Page 98 of Earning Her Trust

Jonah crouched beside a pig pen, a feed scoop in one hand. He was dressed in his usual worn jeans and faded Carhartt jacket, his beautiful rust-brown hair ruffled as if he'd been running his fingers through it. What caught Naomi's attention wasn't his appearance, but the earnest sincerity with which he addressed an enormous pink sow who watched him with intelligent eyes.

"You are loved, Petunia," he told her solemnly, scratching the broad expanse of her back with the edge of the scoop. "You are powerful. You are a radiant queen in a world that cannot contain your glory." He leaned in closer, as if sharing a vital secret. "You are not bacon."

The pig grunted, clearly pleased with this assessment, and gave a little shimmy that sent her ears flapping. Jonah nodded, as if she'd just made an excellent point in their conversation.

The scene captured everything she was starting to understand about Valor Ridge—beneath the rough exterior and the broken men, there was a current of compassion that ran deeper than any of them would admit.

So, yes, of course this Golden Retriever of a man was having a heart-to-heart with a pig at seven in the morning. It made perfect sense.

Naomi couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her, and Jonah glanced over his shoulder. If he was embarrassed to be caught delivering affirmations to livestock, it didn't show on his face.

"Morning," he said, straightening up with an easy grace that spoke of a lifetime spent around animals. "You're up and about early."

"Actually, I slept in," Naomi admitted, stepping fully into the barn. She tugged at the cuffs of Owen's flannel, suddenly self-conscious about wearing his clothes so openly. "I was looking for Ghost—for Owen."

Jonah's eyes flickered briefly to the oversized shirt, but his expression remained neutral. "Haven't seen him since sunrise chores. He took Coyote and Cinder out toward the east ridge."

"Oh." She tried to hide her disappointment. The east ridge was the farthest point of the property, at least an hour's hike. She wasn't sure her still-healing body was up for that trek.

Jonah seemed to read her thoughts. "He'll be back for lunch. Boone doesn't tolerate tardiness at the mess hall." He set the feed scoop on a nearby shelf. "I could show you around while you wait, if you'd like. You've been here a week, but knowing Ghost, I bet you haven't seen much beyond the Hub."

Naomi hesitated. Her instinct was to decline, but Jonah's open expression made her reconsider. There was no agenda in his offer, just simple kindness.

"That would be nice," she said finally. "If you're not too busy with your... affirmation session."

He grinned. "Petunia's done for today. She gets cranky if we go over time."

The pig grunted agreement, turning in a circle before flopping down in a pile of fresh straw.

"Do you always talk to the animals like that?" Naomi asked as Jonah led her deeper into the barn.

He shrugged. "I believe positive reinforcement works on everyone. Even pigs." He glanced at her. "Especially pigs. Petunia's the smartest animal on this ranch, but don't tell the horses I said that."

Naomi found herself smiling again. "Your secret's safe with me."

Jonah showed her the feed bins, each meticulously labeled with contents and feeding schedules. In the tack room, saddles and bridles hung in neat rows, the leather gleaming with regular care.

"Walker believes in order," Jonah explained, gesturing to the immaculate organization. "Says chaos on the outside leads to chaos on the inside. Most of the guys here have enough of that already."

It made sense. Structure and routine as antidotes to trauma—she'd seen it work before, in rehab centers and recovery programs on the reservation.

They moved on to an outdoor pen where two goats peered at them with rectangular pupils, their beards giving them the look of tiny, judgmental old men.

"Meet Rip and Ruckus," Jonah introduced. "They're escape artists. We've had to reinforce the fence three times this month."

As if on cue, one of the goats reared up on his hind legs and placed his front hooves on the fence, testing its strength.

"Don't even think about it," Jonah told him firmly.

The goat bleated innocently, as if he'd merely been stretching, and paced his hooves back on the ground.

Naomi laughed, the sound surprising her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much. "They seem like troublemakers."

"Like calls to like," Jonah said cryptically. "That's why River's in charge of them. They understand each other."

The next stop was a large paddock where a massive Highland cow stood knee-deep in what appeared to be a kiddie pool filled with water. Her long, shaggy coat was a rich russet, and her impressive horns curved elegantly from her broad face.

"That's Maisie," Jonah said with obvious affection. "She's the ranch matriarch. Been here longer than most of us."