Page 30 of Lost Trust

Charli nods. “Sure are.”

His eyes go enormous. “Can I see them?”

“You absolutely can. Might even get you in a saddle, little cowboy.”

He looks at me like I just brought him to Disneyland.

I laugh. “Looks like you’ve made a friend.”

Charli stands and looks at me again. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal him some this weekend.”

“Um, I’m thinking you might be a little busy,” I say.

She waves me off. “Never too busy for a ride. Besides, my sister Matty likes to remind us all that the ranch never stops. Not even for a wedding.”

I glance down at Ryder. “In that case, I think he might let you steal him for a bit.”

“I will! I will!” Ryder chimes.

Now that I’m standing here, taking it all in, I realize the view from the farmhouse is even more stunning. The rolling pastures stretch in every direction, and the mountains—or maybe just the distant ridges—rise beneath the endless sea of blue.

“It really is breathtaking here,” I say.

Charli looks around, then back at me. “Thank you.”

Charli’s eyes flick toward Bryce. Then she looks back at me. “You haven’t even seen the best part.”

Marina

Haven’t seen the best part?

My mind can’t imagine what could possibly top this as I look over the land. But before I can ask any questions, the front door opens again.

A woman wearing an apron steps onto the porch first, silver hair pulled neatly in a bun, a bright smile spreading across her face. Behind her, an elderly man with a weathered face and a posture that suggests he’s spent most of his life working hard follows. A second man trails behind, taller and broad-shouldered, with the same easy warmth in his expression.

“Here they are,” Charli calls.

Bryce steps away from her and reaches into the truck bed.

“Marina, this is Grandma Evelyn and Grandpa Earl.”

Evelyn gracefully descends the steps to greet us. “Welcome.” She wraps me in a hug like we’ve known each other for years. “It’s so good to meet you.”

I laugh softly as I hug her back. “It’s wonderful to meet you too.”

Earl is next.

He gives me a firm handshake before patting Ryder’s back.

“Any friend of Bryce’s is family here.”

Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten.

Family.

We don’t really have that.

My dad left when I was young. He remarried a much younger woman, and they live in the Pacific Northwest. I’ve only seen him a handful of times in the last sixteen years. And my mom … well, let’s just say Ginger Kincade has never exactly been maternal. She was there, in her own way. Kind of. But mostly, I was raised by my grandparents while Ginger breezed in and out of my life between husbands.