the opportunity to mouth, “thank you” in my direction.

I respond with a smile and a silent “you’re welcome.”

I mean it. Nothing is more rewarding than seeing the bond between father and son begin to blossom. I may not be able to hurry it along, but being part of the process feels like magic.

A Few Moments Earlier

Iwatch Briar and Caleb walk across the front yard from the dining room window. Briar’s talking, her hands moving fluidly through the air as she tells what must be an animated story. Caleb stays by her side, hanging on her every word.

A pang of longing hits me square in the chest when Briar lowers her hand, and Caleb puts his hand in hers. She smiles down at him, giving his hand a tight squeeze. They’ve only spent one afternoon alone together, and he’s already reaching for her.

It’s not Briar I’m frustrated with. It’s me. I’m disappointed in myself for not knowing how to bridge the gap between me and my own son. For choosing a career that takes me away from him during such a critical time. I’m even doubting if I’m cut out to be his father.

I hated my parents growing up, and while the circumstances couldn’t be more different, I still worry Caleb willeventually feel the same way—blaming me for not doing more to be a part of his life when he was younger and then taking him from his home.

Briar looks my way before crouching beside Caleb and saying something I can’t decipher. Seconds later, Caleb turns to face me with a megawatt grin, throwing me a thumbs-up. I wave back, my throat tightening as I rub my chest. My earlier doubts fall away as I take in the rare bit of affection he offers me.

It has everything to do with Briar and her gift for drawing him out of his shell. Asking her to be his nanny was the best decision I could’ve made. She’s as invested in his progress as I am, and with her help, I think we’ll be okay.

It has me thinking about how to make the most of the time Idohave with Caleb and be more attentive when we’re together. Letting myself stew won’t solve anything. That’s why I’ve made early morning runs around the cottage a priority. The calm of watching the sunrise and the open fields helps clear my mind, so I can be fully present for Caleb once he’s awake.

Though I never intended to come back to Bluebell, I can’t deny I missed ranch life—riding horses, spending Saturdays patching up fences, and practicing my cattle-roping skills. I want him to get a taste of that world, even if it’s only for a fleeting summer.

When his gaze shifts away from me, I mouth a “thank you” to Briar, who immediately replies with a quick, “You’re welcome.”

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