Blake stands up with a grunt, stretching his legs with a slow, deliberate effort. His muscles aching from the tension of the crash and the adrenaline that had long since burned off, leaving a dull, residual fatigue in its place. The late afternoon sun dipped lower behind Prairie Ridge's county hospital's roofline, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalk.
Rex sits contentedly near Emma's feet, his giant black frame sprawled like a lazy king enjoying his domain. Emma leans down slightly, her fingers buried in the thick fur behind his ears, her nails gently scratching in slow, loving circles. Rex tilts his head toward her touch, his eyes half-lidded in utter canine bliss.
Blake watches the two of them, arms folded across his chest. He'd always thought of Rex as fiercely loyal and borderline overprotective…a dog who didn't warm up to strangers easily. Yet here he was, curled up next to a woman Blake barely knew, acting like he'd known her his whole life.
The thought tugs at something inside Blake's chest, something quiet but insistent.
She sees him, Blake thinks, actually sees Rex. Like he's more than a ranch dog. Like he matters.
The realization unsettles him. In a good way. In a way he isn't ready to name yet.
"So," Blake says, his voice low and gravelly as he tries to break the tension building in his own head, "you've got a way with dogs, huh?"
Emma looks up with a smile, her eyes catching the last golden slant of sunlight. "Only the ones that don't bite. Not the ones that look like they could swallow me whole."
Rex responds with a low, satisfied woof that makes Blake crack a reluctant grin.
"He likes to keep folks on their toes," Blake says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Rex here's the unofficial sheriff of the ranch. Keeps the cattle in line. Keeps me in line too, when I forget who's boss."
Emma laughs, and the sound floats between them like wind chimes in a breeze…soft, surprising and oddly comforting. "Sheriff Rex. I like it. Does he write citations for people who drop scarves innocently?"
Blake chuckles. "Only if it's guilty. He's got standards."
Rex lets out a huff, tail thumping the pavement in a lazy rhythm. The air between them shifts…lighter now, more open.
Blake isn't used to this. Joking around. Letting his guard down. Especially not with someone he'd just met.
He glances at her sideways. "He doesn't usually act like this, you know. Most strangers don't make it past a warning growl."
"Well," Emma says, leaning further down to press a kiss to the top of Rex's massive head, "I guess we've got chemistry."
Blake raises a brow. "You and him, or you and me?"
Emma glances up with a sly smile. "Who says it has to be either?"
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, momentarily at a loss. The sun catches the highlights in her hair and makes her eyes look like a reflection of the sky. The town's noise fades…sirens quieten, onlookers wander off and for a moment, it feels like just the three of them in a pocket of calm the world has forgotten.
"You seem like a man who keeps things controlled," she says gently. "Today must've thrown you off."
"You could say that," Blake mutters. "Didn't expect to have my truck wrecked and my ego dented by a flying accessory."
Emma smirks. "Still blaming the scarf, huh?"
"It had the whole cinematic thing going for it," Blake says. "Slow motion flutter. Soft lighting. Emotional soundtrack."
"Oh, absolutely," Emma replies with mock solemnity. "Best Supporting Role in a Vehicular Melodrama goes to...my scarf."
They both laugh, the sound warm and echoing off the brick hospital walls like a shared secret. Rex stretches, then flops dramatically against Emma's legs, his tail flicking once, twice.
"You know," Emma says, resting a hand on his back, "I think he really likes me."
"Yeah," Blake says, his tone softer now. "He's a pretty good judge of character."
Emma looks at him for a beat longer than necessary. "Then I guess I passed the test."
Blake's heart thuds once…louder than it should've.
He looks down, trying to shake it off. "We should probably get going. The ranch hands might think I've been abducted."
Emma's expression shifts for the briefest second, like she didn't quite want the moment to end either. "Yeah. Sheriff Rex has rounds to do."
Blake motions toward Rex. "And regrettably, he and I come as a package deal."
Rex, as if on cue, gives a regal bark and thuds his tail.
Emma stands, brushing invisible crumbs from her jeans. "Maybe I'll see you around."
Blake hesitates, shifting his weight. The words catching in his throat before he forces them out. "Hey, uh…wait." He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly all thumbs. "Do you, uh...maybe have a number I could call? I mean, not that I'm planning to call. Not in a weird way. Just, you know...in case I need info for the insurance. Or something."
Emma tilts her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Info for insurance, huh?"
"Yeah," Blake says, clearing his throat. "Big critical stuff."
She laughs. "Hand me yours, cowboy."
Blake hands his phone over quickly, trying not to look too eager. She taps in her number, saves it under "Emma (Scarf Danger)" and hands it back.
"There. Now you've got my number, in case there's another flying accessory crisis."
Blake chuckles, stuffing the phone in his pocket like it was suddenly precious cargo. "Good. I'll sleep better tonight."
Emma gives him a playful salute. "Stay safe."
Then turns, walking back across the street toward the café, her figure slowly blending into the growing shadows.
Blake watches her go, hands in his pockets, his jaw tight with something he doesn't quite understand. Hope? Nerves? Something that feels both terrifying and alive.
"You're too much," he mutters to Rex, who has plopped his big head against Blake's thigh. "You think this is a good idea?"
Rex looks up at him and gives a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. Content. Certain.
Blake scratches behind his ears. "What's your deal, huh? Playing cupid now?"
The dog wags his tail like a man closing a sale.
Blake glances up at the sky. The colours have deepened into rich oranges and soft purples. The streetlamps flickering to life one by one. Somewhere behind him, the hospital doors whoosh open, then shut again.
"Twenty years of clean driving," he mutters again.
Rex barks once, gently.
"Yeah, yeah," Blake says, crouching to clip Rex's leash. "You think I should take a chance."
The dog leans into the touch.
Blake stands up straight, looking back towards the café where Emma has disappeared too, sighing and then starts walking away.
By the time they reach the edge of the hospital parking lot, the breeze had cooled, tugging gently at his flannel shirt. The streets were quiet again, peaceful in that small-town, just-after-dusk kind of way.
Later that evening, after a borrowed ride from an off-duty EMT, Blake arrives back at the ranch just as the stars begin to blink to life. He fed the horses, checked the barn and his workers, and tried to settle into his normal routine…but something was off.
He kept glancing at his phone like it owed him something.
Then it buzzes.
Emma:
How about I bring coffee to you tomorrow morning? As a peace offering.
Blake stares at the message for a long moment. He doesn't smile right away. He just reads it again. And again. And feels that flicker inside him spark into a small, steady flame.
He looks down at Rex, who stares back with those deep, knowing eyes.
"Well, boy," he says, finally grinning, "looks like you've gone and done it."
Rex gives a triumphant bark, tail wagging like he'd won a medal.
"Coffee tomorrow," Blake repeats, the words tasting better than they should.
And just like that, the detour didn't feel like a setback anymore.
It felt like the start of something new.