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“On the other hand, Ghost does only one thing I ask.”

“She does it exceptionally well, however.”

She smiled at that. “She does. But at this point I’m wondering exactly how much that’s worth.”

He took a guess. “Wondering if she’ll pass on the…temperament?”

“You don’t have to be polite about it. She’s way beyond unruly. And yes, that’s what I’m thinking about.”

“Maybe she just soaked up the wildness of that storm she was born in.”

For a moment Britt just stared at him, then she smiled again. He could get used to her smiling at him. “That was almost poetic, Mr. Rafferty.”

He felt a little embarrassed but pleased. “Don’t let that get around,” he muttered, knowing full well the old Britt—or rather the Roth of their prior existence—probably would have stored that up as ammo to be used at the most inopportune time for him.

They spent a quiet day together. And he loved every minute of it, from the occasional conversations that surprised him with the turns they took, to the simple silences that were often broken when they both looked up from whatever they were doing or reading at the same time and smiled at each other. He’d never felt this at ease with someone before, not even Gwen. The undercurrent of what he hadn’t yet told her still tugged at him, but his vow to tell her tomorrow, once the recasting was done and she was back home, had eased that considerably.

He was actually pondering dinner, even though it was only a little after four, and surprised at how he found himself wanting to do it, not because he was hungry but because she might be. He was about to ask her what she wanted when his phone chimed a text notification. It was Chance’s tone, unexpected because he’d figured they’d be settling in with the new dog. Unless there was a problem…

He grabbed it up and opened the text.

It wasn’t you.

A second later a photo scrolled into view. It took him a moment to deduce what he was seeing. But then a familiar piece registered.

It was the wreckage of the drone. A small crumpled heap half buried in mud. For an instant all he could do was wonder how—and why—Chance had found it; it had to have been a methodical search. But then he realized the real import of the image. The fence line in the background. The fence line between the Raffertys and the Roths.

The fence line the drone was well on the Rafferty side of.

It wasn’t you.

It wasn’t his fault that Britt got hurt. The drone hadn’t buzzed her and then crashed, setting off Ghost. Even if the idiotic horse had spooked at the drone, it was far enough away to be clear it was the horse, not the device that was the key factor.

He let out a sound that was half laugh, half gasp of relief.

“Good news?”

He looked up at Britt’s question, wondering if he looked as goofily relieved as he felt.

“Damn good news. It wasn’t me.”

“What wasn’t?”

“The drone, I mean. I thought—”

He broke off suddenly as he realized that, in his relief, he’d just thrown open the door she hadn’t even known existed. And the way she was looking at him, so intently, he knew he had no choice. This wasn’t going to wait until Monday. But now that he knew the truth, it changed everything. The idea that her injuries were, even indirectly, his fault wouldn’t be hanging over them as he’d feared. They could go on, explore this crazy change in their lifelong connection, without that shadow. So with a much lighter heart, he explained. It came out a little jumbled, but his elation at the ending was all that really mattered.

“But Chance found the debris,” he finished. “And it wasn’t over on your side, it was well onto ours. So if Ghost spooked, it wasn’t my fault.” He said it again, just because it felt so good. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Britt was staring at him. “You thought one of your flying contraptions spooked Ghost and…caused all this?” she asked, gesturing with her free hand at her other wrist and in the general direction of her booted ankle.

He nodded. “But it wasn’t as close as I’d thought, not nearly as close. So if she heard it at all, it wouldn’t have been that loud.”

“But you thought it was.”

“I thought it could have been. Until now. Thanks to Chance.”

“Get out.”