Blake wakes up to the unmistakable sound of Rex's enthusiastic snuffling right in his face. The dog's big wet nose presses against his cheek with the subtlety of a bullhorn, sending a spray of dog breath and early-morning energy straight into his groggy consciousness.
"Alright, alright, I'm up!" Blake groans, scrubbing at his face and blinking through sleep-blurred eyes.
Rex stands proudly at the foot of the bed, tail wagging like a wind turbine in a prairie storm, eyes lit with pure mischief…the kind only dogs and toddlers seemed to have perfected.
As Blake swings his legs over the edge of the bed, Rex does a celebratory lap around the room, crashing into a half-packed laundry basket, nudging over a pair of boots, and knocking a nearly empty bottle of aftershave off the dresser with a loud clatter.
"You're really making a strong case for a doggy breakfast delivery service," Blake mutters, half amused, half exasperated, reaching for his jeans.
The room is dimly lit, just a pale amber glow spilling in through the curtains. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden light. On the dresser, a worn photograph stares back at him…Megan, Duke, his parents and himself, all sunburnt and wind-tossed after a county fair win years ago.
Back before things got complicated. Before heartaches and goodbyes.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, sighing.
Something about the morning felt still. Too still. The kind of stillness that comes before, a shift in the air.
But for now, there is coffee to brew. Chores to do.
And one overexcited dog practically vibrating with purpose.
By mid-morning, Emma's dusty little truck crunches into the gravel driveway.
She steps out with that same magnetic blend of confidence and chaos—her dark hair in a messy ponytail, cheeks flushed from the crisp air, and boots splashed with the first layer of prairie mud.
She holds up a coffee thermos like a trophy. "I come bearing goods," she says, grinning.
Blake leans against the fence, arms folded over his broad chest. His white T-shirt clinging to his frame, the hint of sweat and hay sticking to the fabric. "That depends. Is it the good stuff?"
Emma raises an eyebrow. "Imported. From Prairie Perk. Strong enough to restart a broken tractor."
He smirks, taking the thermos. "Well, in that case, you might just earn yourself a spot on the ranch roster."
Emma gives him a mock salute. "I'm ready. Put me to work."
They fall into rhythm with the day. Emma shadows him like a determined intern, fumbling her way through barn chores with more enthusiasm than grace. Together, they wrangle feed buckets, check fences, and attempt to coax a particularly stubborn calf back into its pen.
It was messy, chaotic, and full of laughter.
Emma steps in mud. Twice. Drops a wrench that nearly lands on her foot. And at one point, manages to spill grain all over herself when a goat startles her mid-scoop.
"I swear these animals are laughing at me," she says, brushing seeds off her jeans.
"They're just testing your commitment," Blake replies. "Standard hazing procedure."
But when a cranky old goat lowers its head with clear intent to charge, Blake's tone changes instantly.
"Watch out!" he barks, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind him just as the goat lunges.
They stumble together, Emma's hands landing on his chest, heart pounding.
She looks up, startled…then laughs breathlessly. "Guess I'm not used to...aggressive livestock."
Blake doesn't laugh right away. He is still holding her, still watching, the heat of adrenaline making him hyper-aware of the curve of her waist, the brush of her breath against his throat.
"You okay?" he asks, voice a little husky.
She nods, cheeks pink. "I'm good. Just got a whole lot more respect for goats."
"Wait 'til you meet the bulls," he says, forcing a grin to chase the tension away.
Both getting back up and continuing their chores.
Meanwhile, Rex is busy herding everything that moves…including Emma. Whenever she strays too far from Blake, he gives her a gentle nudge, circling back to push her closer like a furry little chaperone with a mission.
"Pretty sure your dog's trying to set us up," Emma declares as Rex once again inserts himself between them and stares up expectantly.
"He's got a thing for match-making," Blake admits. "Or he just really likes you."
Emma leans down, giving Rex a scratch behind the ears. "Well, he's got good taste."
By late afternoon, they were both dusty, sun-kissed, and laughing more than either of them had in days. They end up leaning against an old wooden fence, the view of the golden fields stretching endlessly before them.
Silence settles comfortably between them, the kind that doesn't need filling.
Blake breaks it first. "You know...I'm not used to this."
Emma turns to him. "This?"
"Letting someone in. Letting someone close again." He looks out across the land. "I spent a lot of time keeping people at a distance. Safer that way."
Her voice is soft. "But also lonelier."
He nods. "That too."
Emma wraps her arms around her waist. "I get it. My ex called me 'too intense.' Said I felt too much. Cared too fast."
Blake turns to her, brow furrowed. "That sounds like his problem."
She smiles faintly. "I've learned not to apologize for who I am. But it's scary. Letting someone see the parts of you you've had to protect over the years."
Their eyes meet then, and something passes between them…unspoken, but an understanding.
Blake shifts closer. Slowly. Carefully. As if afraid the moment might break if he moves too fast.
Emma's breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in, the space between them thinning…
And then, Rex barks.
Loudly.
He bounds between them like a line-backer, tongue lolling in triumph.
Blake recoils, nearly falling backward. "Rex! What the…"
Emma burst out laughing, covering her mouth as Blake tries to recover his hat from where it had landed.
"Looks like he's got opinions," she says, breathless.
Blake groans, ruffling the dog's ears with mock annoyance. "You've got the worst timing, you know that?"
Rex wags harder, utterly pleased with himself.
Later, as they gather tools and wrap up for the day, the sound of tires crunching up the gravel path draws their attention.
A sleek silver SUV pulls up, and Carrie steps out like she is walking onto a runway.
"Blakey?" her voice calls out annoyingly.
Blake's jaw tightens. His stomach dropping.
Emma, who is holding a basket of freshly gathered eggs, looks up just in time to see his whole demeanour shift.
"Carrie," Blake says stiffly.
Rex growls, low and ominous.
Carrie's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Thought I might pop in and see how you were doing, see if you missed me."
Blake steps forward slightly, a silent warning in his posture.
Rex trots up to Carrie's vehicle, sniffs it once…then lifts his leg and promptly pees on the wheel.
Emma chokes back on a laugh.
Carrie squeals and jumps back. "Ugh! Disgusting!"
Blake doesn't even try to hide his smirk. "Guess he's not a fan."
Carrie scowls. "Still living this...farmer fantasy?"
"Still happier here than I ever was with you."
Emma walks over, slipping her hand into Blake's with quiet confidence.
"Nice to meet you again," she says coolly.
Carrie ignores Emma, her eyes narrowing on their joined hands instead.
"I think it is best that you get going. I am rather busy as you can see." Blake orders.
Carrie opens her mouth, then seems to think better of it.
As the SUV peels away, Rex barks once in satisfaction.
Blake squeezes Emma's hand. "You alright?"
Emma tilts her head. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
He smiles. "I'm better now."
Later that night, Blake lay in bed, one arm behind his head, Rex curled up at his feet, snoring softly.
He stares at the ceiling, thinking of the almost-kiss, the look on Emma's face, the warmth of her hand in his.
The past had teeth. But maybe the future…messy, unpredictable, complicated…was worth fighting for.
He reaches down, ruffling Rex's ears.
"Alright, boy," he says softly. "Let's see where this goes."