Grant raises an eyebrow. “They don’t have guests coming.”
Lily’s eyes widen in fake surprise. “Oh! Wow, right. Huh. Well, she’s just in one of her moods, I guess. You know Mama. Overachiever and all.” Lily continues without taking a breath “Mia, you don’t mind if I leave you here with Grant, do you? He gives ameantour—way better than me. Full of history. Ranchy trivia. Sexy facts.” She winks and clicks her tongue at the same time.
“Lily,” Grant warns, the low gravel in his voice doing little to hide the flush creeping up his neck.
But she’s already turning her horse. “Have fun you two! Try not to fall off the horse or each other!”
With a smirk and a wink, she kicks her heels and races off at breakneck speed toward the house, her hair bouncing and her laugh cackling in the wind, like she’s just won a matchmaking trophy.
I can’t help it—I laugh too shaking my head. “Your sister’s about as subtle as a marching band.”
Grant exhales a sigh, lifting his cowboy hat and dragging a hand through his already tousled hair. “Yeah, subtlety isn’t a Taylor family trait. She once tried to set me up with the UPS driver by pretending she’d lost her cat in my house.”
I snort. “Oh, did they find it?”
“Not even a little, given she doesn’t have a cat.”
We both chuckle, and he guides his horse closer, close enough that our legs nearly brush. The warmth between us hums, unspoken but pulsing like a hidden current under everything.
“We can head back if you want,” he says, voice quieter now. Careful.
“No,” I say quickly—too quickly. My cheeks flush. “I’m…actually enjoying this.”
His smile softens, warms, and something inside me tugs. “Then let’s keep going.”
We follow the river's curve, our horses walking side by side.
The water sparkles like spilled diamonds in the late afternoon sun, and I turn to look at Grant. I find myself watching the light shift on his face—jaw set, his brown eyes thoughtful, that barely-there scar on his cheek hinting at a story I haven’t heard yet.
Looking away I keep my eyes on the safer expanse of the broad landscape. “It’s beautiful out here,” I say softly.
“Yeah,” he agrees. But he’s not looking at the river.
The water reminds me of the bay near my childhood home, where my mother taught me to swim before I could walk.
“You really love the water, don't you?” Grant asks, eyes still watching me.
I nod. “It's where I feel most myself. Most free.” I hesitate, then add, “Even after it took my mom, I couldn't stay away. It's like... being in the water somehow keeps me connected to her.”
The admission slips out before I can stop it—something I've never told anyone, not even Brè. Grant's expression softens.
“I’m sorry.” He offers. “What happened to her?” he asks gently.
I swallow hard, looking out at the river rather than at him. “Boating accident when I was twelve. We were celebrating her birthday with a day trip on the bay.” The memory surfaces with painful clarity. “We were further out we’ve ever been, and a storm came up suddenly. The boat capsized. The propellor caught her. I was wearing a life jacket, but she...” I trail off, unable to finish.
Grant's hand covers mine on the reins, his touch anchoring me to the present. “I'm so sorry, Mia.”
The simple words hold more genuine understanding than all the elaborate condolences I've received over the years.
“Do you come here often?” I ask, changing the subject and nodding toward the river.
His hand withdraws, and I immediately miss its warmth. His expression darkens as he stares at the water.
“No,” he says finally. “I haven't been in that river for eight years.”
There's something in his tone that makes me hold my breath. “Why not?”
He's quiet for so long I think he won't answer. Then-
