She glares at me, but I can see the corner of her mouthtwitching, fighting a losing battle against a smile. It's a small victory, but I'll take it.
"Of course you would have a female horse named Dodge. And what are you gonna do if I tell you?"
"Guess you'll just have to trust me and find out"
“I know you won’t hurt the man who did it,” she says, looking away now, not as confident as she just was.
"You should know by now I'm not scared to get blood on my hands, especially if that'll stop all that cryin’ mess."
She sniffs and lifts her gaze to meet mine. "My daddy," she finally whispers.
"Your daddy?" I ask, and fuck me sideways riding a bull because she’s right. I wouldn’t put my hands on that grumpy old man if she paid me.
“He’s stubborn as hell,” she breathes out, throwing her hands up. “Have you seen this place? I’m surprised the barn is still standing. He can’t take care of the land anymore. He’s getting too old to manage it on his own.”
She shakes her head, words spilling faster now. “And Knox tries to help when he can, but he can’t shoulder it either. My daddy holds a grudge against me for leaving, and boy, is he punishing me for it. But I want what’s best for him. I’m going to convince him to sell this place. I’ll take care of the sale, take care of him, then get the hell out of here.”
The silence turns heavy. She knows she let too much slip, and worse, she let it slip to me. It’s written all over her face, she’s already kicking herself for looking weak in front of the last man she’d want to. And in that moment, I realize that whether she likes it or not, we have more in common than she thinks—we're both tied to the land from our ancestors, by the blood and sweat that's been poured into it. I have a feeling this land means more to her than she’s willing to let on.
I hate that I want to fix it for her. For Knox. For all of ‘em. Pride’s a mean bastard—it can choke the sense clean oughta a man, even good men like her daddy and Knox. But damn, why hasn’t Knox said anything? Because hell, I'd walk through fire for him and his family—and here I am, clueless about how bad things have gotten around these parts.
“Sounds like a lot,” I finally say, glancing toward the weathered beams holding this place together. “I can’t help you with your old man. But there’s one thing I do know… a man lives and dies on his ranch. Ain’t no convincing him otherwise. It’s just the way it is. Though… I’ll be honest. I was kinda hoping you’d say it was that ex of yours who made you cry. At least then I could’ve handled it.”
That earns me the tiniest huff of a laugh. “Harrison? No. He thinks everything can be solved with a three-hundred-dollar steak and a glass of wine in some private dining room he rented.”
I rub my jaw. “Don’t tell me those are the dates he took you on.”
“What’s wrong with a date like that?” she challenges, a spark finally lighting back in her eyes.
“Nothing,” I shrug, letting my grin spread slow. “Except it sounds boring as hell. Predictable, too. Any guy can flash a card and order you a steak. But that’s not what sticks. What you remember is a man who makes you smile so hard you forget whatever kinda day you had—stress, bullshit, all of it.”
Her laugh slips out before she can stop it, soft and surprised. “And what do you know about taking a woman on a date? I thought the Stetsons don’t date.”
“Oh, we date,” I say, leaning in just enough. “We just don’t fall in love. It’s a Stetson rule.”
She arches a brow, lips twitching. “Well, if you ask me, that sounds boring and predictable.”
I chuckle, tipping my hat back. “Maybe so. But how about you wipe those tears and come with me.”
Suspicion flickers across her face, but it’s softened by the curiosity I was counting on. “Where are you takin’ me?”
I flash her the kind of grin that’s gotten me out of more trouble than it should as I reach for her hand. “Gonna show you what it’s like to go on a real date. How us cowboys do it… get your mind off all this cryin’. Try your best not to fall for me, sweetheart.”
sixteen
Sawyer
I’m in Trouble’s truck when the neon glow of the small-town fair spills into view, ferris wheel lights spinning slow and steady against the night sky. Country music drifts faintly across the gravel lot, mingled with laughter and the smell of fried everything.
I arch a brow at him. “This is where you take girls to sweep them off their feet?”
“Just wait,” he drawls, killing the engine.
I reach for the handle, but his voice cuts me off. “Nope. Date starts now. You let me get that.”
He hops out before I can argue, rounding the truck with that cocky, easy stride. When he opens the door, I give him my hand, feeling the rough calluses against my palm as he helps me down. A grin tugs at my lips despite myself. “Starting off strong.”
I make myself relax, leaning into the moment. It’s not like it means anything to him. He’s probably just doing this to prove some point—or worse, because he felt sorry for me after catching me crying. Either way… what could it hurt?
