Jackson leans one elbow on the bar beside me, his body turned toward mine in a casually predatory way I’ve seen too many times before. “Tell me, Denver. You ever ridden before?”
My eyebrows lift. “A horse?”
He chuckles, low and slow. “Yeah. A horse.”
I catch the edge of innuendo in his tone and roll my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Once. A few days ago, actually. Pace took me around the corral.”
Jackson whistles, impressed or pretending to be. “Damn. Pace Denver letting you on one of his horses? That’s more shocking than Lee calling you his sister.”
Lee snorts. “Don’t start.”
But Jackson’s attention is still pinned to me. “Let me guess—he put you on Old Lady May?”
I nod, and Jackson taps the bar, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “The safest horse in three counties. You could fall asleep on her, and she’d still carry you home.”
“Sounds like my kind of ride,” I say, deadpan.
He lets out a bark of laughter. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”
The bartender finally makes his way over, and Lee orders us all lemonades, which surprises me more than anything else. No beer? No whiskey?
Jackson must see the question forming because he tips his head toward the open field behind the bar, where trailers and horses are scattered like pieces on a game board. “May be a fun get together, but some of us still have work to do later. No one drinks before the gates close. Not unless they’re stupid.”
“Or is trying to not get on his father’s shit list today,” Lee adds under his breath.
“Guilty,” Jackson says, then grins at me. “You should come to the practice track sometime. I’ll show you what a real horse looks like.”
“You offering a tour or an excuse to stare at your reflection in a saddle buckle?”
Lee nearly spits his lemonade.
Jackson grins, unaffected. “Maybe both. I’m an efficient man.”
“Arrogant,” Lee corrects.
“Accurate,” Jackson replies without missing a beat. Then he lifts his lemonade in mock toast. “To the Denver diamond. You’ve officially survived your first week without running off.”
I clink my glass against his without thinking. “Barely.”
Jackson’s eyes sparkle. “That’s the spirit.”
But as I take a sip and glance out toward the horizon where the dust is kicking up again from the practice run, I can’t help but wonder how long this uneasy peace will last. I’m still a stranger here, even if some of them treat me like I belong.
14
I’m definitely overdressedfor this party.
I wasn’t way earlier, when the crowd was thin and the sun still hung high in the sky. But as the evening deepens and more people roll in, the vibe shifts. Now I understand what Jackson meant about no one drinking until the gates closed.
Even Lee and Pace disappeared for an hour during the so-called “casual” pool party to help the Black Diamond ranchers wrap up for the day. And now that everything’s done, the real party has started.
And by “real,” I mean barely controlled chaos.
People lounge around the massive pool, drinks in hand, music thumping low through hidden speakers. Boots have been traded for bare feet, denim shorts for bikinis—or nothing at all. The mood has gone from easygoing to unfiltered. Wild.
Too wild.
I shift uncomfortably as more girls wade into the pool, topless and unbothered, their laughter sharp and flirtatious. Their eyes flick toward the men clustered nearby, hungry and playful. There’s nothing modest about it. And clearly, no one minds.
