She seems to be enjoying the attention. I’m not surprised. Dad always told me that most horses enjoy a good grooming if it’s done properly.

How I’ve missed this! Even the scents and strong smells of a stable. They’re familiar and comforting.

Mom and Dad no longer keep horses on our small ranch. They sold the few they had when I disappeared in the effort to fund a search for me, so I haven’t groomed a horse since…

I draw in a deep breath and inhale the sweet scent of straw and horsehair with only a tiny tinge of manure. These stables are kept clean. Really clean.

I haven’t groomed a horse since…

It’s okay to think the words, Dr. Lake says.

I haven’t groomed a horse since before I was taken.

In reality, I mean. I groomed many horses in my mind while I was on that island.

I truly think it’s what saved me. Thinking of the animals, all innocent and kind.

I reach Ivory’s mane and encounter a small knot. “Sorry, girl.” I disentangle the strands of hair. Once I’m done with the curry comb, I reach for the body brush to sweep away what little the comb loosened. The animal doesn’t actually need a grooming, but the ranch’s vet, Dr. Davis—she told me to call her Lexie, but it seems weird to call my boss by her first name—probably wanted to go easy on me on my first day. My past is well known in the area, unfortunately. I wish it weren’t, but what can I do?

I see the looks, know people act differently toward me.

After the thorough brushing, Ivory snorts. I clean around her eyes and muzzle. “You’re just gorgeous,” I say to her again. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d say the second-most beautiful.”

3

AUSTIN

The woman jerks and drops the soft rag she was using on the horse. And damn, what a horse! I know planes, not horses, but that’s got to be the most amazing animal I’ve ever laid eyes on.

And the woman? Even more incredible.

Fuck. Her long brown hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, and several strands have come loose. Her face has a sheen of perspiration, and she’s wearing old jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of roughed-up cowboy boots, but none of that detracts from her smoking hot body, angelic face, and blazing green eyes.

Fuck, those eyes.

If she’s what’s been hiding in Montana, maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to visit my long-lost family.

She lifts her eyebrows and steps away from me. She raises her hands in front of her as if to stop me. “Who are you?”

“Austin Bridger. I—” I pause and take in the extent of the stables. One of the horse’s stalls is probably half the size of my old apartment in Seattle…and it’s air conditioned. A chuckle erupts from my throat. “Hell, I guess I own the damned place.”