FLIC:If Jen hadn’t just called in sick with a stomach bug, I’d be there. Just try not to get any more splinters.
IZZY:You love it really.
FLIC:And what the hell have you done to that man? I’ve barely known him to crack a smile and now he’s throwing parties?
FLIC:Promise me you’ll wear something nice. And by nice, I mean not the clothes you wear for ranching. And brush your hair!
IZZY:It’s not a date!
FLIC:It’s not nothing either!
“When you said a barbeque by the lake, I thought you meant a few burgers. This is quite something…” I trail off, taking in the scene before me: the long foldout table and chairs near the tree line, buckets of beer and soft drinks, string lights and lanterns strewn in the trees, lit by a generator humming softly from somewhere nearby.
Dylan grins, taking in the same view. “Go big or go home, right?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You went from no horses to eighteen overnight.”
He laughs—a low rumble I feel more than hear. The sun is sinking lower, streaking through the trees and over the lake in golds and oranges. There’s still a muggy heat to the evening and I’m grateful I chose a simple white cotton dress. God knows why I listened to Flic, but I’ve left my hair loose and even added eyeliner and lipstick to my usual hurried flick of mascara, laughing off Madison’s, “Why do you look so pretty, Mom?” as we left the trailer earlier.
My gaze roams to the lake every few minutes, to where Jake is pushing Madison on the rope swing. She shrieks with laughter before plunging into the water, Buck diving in after her every time. I feel a tightness in my chest ease at the sound of her happiness. Like the claws of my anxiety—the constant fears I’m letting Mad down—are loosening their hold on me.
A sudden lump forms in my throat. She deserves this—to be surrounded by people who are kind, who see how special she is. Who show up for her. I look at Dylan. He’s watching Mad too, a bottle of beer in his hand, an easy smile on his lips. He’s wearing a fitted white tee and black jeans that mold to his thigh muscles in a way that makes my gaze snag, my mouth dry. And then I’m looking at the sand beneath my feet, remembering lying onDylan’s towel. The way he kissed me—every part of me. Liquid heat burns in my core and I force the image away.
Family dinner, Iz. Thoughts out of the gutter.
I take a breath, catching the aromas of the meat cooking on the grill. Chase is taking his turn flipping burgers. He’s swigging from a beer bottle and he’s wearing bright pink swim trunks, a yellow tee, and an apron that reads, “Hot Stuff Coming Through.” I watch him for a second, the easy way he moves, the lazy grin he throws over his shoulder at Harper as she pretends to scold him for drinking on the job.
He shouts a greeting as a group of two men and two women arrive and greet Mama.
“I wasn’t expecting so many people,” I say, pushing aside the urge to slip into the background.
“I didn’t take you for the shy type, blondie.” Dylan’s voice is teasing, and now it feels like I’m not the only one thinking of lying naked on the shore. “There’s no one here to be scared of.”
“I’m not scared,” I reply.
“Horses are easier to read though, right?” he says, like he’s read my mind.
He lifts a hand, trailing one finger down my arm. The touch is light, lingering for just a second before it’s gone, but it’s enough to send a thrill zipping through my body. I glance back to the rope swing, watching Mad and maybe checking she’s not watching me. Flic’s right. This thing with Dylan, it isn’t nothing, but I don’t want to confuse Madison, especially when she’s already fragile from Hooper letting her down again. For a second my fury at my ex-husband—a Hulk-like rage—threatens to split me in two, but then Dylan moves close enough for me to draw in that leather and wood scent, and my thoughts are his once more.
“She’s fine with Jake,” Dylan murmurs in my ear, so close his beard tickles my skin as he follows my gaze to where Madison isswimming confidently to the shore for another go on the swing. He turns me around and nods to the group that has just arrived.
“They’re our two nearest neighbors and Mama’s friends.” He turns me a fraction so we’re facing the next group. “You met Mia and Serena at the first pre-season game, right?” he asks. I nod, looking to where Harper is standing in a cute, cropped red tee and black denim skirt with the two other women. Mia is wearing cowboy boots and a bohemian skirt, black braids loose down her back, looking like she stepped right out of a country music video. And Serena is beside her. Where Mia is beautiful and Harper is petite and cute as hell, Serena is a goddess. The kind of stunning that shouldn’t exist outside of one of Madison’s Disney movies. Blonde hair that flows in silk waves down her back and an easy smile that makes her look both effortlessly cool and completely untouchable.
“Mia is the bigshot at Arquette Media, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, but before that she was Colorado’s youth champion barrel racer.”
As I’m staring, Chase steps over from the grill, throwing an arm around Serena’s shoulder.
“Are Serena and Chase…?”
Dylan laughs. “Not even close. They’ve been best friends since middle school. God knows why she still puts up with him, but they seem to have the same weird sense of humor. She used to be a Stormhawks cheerleader, but now she’s one of the coaches for the cheer team and choreographs the routines.”
“Cheerleader—I can see that.” I never thought of myself as insecure, but it’s hard not to compare myself with someone as stunning as Serena.
“You’d think she’d be a total bitch, right?” Dylan adds. “But she’s actually one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Completely down to earth. All she wants is the white picket fence, the kids, the minivan…”
I raise my brows. “The line of guys waiting to give her that must be wrapped around the block.”
