She was here, somewhere.
Quint gestured to the north with the wrench. “Isn’t that your girl?”
“She’s a woman, not a girl.” Chance rose to his feet, looking for her. “And she’s not mine.”
“She’s living with you.”
“As a roommate.”
Chance squinted at a figure in the distance. There she was, walking the fence line of the north pasture, her dog at her side. Chance’s ribs unlatched a notch, and he could breathe easier. She was just fine.
“You’ve never had a roommate before.” Quint wasn’t letting it go. “You don’t even bring women home.”
“How do you know that? Are you watching through my windows?”
“Am I wrong?”
Chance sighed. “No, you’re not wrong. But she’s different. I’m not sleeping with her, she’s not mine, and I’m just helping her out.”
“Why aren’t the Saxons helping her out?”
“Ask them,” Chance muttered darkly.
“It’s their first grandbaby. Most folks would be over the moon about that.”
“They ought to be.” Chance watched as Cordy strode over his ranch with her long legs. With that noodle dog straining at the end of the leash, she looked like something out of a magazine. Long and lithe and sexy as hell.
“Is she going for a walk?”
“Yeah.” Chance should have known she’d be out of the house and exploring the first chance she got. Given how she’d grown up, she wasn’t one to stick in one place, even for a day.
Which meant she probably wasn’t staying in Star Crossed Springs, no matter what she said about the baby growing up near the Saxons. With how they treated her, soon enough she’d come to her senses and move somewhere else.
“Remember how Mom used to take walks?” Quint asked.
Chance felt a weight settle on his chest. They didn’t talk about Mom much. Right after she’d died, they’d been too busy trying to keep everything together as Dad fell apart. After, itbecame a habit. They knew bringing her up would hurt, so they didn’t.
“I remember,” he said. “After dinner, she’d take Dad’s arm and say, ‘I want to see our land.’ And they’d walk over the acres until dark.”
That had always reassured Chance when he was little. There were predators out there who wanted to hurt their animals, but Mom and Dad would make sure they weren’t around. They’d make sure that the fences were secure and nothing could get to their herd. And then they’d come home and tuck their boys into bed, and everything would be safe and right with the world.
That feeling didn’t seem so big the older he got, but it never really went away—until Mom passed, and nothing felt secure anymore.
“We never did that,” Quint said. His voice was rough. “Walked over this place just to walk. We’ve always got something to do. Always something needing fixing or attending to.”
Chance sighed. Quint was right. Watching Cordy out there gave him the itch to join her. To see what she thought of what he and his brothers had made here.
“Cordy likes exploring,” Chance said. “Her parents dragged her all over the world when she was a kid.”
She walked across their land like she owned it, her strides long and confident. The dog strained at the end of the leash, but she controlled him easily.
Chance could watch her all day. Just her, walking. He wondered again where that grace of hers came from. Natural or taught?
Quint tapped Chance’s shoulder with the wrench, tearing him out of his obsession with Cordy. “Did you want this?” Quint asked.
“Yeah.”
Quint squatted next to him. “Ruby likes her. Cordy.”
