The second the can hits the ground, I wipe my mouth, thank the boys sweetly, and start to walk away. But then I pause, turning back toward the three of them with a coy tilt of my head.
“Oh,” I add with a sugary smile, amping this up just enough. “Maybe one of y’all can teach me about Fireball next?”
Three pairs of eyes light up like I just offered front-row tickets to the Super Bowl.
“Which one of us?” Charming asks, practically bouncing. God, is he wagging his imaginary tail right now?
“Yeah, I got a bottle right here!” Green Eyes says, reaching into the cooler like he’s pulling out gold. Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone look so proud to produce a cinnamon mistake in a bottle.
“Hmm. How about this… Why don’t y’all arm wrestle for it?”
There’s half a second of stunned silence before testosterone takes the wheel. Then they lunge for the tailgate like gladiators, shoving each other and clearing space.
“I got this!”
“Not a chance, dimples.”
“Gonna wipe the floor with both of you.”
Chaos. Beautiful, glorious chaos. One little nudge from me and they’re eating out of my hand.
And Trouble? He’s just standing there, arms crossed, murder in his eyes and steam practically pouring out his ears. Oh, he hates this. Every second of it. Which makes me love it even more.
I stroll back over to him slowly and lean against the tailgate beside him like I haven’t just deflated his ego in under two minutes.Checkmate, cowboy.
“You were saying?”
seven
Trouble
By the next evening, after wrapping up a long day on the ranch, Danger’s already losing his damn mind over something new.
"We're missin' one of our horse trailers,” he yells. "I don't think Rogue locked it down. Noticed it was gone this mornin'."
Heat crawls up my neck. I shove my hat back, then jerk it back down hard.
"Last month it was equipment," I say, thinking about all the shit that has gone missing lately. "Now a trailer?"
Someone was playing a dangerous game, thinkin’ they can just take what's ours without any consequence. Guess we’ll have to remind them why that's a mistake.
"You know exactly who it is," he murmurs, not having to say the words.
"Oh, I fucking know who it is," I drawl, rolling the toothpick to the corner of my mouth. My boots scuff the dirt as I turn to face him. "Let's go get our shit back."
It's in the way Danger nods, the understanding thathardens our expressions. We'll reclaim what's ours, take back our shit, and send them a message they can’t ignore. There's no question in my mind, no doubt about who did this. It's always been a game of cat and mouse with them.
"Heard the Kennedy’s have a family wedding. Whole lotta’ them left town," Danger says with a wink.
"Then I say we have us a little barbeque," I mutter under my breath.
The Kennedy’s ranch was where we’d find our missing trailer. The rivalry between our families runs deep—all the way back to my great-granddaddy’s first love. She was the daughter of the original rancher there, but their families eventually tore them apart. Luckily, he found love again with my great-grandmother. But ever since, it's been war. One that passed from one generation to the next.
When locals talk horses, they're choosing between our stock and theirs; ours are superior, naturally. But lately, they've been playing dirty, poaching clients… and now, stealing from us outright. They have three men around the same age as me and my brothers, and two younger sisters.
We grew up pulling pranks on the Kennedy kids. It was a simpler time when the feud was playful—harmless, even. But the stakes are higher now, the game more dangerous. And the temptation to strike back, to do to them what they've done to us, is always too tempting to resist.
"I'll let the group know," Danger draws, before he turns and disappears.
