Page 132 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

Her eyes slide to Annie and soften immediately. “Hi, Annie.”

She smiles thinly and greets Millie back.

Millie has a way about her that makes people unclench without quite realizing it. Maybe it’s the way she never pounces on silence, or her smell of sugar and yeast and absolute maternal authority.

Or maybe it’s just that she’s one of the few people in Colter Creek who can look at you and make it seem she’s not trying to sort you into a category before deciding whether you’re worth her time.

She points at the case. “Lemon bars, cinnamon rolls, blackberry hand pies, and one chocolate cake slice I’m willing to part with under emotional circumstances.”

“Strong menu,” I say.

Annie leans over the glass case, and I see real interest light her face. Small. “What’s the hand pie situation?”

Millie puts a hand to her chest. “Excellent, thank you for asking.”

That gets Annie smiling.

We leave with a paper bag full of pastries and two coffees Millie refused to let me pay for.

Annie laughs at that all the way out the door.

I’d buy Millie a car for less.

We end up parking near the creek trail behind the bakery, where the water runs dark and silver under the trees and the gravel path curves away from town just enough to feel private without being stupid.

I know better than to take Annie anywhere isolated right now. She might come with me because she trusts me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to abuse that by dragging her into the woods.

This isn’t a horror movie with better flirting.

So we walk where the bakery lights still catch the trail in soft pieces and the town isn’t too far behind us.

She keeps to herself for the first few minutes, blowing on her coffee, the paper bag bumping against my leg where I carry it.

Then she says, “You weren’t joking, were you?”

“About the piano?”

“About Vivian.”

I breathe out through my nose.

Well. There it is.

“Nope,” I say. “Not even a little.”

She glances at me. “You really grew up like that?”

I take a second before I answer, because some things are easier to laugh off than lay out plain, and if I start doing plain with Annie too often I might get attached in a way that ends badly for me.

Too late, probably.

Still.

“Vivian likes order,” I say. “That’s the pretty version. The real version is she likes control, and she thinks the two are the same thing. After our parents died, she stepped in like the ranch was a problem to be managed and we were extensions of it.”

Annie’s face tightens. “Jeez.”

“Yeah.” I kick a stone off the path. “Silas got the worst of it.”