She held out keys.
To Winnie.
The air went razor-sharp. Winnie’s jaw flexed. Pops’ eyes went flinty.
I stepped forward, taking the keys.
“Winnie’s not help. She runs this place. She owns the ranch.”
Solene blinked, laughed lightly. “Oh. Sorry, I just assumed…” She shrugged. “That’s cute. Girl boss farmer?”
“Grew up here,” Winnie said smoothly. “Nana left me the ranch. So yeah. It’s mine.”
“Adopted?” Solene echoed. “Very heartland documentary.” She turned back to me. “So where are we staying? Please tell me there’s a tub. I need to wash this state off and let you get me dirty again.”
“Guest cottage,” Pops drawled, steel underneath. “Clean. Comfortable.”
“And Beau?” Solene slid her arm through mine.
“Guest house is separate,” Winnie said, stepping between Solene and the porch. Polite smile. Hard eyes. “More private. More guest-appropriate. I’ll show you.”
Deliberate positioning—blocking Solene’s path.
“Bring your bags,” she added.
Solene pouted. “Can’t Beau—”
“Guest house,” Pops repeated. “Best we got.”
Solene huffed, shot me a look, and clicked toward the car. Winnie fell into step.
As they walked, Solene’s voice drifted back. “It’s adorable. You playing cowgirl, him playing cowboy. Summer camp with abs.”
“Some of us aren’t playing,” Winnie said lightly. “This is life.”
“Must be nice. Can’t get fired from family jobs.”
“Ranch doesn’t care I’m adopted if I screw up. It dies. Everything on it dies.”
Pops clapped my shoulder. “You did right. Now the hard part.”
“Which is?”
“Provin’ ‘no’ ain’t just a word for when someone’s watchin’.” He nodded toward the guest house. “She didn’t come here to lose.”
“She’s not the one I’m letting win.”
“Then make damn sure everybody knows it.
WINNIE
Shit happens
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
10:00 AM
"City folk think the country is a playground. We know it's a battlefield."
