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I ’m up by sunrise to change the air-conditioning filters in two cabins ahead of new guests arriving today.

The last thing I want is for them to walk into a stuffy cabin and complain.

I also finished setting up Ziggy’s space in the old shed in the backyard, with fresh hay and a water trough.

He’s adjusting well, and after watching him and Caleb play together so well the past few days, I think having him around will be good for them both.

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when I get back to the cottage.

Jensen brought Caleb home after summer camp, wanting to ease him into the new routine with me as his nanny.

When I get inside, I find Jensen pacing in the entryway, his hands clasped behind his back.

There’s a deep crease between his brows, and tension is etched in the rigid line of his jaw.

He whips his head in my direction when I close the door.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Peachy,” he replies curtly.

I raise a brow, resting my hand on my hip. “Really? Because you’re giving off more of a squeezed-lemon-left-out-in-the-heat vibe.”

“Real cute. Should I expect a full medical report, or are you still working on a diagnosis?” he asks, trying to hide a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension in his jaw.

Julie called me earlier to warn me he might be on edge.

He’s spent the past three mornings hovering in her office during camp, convinced Caleb might need him.

She told him he has to drop Caleb off tomorrow like every other parent.

No exceptions. I’m guessing he’s panicking about it, which is why I’m already thinking of ways to make the transition to me watching Caleb easier, so it’s one less thing he has to stress about.

It’s like taming a wild colt—you don’t win by brute force but by showing patience and persistence.

“Where’s Caleb?” I ask.

“In his room, coloring a picture of a Triceratops they gave out at summer camp.”

Someone brought a kid-sized activity table to Charlie’s shop, and she set it aside for Caleb. I picked it up yesterday, stocked it with a bin of craft supplies, and now he has his own mini art station.

Jensen lingers by the front door, watching as I settle onto the bench and tug off my boots. I press into a spot on my right foot, wincing when I hit a tender spot that’s been aching since this morning.

“You’re in pain,” Jensen observes.

I wave it off. “It’s nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I spent my fair share of time wearing boots back in the day. I’ve never forgotten that working in them is its own kind of punishment.”

I’m stunned when he lowers himself in front of me and takes my foot in his large hands. He removes my sock and gently cradles it .

“What are you—” My question is cut off by a low moan slipping out as his thumbs work into the sore spot, kneading the area, easing the tension bit by bit.

“Aren’t you the one who tells everyone they don’t have to do everything on their own?” he replies with a pointed look. “You’ve got a long afternoon with Caleb, so why not let me help lessen your pain before you have to get back on your feet?”

I fully intend to tell him it’s not necessary, but the soothing pressure I’m experiencing has other plans.

The pain begins to melt away under his touch, replaced by a calming relief that spreads like liquid warmth.

My head falls back against the wall, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning as he lifts my other foot, taking off my other sock and giving it the same attention as the first.

Jensen glances up at me, his green eyes low and heavy-lidded. Every touch lingers a little longer than his last, sending a slow-burning heat straight through me.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Mm-hmm.” I swallow hard as he curls his fingers around the arch of my foot, kneading a knot I hadn’t realized was there until now.

“Would it be alright if I took Caleb to the ranch house today? Mama Julie’s got a playroom full of games and crafts, and I figured he would have fun feeding the chickens.

” I have to concentrate hard to keep my thoughts focused.

“The dining room table has a clear line of vision into the playroom and outside. You’re welcome to work from there this afternoon if you want. ”

Jensen is silent as he mulls over my proposal, never stopping his thumb’s slow, deliberate movements.

My suggestion is one way I can soothe his concerns about Caleb and show him that stepping back doesn’t mean letting go. It’s a step toward balance that I hope he’ll accept, but this has to be his choice.

After a minute, he nods. “Yeah, that works. Heath texted earlier to say the truck he’s lending me is ready. He’s bringing it back this afternoon, so I’ll meet him at the ranch house.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Jensen’s hands have stopped moving, but his fingers linger on my foot. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

“Thanks for the massage,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended.

His lips lift into a faint grin. “Anytime.” He brushes his thumb over my ankle one last time before gently setting my foot down. “We should go get Caleb so we can head out.”

