"Thought you might need a hand with the last of the winter stores," he said, his voice low against the steady rain.
The air inside the barn was thick with the scent of dried timothy hay and the sweet, sharp musk of horses. Outside, the summer storm was finally breaking, sending heavy droplets drumming against the tin roof in a rhythmic, metallic pulse. busty in barn
He stepped further into the loft, the straw crunching beneath his boots. "I don't doubt you do. But two pairs of hands are faster than one, and the wind is picking up." "Thought you might need a hand with the
They worked in a shared, comfortable silence for a while—the only sounds were the rustle of hay and the occasional low whinny from the stalls below. As they moved the final bale into place, Clara tripped slightly over a loose floorboard. Silas was there in an instant, his hand steadying her arm. He stepped further into the loft, the straw