Page 113 of Saltwater Cowboy

She studied me for a moment, like she was deciding whether to push for more or just let it be. Then she smiled—small, but real. “Well, I like it.”

Something in my chest eased.

Granger let out a low huff and curled up near my feet, the picture of contentment. The morning stretched between us, unhurried and comfortable in a way I hadn’t expected.

Rose exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she looked out over the land. “I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes. I just need to get changed.”

“We have time, no need to rush.”

She nodded, but lingered a second longer, her fingers still absently twirling the sunflower. I could tell she wasn’t quite ready to step away from the quiet of the morning, and truth be told, neither was I.

Her gaze drifted toward the horizon again, the early light catching in her blonde hair. “I didn’t expect to like it here as much as I do,” she admitted. “I thought it’d just be a stop along the way, a place to figure things out before moving on.”

Something in my chest tightened at that. “And now?”

She glanced at me, a small smile playing at her lips. “Now I’m not so sure.”

I wanted to ask what that meant—if she was thinking of staying, if she was still planning to leave. But instead, I just nodded, letting her words settle between us. Pushing for answers wouldn’t change whatever was already unfolding.

Rose let out a breath, as if shaking off whatever thoughts had crept in. “Alright, ten minutes,” she said, stepping past me toward the door.

I watched her go, her sunflower tucked loosely in her grip.

Granger huffed again, stretching out on the porch like he had all the time in the world. I gave his head a scratch before pushing off the railing, running a hand over my stubbled jaw.

I had a feeling today was going to be different. Maybe not in some big, obvious way, but in the little things—the ones that mattered.

And for once, I wasn’t in a hurry to figure out why.

The drive to the farmer’s market was quiet, but not in a way that felt awkward. It was the kind of silence that came with early mornings, where the world was just starting to wake up, and words didn’t feel necessary yet. Rose had her coffee cupped in both hands, staring out the window as the sun climbed higher over the tree line.

I glanced over at her when I could, catching the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the ceramic mug, deep in thought.

“You good?” I asked eventually, my voice breaking through the quiet.

She blinked, as if just remembering I was there, then turned to me with a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

I nodded, leaving it at that. Rose wasn’t the type to be pushed when she wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t the type to force a conversation just to fill the space.

By the time we pulled up to the farmer’s market, vendors were already setting up, the air rich with the scent of fresh bread, roasted coffee, and salt from the nearby water. People wandered through the rows of tents, some carrying baskets, others clutching warm pastries wrapped in paper.

I parked the truck in our usual spot, cutting the engine before stretching out my sore shoulder. “Looks like it’s gonna be a busy one,” I said, nodding toward the crowd already lining up.

Rose followed my gaze and let out a slow breath. “Yeah, it does.” She reached for the door handle but hesitated, looking back at me. “Thanks for driving. And, y’know… for the sunflower.” She lifted her mug, “And for the coffee.”

I smiled and nodded, not really trusting myself to say much more.

We got to work unloading. I carried the heavier crates while she focused on setting up her flower stand, her movements quick and practiced. I watched as she fluffed up bouquets, adjusting stems and tying ribbons with careful hands. There was something about the way she worked—focused, almost lost in the process—that made me pause longer than I should.

Longer than I had time for.

Once she was fully in setup mode, I pulled out the surprise I’d been waiting to give her. The banner was crisp, the fabric smooth under my fingers as I unfolded it. The logo—a delicate sunflower intertwined with the words Solace Blooms—stood bold against the white background. It was simple, clean, and exactly what she deserved.

Hooking it onto the front of her stand, I stepped back just as she turned around.

She froze, her eyes widening. “Wells…”

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Figured you needed something official.”