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“Heading out for a run behind the barn. Thought you should know.” At the last second, she added, “Because of the bear and all. I’ll be by to drop that wrench off later if that’s okay.”

Because I have dinner at your house. Not that she’d actually tell him that. She was still hoping he’d happen to be out. Her phone alerted her to a new message.

“Thanks for the heads-up. Have a great run and watch out for grasshoppers;)”

Maggie laughed. Of course, he wouldn’t have let that go after all this time. It wasn’t her fault the grasshopper had latched onto her shirt and not let go. She’d screamed and ran with her arms flailing one time and he was still teasing her. Not that she minded. It meant there was a chance at friendship after she’d fixed up her ranch and put her grief to rest.

She changed into her running tights and a tank top grateful she’d had the forethought to pack them. She’d always cherished time in the hills at the base of the canyon, especially when school would get out for the summer and the early evenings were all hers. She’d race through the northernmost wheat field, then meander up the deer migration trail that led along the eastern ridge of the canyon. Breathless, Maggie wouldn’t stop until she got to the outcropping that overlooked her father and the Schultzes’ fields. Every summer night began that way, leading into Deer Creek’s cross-country season in the fall, where Maggie would dominate east Texas because of her training at the ranch.

That was, until the summer she’d turned sixteen and a certain cowboy had captured her interest more than jogging through the trails. Occasionally, he used to join her, though, and it was actually just after one of those runs—not the one with the freeloading grasshopper—they’d shared their first kiss at the creek. Thinking about that moment sent Maggie’s pulse racing as if she’d just completed a 5k with a personal record.

It was why she’d packed running clothes, so she could work out some of her sadness, grief, and frustration on the trails behind the house. Looked like she’d be adding confusion to the list of emotions she needed to work through, and all because of Bennett Tucker Marshall.

She shook off the memories. Looking back wasn’t the answer. No, her future—whatever it looked like—was in front of her. Tightening her laces, she stood, stretched, and took off through the fields that, though still overgrown, were starting to come back to life under the care of her and the team she’d hired.

At the base of the hill, she was already winded. She glanced up the cliffside and laughed. Did she really charge up this thing like it was a molehill when she was a teenager? Because it looked more like Everest now.

“Don’t tell me you’re already done. I was hoping I could see if I could still beat you up this thing.”

Maggie startled at the voice that came from behind the tallest waves of grain to her left, but her heart recognized it at once.

“Bennett?”

The grain parted, and sure enough, her bearded neighbor was there, in a pair of cutoff sweats and a fitted white T-shirt that showed off, well, everything about the man. She gulped nothing but dry air, wishing she’d thought to bring a water bottle.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. He shrugged and handed over a reusable water bottle as if he’d read her mind. “Thanks,” she said.

“No problem. I thought you could use the company. Between the bears and kamakaze grasshoppers, you never know what could happen out here.”

He winked and she shot him a scowl.

“And if I wanted some peace and quiet?”

Bennett mimed zipping his lips, and she couldn’t hold back the laugh she felt.

“Okay, fine. But no making me look bad. I haven’t run hills like this since I was eighteen.” She took a long swig of the water and then handed him back the bottle.

“Is now a good time to mention that I’ve been running this path three days a week the past fifteen years or so?”

Maggie’s jaw fell open.

“You have?”

Bennett nodded, his wheat-colored hair bouncing without the weight of his worn leather Stetson. In fact, between the sweats and T-shirt, if she didn’t know him already, she wouldn’t have thought him a cowboy at all.

“I dunno. I guess I just liked the way the runs with you made me feel and the perspective they gave me.”

Maggie didn’t have a response to that. She’d had a certain image of him when she’d come back to Deer Creek and, at every turn, he’d managed to surprise her in only good ways.

“Well, then, after you.”

“Cool. I have a place I actually want to show you. Holler if the pace is too quick, okay?”

Not a chance. She’d keep up or die trying.

“Will do.”

With that, Bennett took the hill, easy at first so Maggie’s breath was even if not a little labored. But it was nothing compared to the way her heart felt outside of the exertion. It pumped joy through her body with every step she took because she finally realized something vital, something imperative to her future.