I climbed down reluctantly, wiping my hands on my jeans. Daddy's "gather 'round" voice meant family business, whichmeant I needed to be present and accounted for even though I had approximately eight hundred other things to do.
The Blackwoods assembled with the ease of long practice. Wyatt and Ivy, still in business mode. Liam, with Stephanie tucked under his arm, both of them looking more relaxed than I'd seen them in months. Clay, leaning against the fence next to Hunter, still wearing his competition number from the bronc riding he'd dominated earlier—because of course he had. Clay Blackwood didn't compete in anything he didn't plan to win. Hunter had his usual beer.
Sophia stood a little apart from the chaos, watching it all with that quiet steadiness of hers—close enough to belong, far enough not to get trampled. When she caught my eye, she smiled, soft and familiar, the kind that said, this is good, we're good, and for a moment I let myself believe it.
Momma hovered near Daddy with that quiet, watchful expression she got when she knew something the rest of us didn't.
I joined the group, positioning myself near Ivy, where I could make a quick escape if needed.
"Alright," Daddy said, his voice carrying that easy authority that had been running this ranch for forty years. "As you all know, we've been looking to bring on some help. Someone with real horse experience, especially as we think about growing that side of the operation."
My ears perked up. Horse experience?
This was the first time I was hearing about any new hire. Usually, I was involved in staffing decisions—especially anything to do with horses. The fact that Daddy had apparently made this call without consulting me was... interesting. And by interesting, I meant irritating as hell.
"Found a man who comes highly recommended by Golden Circle in Wild Creek," Daddy continued. "Grew up on a ranch inMontana, knows his way around livestock, and has the kind of steady temperament you want working with green horses."
I was already running through questions in my head. Who exactly recommended him? What's his background? Has anyone checked his references? Why wasn't I?—
"Come on over and meet the family,” he called out, turning toward the barn.
The ground felt like it gave beneath my feet when a familiar figure emerged from the shadow of the barn door.
My heart plummeted when a German Shepherd trotted after him.
No. Absolutely the fuck not. I refused to believe it. Not even after my dad said, “Everyone, this is Jack Remington.”
Jack walked toward us with that same unhurried stride I remembered from the bar. Same broad shoulders. Same capable hands. Same quiet confidence that didn't need to announce itself. He stopped in front of my father, and for one wild second, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was a different guy. Maybe the universe wasn't actually this cruel.
But he turned to face the group, and those whiskey eyes swept across the assembled Blackwoods, and I knew I wasn’t wrong.
I knew because my body knew.
My skin remembered his hands. My mouth remembered his mouth. My thighs remembered being wrapped around his hips while he drove into me so deep I forgot how to breathe—the way he'd growled my name against my throat when I tightened around him, the way he'd pinned my wrists above my head and told me to say it again?—
Stop. Stop it right now.
I could feel my cheeks burning. Could feel heat pooling low in my belly despite the fact that I was standing in the middle ofmy family's rodeo surrounded by approximately twelve hundred people.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh no.
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. The universe could not possibly be this cruel, this ironic, this absolutely fucking biblical in its punishment for one night of well-deserved stress relief.
Daddy was completely oblivious to the fact that I was having a full-scale internal meltdown three feet away while he introduced my one-night stand to everyone. "Jack, meet the family. My wife, Louisa, my eldest Wyatt, and his wife, Ivy. My sons Clay, Hunter, and Liam, and his fiancée, Stephanie. And here are my daughters, Maggie and Sophia"
Jack shook hands with everyone, calm and polite and completely fucking unreadable. When he got to me, his expression didn't flicker. Didn't change. He took my hand like he'd never touched any other part of me, like I was just another Blackwood to meet, like that night in Wild Creek had never happened.
"Ma'am," he said.
Ma'am.
I was going to kill him.
"Mr. Remington," I managed, and my voice came out steady, which was a miracle of biblical proportions considering my internal monologue had devolved into nothing but screaming.
His hand was warm and calloused and familiar in ways that made me want to yank it back and also never let go. Sully looked up at me with those intelligent eyes, and I swear to God the animal recognized me. His tail gave one slow wag before he settled back into watchful stillness.
I dropped Jack's hand like it burned me.
