Page 65 of 11 Cowboys
I watch her fingers automatically stroke Beau’s silky ears, gentle and rhythmic.
“You listen better than most people do,” I say.
Grace glances up at me, serious now. “That’s the job, Nash. Observe. Blend. Stay detached.”
“You’re terrible at staying detached.”
Her smile flickers. “I know.”
The rabbit lingers in the long grass as the last rays of sunlight disappear, watching like it wants to join us but can’t find enough trust to venture forward. Brody’s the same: always watching, yearning, but never letting go of his demons enough to take what he wants. We sit there for a long time, neither of us in any hurry to break whatever this is.
The sky deepens into velvet blue, and stars prick through the darkness one by one. Crickets hum softly. The ranch feels farther away, like we’ve drifted into our own quietcorner of the world.
Grace lies back in the grass, arms folded behind her head, staring up at the sky. I follow her lead, settling beside her.
“Do you like it?” I ask softly. “Your busy life?”
She’s quiet for a while. “I thought I did. The deadlines, the control, the… noise. It made me feel like I was moving forward, like I was accomplishing something. I used to want to write novels, but I could never sit still for long enough…” She turns her head toward me. “But now I’m not sure I even know where I’m going.”
Her honesty stuns me a little. Most people hide that part. We stare up together, the stars spreading like scattered diamonds across the velvet night.
“My dad taught me to be still,” I say. “With animals. With people. With myself. You can’t force trust. You wait. You listen. You let life come to you.”
She hums faintly, almost thoughtfully. “I can’t even remember my father’s voice. I was so young when he left… I’ve spent my whole life chasing something I never really knew… and I don’t even know why.”
I shift closer, letting my presence answer the ache in her voice. “You don’t have to chase anything here… everything is ready and waiting for someone to take it.”
Her eyes meet mine, luminous in the starlight. “You’ll find her,” she says softly. “I know you will. I’ll do my best to help you… I’ll write the best-damned article and show the world what good men you all are… what sweet kids… this perfect place.”
I let my fingers do what they’ve wanted to do since she appeared by the paddock and touch her hair. Her lips part, and she exhales a soft breath. “What if we don’t want you to?”
She narrows her eyes. “You’ve changed your minds?”
“No. We still want what we set out for, but we think we’ve already found the perfect woman.”
Her eyes search mine for a moment, confused. Then shestiffens. “No,” she blurts, her head jerking back.
I take her hand, channeling the calm I usually reserve for the animals I love so much. “This place,” I say. “We can make it the home you’ve been looking for. You can slow down here. Leave all that running and searching behind. You can write your book. Find some calm in the world.”
“You don’t want me,” she says, turning away but leaving her hand in place. “Not really. You don’t know how I can be. How skittish. How impetuous. I don’t think before I act. I think I know what I want, but if I did, I would have found it by now.”
The confession hangs between us, fragile and raw, but she doesn’t crack a joke or change the subject. She looks at me with that soft, searching expression, like she’s trying to decide whether I believe her. Whether what she’s saying will make me think twice.
It doesn’t because I see her. Like Maggie, she’s scared to trust. Like Brody, she doesn’t want to risk her heart, but rather than withdrawing for safety, she does the opposite and still fails to get what she needs.
She shifts onto her side, propping her head on her hand, studying me. “You all deserve so much more than I can give.”
I saw my teeth along my lower lip, trying to formulate a compelling argument that could break through her misplaced resolve, but I’ve got nothing, so instead, I lean in slowly, brushing my lips against hers, soft and hesitant, testing the water. She responds hesitantly, too, like she’s wondering what this will mean, but decides to go ahead anyway.
If she believes we’re better off without her, how can she dance this dance with me? With my brothers. What is she trying to find in us? In herself?
The kiss deepens with an ease that feels like exhaling. No hunger, no fury, just… peace. It’s warm with the connection I’ve been searching for.
Her fingers slide into my hair as I cradle her jaw with mypalm. Her breath catches when I run my thumb along her cheekbone, but she presses closer, her body molding to mine in the soft grass.
When we finally break apart, foreheads resting together under the stars, she whispers, “I don’t know what I’m doing, Nash. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have to,” I reply. “Not with me.”
