“Shut the door,” Knox calls from somewhere inside. “You’re lettin’ all the Montana in.” I smirk and step fully inside, letting the screen door snap shut behind me as I close the front door and take off my hat.
The wood floors in the foyer are worn from years of hard-soled boots walking across them. Covering what I am assuming is the worst of the wear is a braided rug, faded and flattened in the center. Family photographs line the walls, generations of sunbaked faces grinning beside horses, calves,and rodeo buckles held up like trophies. This place breathes history.
The hallway leads to the back of the house, opening into a modest but functional kitchen. A heavy wooden table sits at the center, scarred and scratched from decades of use. James is seated at the head, his elbows resting wide and his hands clasped loosely in front of him. With his hat removed, I realize his hair is far more gray than I noticed earlier.
Teagan stands at the stove, her back to me, blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail that brushes the collar of her T-shirt. Her clothes hug her frame, accentuating both her curves and the strength earned from hours in the saddle and hard ranch work.
She turns at the sound of my boots on the linoleum floor, and I’m met with her green eyes. Strikingly green. They catch the light from the overhead fixture and hold it, sparkling. Her face is sun-kissed with high cheekbones and a mouth that looks like it’s perpetually seconds away from either a smile or a challenge.I assume challenge occurs much more often.Her pouty pink lips seem almost at odds with the dust smudged along her jaw from earlier.
She is beautiful. Not delicate or polished, but beautiful in the way the land here is—wild, unfiltered, and impossible to ignore. I have to be nearly a decade older than her.At least.She is entirely too young—and not Rosie—for me to be noticing.
Knox leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “Look who decided to show up.” He smirks. “We were about to start without you.”
I glance at my watch. “It’s five fifty-five.”
James gestures to the empty chair next to Knox. “Sit.”
I dip my head and don’t hesitate to follow his instructions.
Teagan walks toward the table. This close, I can see the faint scrape along her forearm from the fall earlier. She moves like it doesn’t exist, setting a platter of roasted chicken and root vegetables in the center before sliding into the seat opposite me.
James bows his head slightly. Knox and Teagan follow without hesitation. I do the same, unsure of what their protocol is, but not wanting to disrespect it. James’s voice is low and steady when he speaks. “Thank you for the food on this table and the hands that worked for it. Keep us safe tomorrow. Amen.”
“Amen,” the others echo.
I clear my throat softly and whisper, “Amen.” The word is foreign in my mouth, like I’m borrowing it from someone else. The only church I’ve ever sat in was at Rosie’s funeral. I remember wanting to believe in something then, but belief never came. Only grief and hopelessness.
The room is silent, except for the clinking of silverware and creaking of chairs, as plates are passed. Chicken, roasted potatoes, and carrots. It’s simple food, the kind that keeps you upright through a twelve-hour day. The sounds of our eating fill the quiet as Knox stares at me over his hovering fork. “So… Easton,” he says casually, though there is nothing casual about the way his eyes flicker with curiosity. “What are your intentions with our ranch?”
Teagan snorts softly into her glass. James doesn’t look up from his plate, but I can feel his attention on me, nonetheless.
“I’m here to work,” I answer evenly. “As long as you’ll have me.”
“You ever roped?” Knox studies me as he waits for my answer.
“A little. Not competitively.”
Teagan arches a brow. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a cowboy who doesn’t chase calves for sport. Youarea cowboy, right? You can stay on a horse?”
“Something like that.” I smirk, though it’s been so long since I’ve really ridden that I am a little leery about tomorrow.
She finishes her bite and leans back in her chair slightly. “We’ve got rodeo season starting up in a few weeks. That means Knox and I will be gone some weekends.”
“Your father informed me before I took the job.”
“You ride bulls?” Knox asks, a wide grin spreading across his face as excitement flickers in his eyes.
“No,” I scoff. “Definitely not.”
“Smart man.” He chuckles before going into a long history of humorous moments and close calls he’s had on the back of a bucking bronco.
“Deacon will be here in the morning,” James interrupts the casual conversation. “He’s my other son. He lives a few acres east, with his wife and two young boys.”
“Looking forward to it.” The idea of young kids running around this property causes an unexpected reaction, as the future Rosie and I were planning whispers through my thoughts. I push the stolen dream away, not wanting to fall apart at the table.
When Knox opens his mouth again, I eagerly await the distraction until he points at my left hand with his fork. “You married?”
I take a sip of water to buy myself a second. “I was.”
