She gives a small, tired shrug. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll need to take more samples, though. From a few different animals. Will that be okay?”
“Of course,” I say immediately. “Whatever you need. Just tell us when.”
She looks down at her boots, scuffing one against the threshold. “I don’t want to overstep. I know you guys have Morales…”
“Hey,” I say, and it comes out too soft. “No. It’s not overstepping. We need all the help we can get.”
The silence stretches between us again, thick with everything we’re not saying. I feel the urge to fix it, to bridge this chasm that’s opened up between us.
“Look,” I start, clearing my throat, “I’m… I’m sorry about Billy’s temper. He’s… he’s going through a lot.” It’s a weak excuse, and I know it.
She just nods.
“Let us make you dinner,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Tonight. For old times’ sake.” I rush to add, “We can talk about the sample collection. Figure out a plan.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I see a flash of panic in them. “I don’t know, Seth…”
“It’ll just be us. And Tex. Billy’s… keeping his distance,” I say, hating the words as they come out. “Please. It’d be good to talk without a crisis hanging over our heads.”
She hesitates, her teeth worrying her lower lip, just like she did in the barn all those years ago.
“Can I… can I bring Clara?”
“Of course,” I say, maybe too quickly. “Yeah, of course. The more the merrier.”
She lets out a breath, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “Okay.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I hate how weird it is between us now.”
A small, sad smile touches her lips. “I’m sure it’s me, not you.”
I cup the back of my neck, the muscles there tight with stress. “No. I’m pretty sure I had a part to play in it.”
Our eyes lock, and I see it again, that same complicated, dangerous flicker I saw in the barn. She looks away, toward the darkening street, and I know she’s remembering, too.
I force my voice to sound businesslike again, a shield against the emotion. “How about seven? Does that work?”
She nods. “Seven works.” She gives me a genuine smile this time, and it does something to my insides. “Thanks. I miss a good home-cooked meal.”
I smile back, feeling a little of the weight lift. “You deserve it. I was at the feed store, heard all the ranches had you running all day. You’ve earned a nice meal and a break.”
She nods again, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Hey,” she says, her voice casual, but I can hear the undercurrent of tension. “Is Lila going to be there?”
And there it is. The one thing we have never, ever talked about. The name hangs in the air between us, sharp and loaded.
My throat goes dry. I tug at the collar of my shirt--it suddenly feels too tight. “Me and Lila are not a thing,” I say, the words coming out fast and firm. “We haven’t been for a long time.”
“I thought…” she starts, but trails off.
“We were just having fun,” I say, the explanation sounding flimsy even to me. “It wasn’t… serious. She works at The Dusty Boot now. I’m pretty sure she’s in love with the bartender there.”
I’m rambling, but I need her to believe me. I need her to know that that day, that moment, meant nothing to me in the way she thinks it did.
She just nods, absorbing the information. “Oh. Okay.”
I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead. I want to ask her. I want to ask her what she was thinking that day, why she bit her lip, why her scent…
I need to know. I take a breath, my heart pounding.
