The Chill Thrill fundraiser was a Mustang Mountain tradition — cold, chaotic, and impossible to talk people out of. This year, the organizers were donating the money they raised to the rodeo fund. Which was why I’d shown up at the edge of Lake Bliss before the sun cleared the ridge.
I set the ropes and checked the exits. The cold didn’t scare me but having someone panic in the ice did. “Give me another foot,” I yelled out to my brother-in-law.
Hayes shifted the post without saying a word, his boots crunching loudly in the snow. We worked well together. The fact that he was married to my sister didn’t change that. If anything, it made both of us more determined not to screw up.
My sister Sidney hovered nearby, her arms folded, tracking the setup like she was already anticipating problems. She’d always been good at seeing what could go wrong before it did.
“Are you trying to herd cattle or people?” she asked.
“People are harder,” I said.
She smirked. “You’re not wrong.”
I glanced toward the lake, where a few early volunteers were stamping their feet and laughing too loud, already riding the adrenaline. The warming tent was set up with towels stacked high on folding tables, and the EMT truck would arrive soon. Everything was under control. That should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t.
“Where do you want the donation table?” Hayes asked.
“One at check-in and one by the exit,” I said. “People will probably give more once they’re out of the water and realized they survived.”
Sidney studied me, something unreadable in her expression. “You’re doing a good job, you know.”
“I know.”
She tilted her head. “Doesn’t sound like you know it.”
Before I could answer, movement near the parking lot caught my attention. Morgan had arrived. She walked toward the registration table like the stares didn’t bother her, which was irritating considering most people had to work a lot harder to feel that comfortable in Mustang Mountain. She paused as she reached the tent, her eyes scanning the setup like she was looking for gaps in the plan or issues with how we’d laid things out. I told myself the tightness in my chest was because I hadn’t had enough coffee yet and had nothing to do with her.
I watched as Morgan greeted the volunteer manning the registration table. She smiled, nodded, and reached for the clipboard. Then she scrawled her name on the sign-up sheet.
Something sharp twisted in my gut. “No.” The word was out of my mouth before I realized I’d moved.
She looked up slowly, those blue eyes cool and unamused. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not jumping in that lake.”
A few heads turned. The volunteer froze.
Morgan straightened. “What makes you think you have any say?”
“This isn’t a dare,” I said, keeping my voice low even as irritation sparked. “It’s a fundraiser.”
“And the fundraiser is for the rodeo,” she shot back. “Which I’m overseeing.”
“And if you end up hypothermic, the town will blame the event. Then they’ll blame the rodeo. Then they’ll blame the land. Guess who’ll be standing in front of them when that happens.”
Her jaw set. “You don’t get to manage me because it’s inconvenient.”
“I’m not managing you,” I snapped. “I’m managing risk.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “That’s funny. Sounds like you’re trying to exert control from where I’m standing.”
“You want to prove you belong here?” I leaned in, lowering my voice even more. “Fine. Do it without risking an ambulance.”
She met my gaze head-on. And scrawled her name across the waiver before handing it back to the volunteer. “I’ll see you in the water, Slade.”
I stood there with my pulse hammering and my temper stretched thin. There was no way she was going in that water without me.
I kept an eye on her the rest of the morning until it was time for the first round of folks to take the plunge. She didn’t hesitate at the lake’s edge. When the countdown started, she stood straight, her shoulders squared, her eyes forward. When the timer hit zero, she jumped.
