Page 113 of One Wild Chance

He glances over. “What makes you say that?”

“You just look different. More settled with everything.”

“I spent most of my life in ice rinks with no windows or fresh air. I forgot what it felt like to be out in the wild.” He looks out across the pasture. “The ice rink can’t hold a candle to this view.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Didn’t think I would,” he says with a chuckle.

When we get to the oak tree at the far edge of the back pasture, there’s already a blanket spread at the base of it, with Miriam’s old picnic basket sitting on top.

“You came out here earlier?” I ask.

“Don’t be too impressed. I took the Kubota,” he admits.

“Well, I am. You’re spoiling me.”

“Good.” He holds out a hand to take Sally’s reins. I haven’t always been good at letting him do things without arguing, but I’m growing too.

We settle on the blanket, and he opens the basket: sub sandwiches, potato salad, coleslaw, and a jar of Ada Mae’s homemade applesauce. He hands me a plate before he takes one for himself.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Starving.”

He looks at me with the same worried expression as the night I fainted. “You did eat today, right?”

“I had the cinnamon roll you left for me.”

He shakes his head.

“And a granola bar for lunch!” I say. “I was busy with the yearlings.”

“Ada Mae cooks for us for a reason. So you have no excuse.” He gives me a look that tells me he’ll be leaving another cinnamon roll tomorrow. “You’re more important to me than any horse.”

We eat as the horses graze nearby and the oak tree throws its dappled shadow across the blanket. When he finishes, he reaches over to pick a few wild daisies, braiding them together into a flower crown and setting it on my head.

“There.” His eyes take in my face. “It suits you, Wildflower.”

I smile and look away, because when he looks at me like that, I can’t concentrate. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he answers, linking his hand with mine.

“When you picture this place a few years from now, what do you see?”

He leans back on his elbows, still holding my hand, and studies the pasture. “More horses. Bigger operation, and Wildflower Weddings booked out twelve months in advance.” He bites his lip in a half smile. “You harassing the farmhands about something. Me getting in your way.” His eyes find mine as he kisses the back of my hand. “Always on purpose, just because I can’t not be near you.”

My heart swoops in my chest. “So you’ll be a constant distraction?”

“Obnoxiously so.” He flashes a smirk my way. “I’ll find any excuse to touch you, then pull you down in the hay to kiss you.”

“Jaxon.” I blush. This man has a way of sparking heat through my veins.

“You asked,” he says, with a look that tells me he’s more than happy to oblige.

He reaches over and tucks a daisy that’s come loose back into the crown. His hand brushes against my hair before it falls away.

“I want you to be happy here,” I say, looking over at him.