She shook her head, but she was smiling now. And for just a moment, she forgot all about broken fences and stubborn pride.
Nick tilted his head toward the corner. “Come on. Let me buy you a cup of coffee. Just ten minutes.”
Charlie Grace hesitated, glancing toward the bed of her truck like the posthole digger might get up and do the work without her. “I’ve got a list a mile long, Nick. Fence repairs, and guests arriving this afternoon…”
“All still waiting when you’re done,” he said, sliding his sunglasses up onto his head. “There’s no reason not to say yes.”
The corners of her mouth tugged, despite her best effort to keep them neutral. “You always this pushy?”
“When I know what I want.”
He extended a hand—open, easy—and waited.
Charlie Grace eyed it for a beat. Then she exhaled and placed her palm in his.
His fingers wrapped around hers like a promise—warm, steady, and sure. The kind of touch that didn’t ask for anything, just offered presence. The wood-planked sidewalk creaked beneath their boots as they made their way toward the Rustic Pine, the storefronts lined with potted mums.
She tried not to notice how perfectly their strides matched, how natural it felt to walk hand in hand like they’d been doing it for years. But she did notice. The rough callus at the base of his thumb, the way his hand tightened ever so slightly when they passed Nicola Cavendish and her yap-happy Yorkie.
She should’ve felt guilty for taking the detour. Should’ve felt antsy, already planning how to make up for lost time. Instead, her heart felt a little lighter, like maybe the world could wait ten more minutes.
Maybe even longer.
The Rustic Pine was only half full, the quiet hum of locals nursing second cups of coffee and chatting over breakfast.
Charlie Grace followed Nick inside and immediately spotted Pete Cumberland behind the bar, refilling a saltshaker. Annie, bustling near the kitchen pass-through with her signature half-apron and easy smile, waved them over.
“Morning, you two,” Pete called out. “Didn’t expect to see you out and about this early, Charlie Grace. Heard you were neck-deep in postholes and barbed wire.”
“I was,” she said with a chuckle, then nodded toward Nick. “But someone had other ideas.”
Pete arched a brow at Nick, grinning. “Good man.”
“Hey, I caught your sermon on Sunday,” Nick added. “The bit about sowing in hard soil? That landed.”
Pete gave a modest shrug. “Well, I reckon if it stuck with you, then the good Lord must’ve had His hand in it. I just try to stay out of the way and say what needs saying.”
Annie stepped in, wiping her hands on a towel. “Sit wherever you’d like. I’ll bring two cups of the good stuff.” She winked at Charlie Grace. “We made that Guatemalan roast you like.”
They slid into a corner booth near the window, sunlight slanting across the table in soft golden beams. True to her word, Annie returned moments later with two steaming mugs, the aroma rich and nutty.
Charlie Grace cupped hers between her hands, savoring the warmth. “I forgot how good this feels—just sitting.”
Nick blew across the surface of his coffee, then leaned back and gave her that look. The one that saw too much. “Maybe you should do it more often.”
Before she could reply, her phone buzzed against the table. She glanced at the screen—a quick text from Jewel’s riding instructor, confirming a lesson reschedule.
She typed a reply, set the phone down, and barely exhaled before it buzzed again.
Another message. This time from one of her ranch hands asking about a delivery.
Charlie Grace reached for it, already rehearsing instructions in her head, but Nick gently caught her hand and instead slid the phone across the table, out of reach.
“Just a few minutes,” he said softly. “That’s all I’m asking. Be here. With me.”
She blinked at him, caught off guard by the kindness in the gesture more than the act itself. Her fingers, still half-stretched toward the phone, curled back into her palm.
“I’m not great at putting things down,” she admitted, her voice low.