I nod, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Good idea.”

I’m quick to stand and hurry toward the stairs, my pounding pulse revealing my body’s response to his touch. It was just a foot massage. There’s no reason for me to be flustered. He was only being nice, and I’m obviously turning it into something it’s not.

I’m relieved when we get to Caleb’s room, grateful for the shift in focus. He’s hunched over the craft table in the corner, coloring a picture.

He pauses, glancing over to give us a small smile.

“Hey, little man.” I crouch to his level and give his hair a tousle. “How’d you like to lend me a hand on the ranch today? I have to feed the chickens, and I could use a second set of hands.”

He picks at the crinkled paper around the blue crayon he’s holding, his eyes darting around the room until they land on Jensen.

“You can go if you’d like,” Jensen says gently.

Caleb sets his crayon down and grabs his stuffie off the floor.

He holds it tight, rubbing the belly as he considers his options.

I wait patiently, giving him the space to process.

He doesn’t have much control over his life right now, so it’s important to let him make choices in the areas where he can.

After a few seconds, he draws a deep breath and nods .

I grin, clapping my hands together. “Great. Your dad will ride with us to the ranch house and will be inside if we need anything.”

I can’t tell if that reassures Caleb or not. He’s still adjusting to being around new people, and I wish I had a better read on what he’s thinking—or what might help him feel more comfortable. I’m sure Jensen wishes the same thing.

After I change my clothes and Jensen collects his laptop, we all pile into my Jeep. He’s already installed a booster seat for Caleb, so I’ll have it ready whenever we go out when I’m watching him.

As we pull out onto the road leading to the ranch, Jensen points at the dashboard where more than fifty rubber ducks are scattered across the surface in a sea of yellow.

“That’s quite the collection. Do they judge your driving?

I feel like that one’s been side-eyeing me since I got in.

” He motions to the pirate duck with an eye patch.

“Oh, him? That’s Captain Quackbeard. He’s just protective. You’re lucky he hasn’t made you walk the plank yet,” I tease as I pull onto the gravel road leading to the ranch house.

When Caleb giggles from the back seat, Jensen’s smile is instantaneous; it softens his sharp features and takes the edge off his usual cool demeanor. It makes me want to find more ways to make Caleb laugh, hoping it’ll help Jensen drop the walls he hides behind.

“The others are excellent copilots,” I add, maintaining a straight face.

“Where’d they all come from?” Jensen asks.

“I got the first few from Tinker Toys, a toy shop in town. My friends thought it would be funny to gift me ones I didn’t have yet, and it snowballed from there. Now, I have my own rubber duck empire.” I motion to the dashboard of ducks.

One by the steering wheel is rocking a red polka-dot swimsuit, another’s geared up for scuba diving with a tiny snorkel, and my favorite has gone full cowgirl with a pink bandana, hat, and sunglasses.

Charlie got me that one from an airport gift shop in Texas, saying my collection wouldn’t be complete without it.

The Frozen soundtrack plays as we drive.

One of my friends, Wren, told me that her daughter Lottie listens to it on repeat, so I figured Caleb might enjoy it since they’re close to the same age.

When I glance in the rearview mirror, my breath catches when I find him mouthing the lyrics like it’s second nature, his eyes fixed out the window.

I tap Jensen’s arm, nodding toward the back seat. He looks back, blinking rapidly before his lips curl into a faint smile. There’s something special about observing him as he watches his son slowly come out of his shell. It’s a gradual process, but every little moment is a victory to celebrate.

He turns to me, mouthing the words “thank you.”

I tip my hat in response as a silent “you’re welcome.”

When we pull up to the ranch house, the driveway is empty. This makes sense, given that Mama Julie is still at the school, Walker and Heath are running errands in town, and Pops is probably out feeding the livestock. Once I’ve parked, I check my phone, noticing several missed text messages.

Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat

Birdie: Briar, is it true you’re nannying for Jensen Harding?

Charlie: Briar Elise Halstead, I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other.

Charlie: Besides, I thought you weren’t into him?!

Briar: I’m not.

I bite my lower lip, thankful she can’t read my expression.

Charlie: Uh-huh.

Briar: I agreed to do it for Caleb.