Lane thought of the new yeast strain Mack had developed. He’d been sitting on that issue, not moving on it, which was maybe a mistake. But some instinct, some conviction deep in the center of his chest, kept coming up with a big fat “no” on selling the patent. It was like giving away the future of the company for pennies on the dollar—because if Mack was right? They had a gold mine on their hands.

Guess at his core, he was the opposite of Jeff, a bourbon maker, not a businessman.

“You know,” Lizzie hazarded, “there’s a potential solution to Jeff’s problem.”

“Really? Do tell.”

Out at the Red & Black, Edward leaned into the brush broom as he pushed the bristles down Barn B’s concrete aisle. As he went along, catching stray hay strands and clumps of dirt kicked free of shod hooves, he swayed to the music that he’d piped in overhead.

Frank Sinatra was croonin’ about flyin’ to the moon, and Edward was singing along.

From time to time, a muzzle came out and snuffled over his work shirt and his aching shoulders. He always stopped, sang a couple of bars, and then kept going.

And he knew he’d come up to Neb’s stall because his big, black, bad-tempered stallion kicked his door hard enough to rattle the whole barn. Then the thoroughbred seemed to smile slyly as he extended his neck, not for a bite, but to use Edward’s shirt as a tissue.

A hot blast blew out from those nostrils as the bastard deliberately sneezed all over Edward. After which Neb threw his head up and down, black mane flashing as he made like he was laughing.

“You are a pain in the ass.”

The stallion whinnied.

“Yes, they will be back any minute from their ride, and you could go with them on the trail, but you have no manners because you were raised in a barn.”

They squared off, glaring at each other, and then the stallion dropped his head. Which was Edward’s cue to rub under that chin.

As those big eyes rolled back in happiness, the sound of approaching hooves brought both of their attentions to the open bay at the end of the barn.

Edward felt a smile spread over his face, and he didn’t bother hiding it. Across the open field, at quite a clip, Sutton and Shelby came cantering toward home on a pair of mares with strides as long as football fields and the telltale head structure characteristic of Neb’s venerable line.

Both of the women reined up at the same time, their horses slowing to a trot and then a walk.

Putting the broom against Neb’s stall, Edward limped out toward the setting sun, his bad foot hindering his forward progress but not his mood.

“Looking good, ladies,” he said as he emerged out into the golden light. “Have a nice ride?”

“The best.” Sutton smiled over at Shelby. “I love that down trail into the valley.”

“It’s m’ favorite, too.” Shelby easily quelled her mount’s mincing feet. “But I think Miss Red here still has more gas in the tank. I’ma take ’er over to the north pasture?”

“Sounds lovely.” Sutton patted her horse’s graceful neck. “I’ll just walk Stacy out and put her up.”

“Yes, ma’am. Tomorrow?”

“Is after work still okay? I have a board meeting that gets out at six. I can be here by quarter of seven?”

“I’ll have ’em saddled and ready to go.”

While Shelby gave Miss Red her head and the two galloped off across the land, Sutton dismounted and started to walk Stacy in a fat circle. “I have the best time out there. And Shelby is the real deal.”

“Daughter of the best horse trainer I’ve ever met.”

“Is it true she’s dating Moe’s son, Joey? She was kind of talking about him.”

“It’s puppy love for sure.” Edward moved over to a bale of hay and slowly lowered himself down. “I think they’re a good match.”

“She seems really happy.”

“She deserves it. It’s been a hard road. It’s about time something went her way.”

As Sutton smiled at him, the rubies that glinted at her ears made him love her even more than he already did. Here she was in blue jeans and a three-dollar Hanes T-shirt, her face free of makeup, her hair loose all around her shoulders . . . and she still had his earrings in.

They had spent the last few nights at his little caretaker’s cottage, making love on the twin bed, waking up wrapped in each other. In the mornings, she’d left to go back to town at six a.m., so she had time to get dressed and have breakfast with her father. And then she returned to the farm around six, and he made them dinner, and they sat in his chair and watched bad TV.

Without a doubt, he could cheerfully see himself spending the rest of his life living these days over and over and over again, Bill Murray without Punxsutawney Phil.

“You look beautiful with that horse.”

Sutton smiled at him. “I think you’re biased.”

“Accurate is more like it—” As he heard some of the horses whinny, he twisted around and saw visitors. “Lane?”

Edward struggled back up to his feet as his brother and Lizzie King came down the aisle. “Hey, how you guys—actually, not the stallion, okay? You want to stay waaaaaay over to the other side with him. That’s right.”

Edward had to let the two of them come to him, but when they did, he hugged them both. “Sorry to make you do the walking, but I’m not moving too well.”

“You’re looking good, old man,” Lane said. “Hey, Sutton!”

Sutton waved as she continued to walk out Stacy. “Hi, guys! I’m so glad to see you! I’m just cooling down out here. Give me another five minutes.”

Lizzie said her hellos and then shook her head at Stacy. “Holy moly, that’s a beautiful horse.”

“Isn’t she lovely? And such a lady, too.”

“So,” Edward said as he sat back down on the hay bale. “What brings the pair of you out to farmland? If you’re looking for a nice cool glass of lemonade, I can take care of that at the cottage.”

As Lane settled against the side of the barn, it was impossible not to notice that it was now a man standing there, staring off into the meadow. Gone was the snarky playboy affect. In its place was a calmer, more grounded adult—and then there was Lizzie, the man’s true partner, the one who was responsible, more than anything else, for his transformation.

The love of a good woman was the savior of the aimless man.

Edward should know.

The silence continued for so long that Sutton finished cooling down Stacy and brought the mare in for grooming.

The clomping of those shod hooves stopped at the cross ties over in the cleaning bay, and Sutton deftly swapped out the bridle for a halter and secured the thoroughbred’s head. Next was the warm-water hose, which the mare nodded at because she was one of the ones who loved it.

And still Lane didn’t say anything.

As Lizzie went over to help with the horse, Edward looked at his brother. “Out with it. What’s going on.”

Lane reached down and picked a piece of hay out of the bale next to him. Putting it between his teeth, he chewed the base so the tip that stuck out in front of him danced.

When the guy finally looked over, his eyes were dead serious. “I need you to come back.”

Edward straightened his torso. And then in a slow voice, he said, “You’re not talking about Easterly, are you.”

“No, I’m not. I want you to come back and be CEO.” Lane put up a palm. “Before you shut me down, here’s the situation. I’m chair of the board, and I can do that job. Jeff is an incredible numbers guy, but we have some serious debt negotiating to do—and that is eating up all his time. I’m not CEO material. I don’t know how to run a company like the BBC. You do. You’ve spent your whole life getting ready to do it. Hell, you know every nook and cranny of the business, not just ours, but our competitors’. You’re the right person for the job, and what’s more, I think you need to do it for yourself.”

“Oh, I do, huh,” Edward murmured.

“It means you won. You got what he didn’t want you to have. What he tried to cheat you out of.”