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“Stock cars.” His eyes creased with a smile. “Of course barrels.”
“No.” She waved him off. “Everyone keeps asking me that.” She tapped her forehead with a fingertip. “I’ve got too much sense now.”
“I don’t know about that.” He grinned, not an ounce of insult on his face. Was heflirtingwith her?
“Right, cowboy. We know how skilled you are with a horse.” She was caught between exploring the moment and knowing she needed to walk away from it. Protect her heart. Play it safe. “Let’s see how you are with the family business.” She stood, followed him into the kitchen, and they washed their hands.
She grabbed a pair of gloves while Grayson pulled a large baking sheet off the rack. Several pastry boxes had already been folded and set on the worktable.
He handed her an apron and slipped one over his own head.
She put her apron on and tied it. “Eli really likes you.” She snagged a box. “I think Lexi’s going to want to keep him. She follows him around like a puppy.”
“That’s because I always give him a treat to give her.” The shy smile he gave her made her feel like a teenager again.
“That’s your secret. You’re a horse briber, not a horse whisperer.”
He held out his hands. “I made no claim.”
“Once you warmed up with the kids, though, you took over like John Wayne inThe Cowboys.”
“You have not seen that.”
“Vivien likes to torture me with classic movie nights.”
“Of course.”
“I do think Eli’s finding camp a refuge from Marie’s cancer.” She grabbed one of the boxes and set it on the table in front of them. “Did you see his face after he blocked Mason’s horse?”
“I didn’t know if I should’ve yelled at him or high-fived him. Not the safest thing to do.” Grayson plucked a rectangular cut of cinnamon rolls from the pan and placed them into the box Beth held open. “I do hope he finds healing.”
She looked over at him.I hope you find healing.
And the sadness of it all poured over her like winter storm waves against the breakwater, the spray of memories and regrets soaking through her.
Grayson was made for the open range and the squeak of leather in a place where snow-capped mountains punctuated the horizon with grandeur and mystery.
“I know the camp meant a lot to you,” Beth said. She picked up another box and held it open. “But why do you really want to open your own camp?”
He dropped a set of rolls inside the box. “I was one of the first horse-campers Trinity had.”
She kept working, waiting on him, not sure if he’d say more.
Then— “It was after my parents died.”
She knew about the boating accident, but mostly what she’d heard as she’d grown older. That, along with snippets of conversation between her dad and Dylan. She hadn’t been allowed to attend the service, but she remembered seeing Grayson several days afterward. Right before he was sent away, along with his siblings, to live with an aunt.
She’d thought she might never see him again. And she’d cried. Grieved his loss. Grieved her own loss.
Then he was back to finish school. They were all back, living with their grandparents in the house a few miles out of town. And over time, some of the lightness that had always been Grayson returned. Some.
Not all. He had distanced himself more often. Then that kiss at the pit party.
He stared at the pan of rolls. “I’ve never been back out on the lake.” His words were quiet and woven with regret. “I couldn’t.”
“I don’t blame you.”
He released a long breath. “But horses? The camp? That became my other home. Walter was the wrangler there, and I was his shadow. I couldn’t get enough of the horses.”
