"Well, I don't think my daddy would be too happy about that," pipes up a voice so small and unexpected it might as well have come from the raccoon itself.
I blink, taken aback, spatula still poised mid-air. My heart skips, then thunders in my chest. It's not a little beast,but a boy—no taller than the trashcan beside him, his grin is wide and bright.
"Whoa. Sorry, there," I stammer, lowering the spatula like it’s an actual weapon. "I thought you were the raccoon that has been bothering me all night."
Fisher tilts his head, eyes twinkling with mischief beneath a mop of unruly curly hair. "Nah, I heard 'bout your little friend and was hopin' to come see him, but I reckon he's skedaddled." His words roll out with a twang so charming it could make the birds sing.
"I’m sure he’ll be back soon," I laugh, and lean against the door frame. “But I’m starting to see why everyone talks so highly of you.”
"Yep." He puffs out his chest. "Pretty big deal 'round these parts."
"Big deal, huh?" I tease, trying my best to hold back another laugh at his pint-sized echo of the Stetson swagger that seems to be a family trait. "You've got that confidence that seems cut from the same cloth as your uncles."
He rocks back on his heels, hands stuffed in the pockets of his athletic shorts, his grin impish and wide. "Yeah, they get it from me," he retorts, and there's something in his voice—a hint of old soul mixed with sweet youth—that makes me think he truly believes he's the originator.
“I’m sure. You must love it out here with them,” I say, glancing at the wide stretch of land around us.
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Depends on the day.” Then his eyes flick back to mine. “What about you? You liking it out here?”
“More than I expected,” I admit. “Your family's been taking good care of me.”
His eyes narrow just a little with a teasing glint. “Myfamily—or one of my uncles?” He tilts his head as he adds, “Which uncle in particular?”
I stifle a laugh. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that?"
"Yep, got that going for me too," he grins, and I shake my head as I close the door behind me.
"What do you say we see what your nana has whipped up for breakfast?" I ask, nodding in the direction of PJ’s.
"Now you're speaking my language."
The farmhouse door swings open as we walk in, and freshly brewed coffee and bacon drifts to greet us. There's something about it that feels timeless and comforting.
"Morning, y'all," PJ greets us, her smile bright as she ushers us in.
“Tried to get the gossip outta Sawyer,” Fisher announces beside me, hands on his hips like a tiny sheriff. “But she’s playin’ it cool. Which makes me think she’s got a crush on somebody she shouldn’t. Probably means Trouble.”
I gasp, hand to my chest. “Now why would you think that?”
Fisher grins like he knows exactly why.
PJ leans in with a wink and whispers, “That boy’s always keepin’ tabs. Thinks his daddy needs a wife, and maybe if he wishes hard enough, one’ll just magically show up on the ranch.”
I catch a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. Danger, the man she’s referring to, walks through the doorway after us. He's the kind of man who you can tell carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, the kind of cowboy you definitely don't mess with. But you’d probably have to be, being the oldest of all his reckless brothers.
His hand lifts, pushing back the brim of his hat just enough to reveal those sharp, assessing eyes. “Yeah… Not happenin’,” he says sternly, like he didn’t miss a single word PJ let slip.
He strides past us, heading straight for the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.
PJ breaks the silence. "Anyways, darlin'," she says, eyes crinkling at the corners with a knowing smile, "you're welcome to go into town with me if you'd like. The Summer Barn Dance is tonight. Was thinking of picking up something nice to wear."
"I'd love to," I answer. "Seems like there's always something going on here during the summer."
PJ chuckles beside me. "Around here there ain't much else to do but keep the folks entertained. Gotta keep us all drinkin’, eatin’, and line dancing somehow."
We hop in the truck, and PJ talks the whole way to town—about ranch gossip, her boys, and who’s beefing with who this week.
After the trip to town with PJ, I head toward home. The dusty road leading to my father's property aggravates me. I have one last errand to do before I can meet Honey at the Summer Barn Dance.
