“I’ll take a Paloma.”
He orders it and a beer for himself.
I nod toward the table. “You want to join us?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Sure.”
Introductions are easy. Caison recognizes him from Ironhorse. Bryce shakes his hand, and he gushes about being a fan. Cabe scoots over to make room as he introduces his brothers.
Dixon settles in beside Cabe, and I sit next to him, his knee brushing mine.
The conversation flows. Shop talk. Horses. Rodeo circuits. Bryce tells Matty all about the professional cowboys he’s been recruiting for the academy, including Royce and Axle, who agreed to help when they weren’t on the road, competing themselves. She announces that she has new hires starting next week—two seasoned cowboys, one young buck, and a female ranch hand. The table erupts.
Shots are ordered.
Harleigh leans toward Bryce, impressed. “I still can’t believe you convinced Matty to let you open a rodeo school. I might need your help talking her into another expansion,” she says.
I see Charli shake her head, mouthing,No, behind Matty’s back, but it’s too late.
“Whatcha have in mind?” he asks her.
“A guest ranch on the southern border, near the base of the mountain range.”
Matty shuts it down instantly. “We are not opening a dude ranch on Wildhaven Storm, Harleigh.”
The mood dips for a moment, but Harleigh wisely brushes it off and changes the subject, asking Dixon if he has any family drama he’d like to share.
The music swells again, and we head back to the dance floor.
I stand and squeeze Dixon’s hand. “Are you good here?”
He smiles. “Yeah, go have fun.”
We line up, falling into a familiar step pattern as Lainey Wilson’s voice, singing “Wildflowers and Wild Horses,” swirls around us.
The second I step inside The Soused Cow, it’s like I hit a wall.
Country music thumps through the floorboards. The place is packed—shoulder to shoulder, bodies pressed close, laughter rising above the hum of conversations. Neon glows against dark wood. The familiar mix of beer, sweat, perfume, and smoke clings to the air.
I almost turn around.
Not because I don’t want to be here, but because I do. Part of me still craves this. The life I lived in Vegas. The nonstop thrill of cheap drinks and meaningless interactions. Like I don’t belong in Wildhaven anymore—the ranch, or my parents’ house. Home has been … complicated since I came back. Not bad. Just full. Full of memories, expectations, ghosts that still call my name.
But Allen, one of Ironhorse’s employees, claps a hand on my shoulder from behind. “Come on, Ludlow. You promised two drinks. Don’t go soft on us now.”
I huff out a laugh and keep walking.
Ruby’s with my mom tonight. Momma practically snatched her out of my arms when I dropped her off after work. Said she missed her this week while she was in day care, that a grandmother needs her one-on-one time with her granddaughter. Ruby went willingly, chattering about her new friends and painting nails and “sleepovers at Nana’s,” so I didn’t fight it.
And I let a few of the ranch hands talk me into a night out, which is how I ended up here.
Allen points toward the pool tables. “I’m gonna grab us a table before someone else snags the last one. Get me a beer?”
“Yeah,” I say. “What do you want?”
“Whatever’s cold.”
He disappears into the crowd, already sizing up his competition.
