Austin leaned on the broom handle, breathing hard. “You realize you just talked me into manual labor on my day off.”
“Wait, you get days off?”
“Fair point.”
I smiled, wiping my hands. “Thank you for helping me.”
He studied me for a long second, then said softly, “I like seeing you like this. It suits you.” He started to lean forward, resting his hand on my cheek. His eyes darted between my mouth and my eyes, a silent question:Is it okay?My mind stuttered as if it couldn’t believe he was asking. “This is happening,” my heart smiled, the rush fluttering through me. Austin’s eyes dropped back down to my mouth as he leaned ever so close, his breath brushing my lips.
Krr-zzzt,the radio on his belt crackled, and Austin jerked upright—Levi’s voice, distant and clipped. “North pasture fence looks fine. No sign of company.”
Austin clicked it off and looked back at me, the moment lost and the spell broken. “Mason and Levi are making extra rounds. Just precaution.”
“Because of Harold?”
“Because of everything,” he said. “But we’re ahead of it now.”
I nodded, exhaustion settling in, but beneath it a pulse of pride. The barn was raw, half-finished, and full of wonder. Austin sighed, a sound of restraint and frustration. He shook his head, then rested his forehead against mine.
“Come on, let’s head in.” Austin smiled, then kissed my forehead and breathed deep.
I nodded as he took my hand in his.
As the last light faded, I stood at the doorway and looked out across the field. The world felt a little bigger, and I was achieving my dream. Austin came to stand beside me, shoulder brushing mine.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “We start building it for real.”
“Tomorrow,” he agreed. “And Milly—whatever Penny was fighting for, she’d be proud you’re still in the ring.”
“Some things are worth fighting for,” I said.
Austin didn’t argue. He just nodded once, a soldier standing his ground.
Chapter 20
Smoke and Mirrors
Austin
Frost, along with the end of Fall, bit the air. Montana was funny that way. It worked on its own time. Today, the frost showed up overnight, leaving a trail of glittering ice along the fence rails, the grass, and the tips of the trees, painting the pastures in a brittle light. With winter on the way, it was a reminder that I had a lot to do before the first snow hit.
Milly had made a project out of cataloging Penny’s ledgers over the last few days—stacking, labeling. She’d mutter little victories every time she found something worth keeping: small trinkets, little love notes from someone overseas named Landon, and several photos of Penny and her mother, Evelyn.
That was until the doorbell rang, and the UPS driver brought the table heating elements. She’d bounced out of here, excited to plug them in and see if they kept the exam tables heated. Penny had already wired for heated stall floors, heating, air conditioning, a freezer, and a fridge—pretty much anything to open the clinic. All we had to do was plug them in. That’s what gave Milly the idea to heat the metal exam tables.
Milly had already been in the barn for part of the morning, cleaning out the old closet and priming the walls for a new coat of paint. She’d chosen a soft white, almost a hint of grey.The radio hummed, she sang off-key, and Inspector lay in front of the heater she dragged out until the electrician hooked up the power, which should be on Thursday—fingers crossed. She would be off generator power, another step toward opening the clinic.
Twenty minutes later, I heard a whooping from the barn before she ran out and launched herself into my arms.
“They work. They work. They work.” She bounced up and down, making it hard to keep a hold on her.
“Good. No cold furry feet or cold furry butts in the winter. You know you’re going to spoil the animals.”
“Shucks, Austin. Ya caught me.” She snapped her fingers, smiled back, then shivered.
“Come on, let’s get you inside. You didn’t even grab your jacket.”
As the two of us made our way back, a small glint from the east fence line shimmered. It’s just the sun off the snow, I told myself. Still, something felt off. I couldn’t place it, but my old military instincts had moved to DEFCON 4. Not in danger yet, but awareness—or “double-take”—level. So far, it was just a faint static that told me to stay alert. It looked like the animals felt it too: Sherlock pawed at his newly secured and goat-proof fence line, Inspector, and even the horses kept their heads high, watching the tree line.
