Page 55 of Ethan

“I thought he had a meeting this morning,” Serena said.

“He did. Then he went to the diner to have breakfast with his brothers.”

Serena glanced at her. “And how do you know that?”

“I was there when the client showed up to look at the horse. Once they made a deal Ethan mentioned he was heading to the diner.” Naomi shrugged.

Serena was quiet for a beat. “You two aren’t fooling anyone, you know.”

Naomi looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. He can’t keep his eyes off you, and you can’t stop looking at him. Everyone on that ranch can see it.” Serena kept her eyes on the road. “Everyone.”

Naomi said nothing.

She wasn’t sure what Ethan would think about that. She wasn’t sure what she thought about it either.

Serena parked on Main Street, and they climbed out into the warm morning sun.

“So,” Serena said as they started down the sidewalk. “Has anything actually happened or are you two still dancing around each other?”

Naomi looked at the shop windows as they walked. “He took me to dinner at The Hartland.”

Serena stopped walking.

Naomi kept going two steps before she realized and turned around.

Serena was staring at her. “The Hartland?”

“Yes.”

“He took you to The Hartland.” Serena fell back into step beside her, quieter now, like she was turning something over. “He hasn’t taken anyone there in a long time. Not since Claire.”

Naomi looked at her. “You knew her?”

“I knew of her. Before my time, but people talk in a small town.” Serena glanced at her. “He doesn’t do anything without meaning it, Naomi. Taking you there means something.”

“I’m not going to read anything into it. Not yet.”

“Okay, I’ll let it go for now.”

“I want to go in here.” Naomi looked at the antiques displayed in the window.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Naomi pushed it open and stepped inside.

She stopped and looked around.

The place was wonderful. Packed floor to ceiling with everything imaginable, old furniture, vintage signs, glass cases full of jewelry and pocket watches, shelves of mismatched China and oil lamps and wooden boxes worn smooth with age. The smell of old wood and something faintly floral hung in the air.

“I love it in here,” Serena said behind her.

“I can see why.” Naomi moved toward the nearest shelf and picked up a small ceramic horse, turning it over in her hands.

“You must be new.” A woman appeared from behind the counter, late thirties, pretty, with warm eyes and an easy smile. “I’m Savannah Collins, everyone calls me Vanna. I own the shop.”

“Naomi Austin. I just moved to Ethan Harrison’s ranch. I’m a barrel racer trainer.” She set the horse down and shook Vanna’s hand. “I’ve been wanting to come in since my first day in town.”

“Well, take all the time you need.” Vanna turned to Serena. “Hey, you.”