"Can I wear your hat?"
I glanced toward the chutes. Maybe twenty minutes before my ride. Twenty minutes to get this kid somewhere safe, get my head straight, and get on a bull.
"Tell you what—after my ride, you can wear it as long as you want."
Her eyes sparkled, and something in my chest swelled. “Promise?" she asked, voice tiny and sweet.
"Promise."
Five minutes ago, I'd been scanning the crowd for buckle bunnies. Now I was holding a kid's sticky hand and making promises about hats, and somehow it didn't feel like a detour.
I found them in the family section. The Blackwoods had claimed an entire row—because of course they had. Momma in her usual spot, Dad beside her with his hat on his knee. Wyatt and Ivy were next to them, Wyatt's arm slung over the back of Ivy's chair. Liam and Stephanie, Hunter and Sophia, even my little brother Luke had made it. And at the end, Maggie leaned into Jack's side, his arm around her shoulders in that easy, automatic way of a man who'd gotten used to holding her. They looked settled. Happy in a way that made the air around them easier to breathe. Six months since she'd taken his hand in front of the whole family, under the tree where my parents got married, and declared he was the man she loved.
"Momma," I called, climbing up with Maisie's hand in mine. "I need a favor."
Her expression moved through four phases in two seconds: surprise, confusion, maternal alarm at Maisie's tear-streaked face, and then that warm, open-armed thing she did that made every lost creature on earth feel like they'd come home.
"Well, hello there, precious. Who is this?"
I rested my hands on my hips, sighing as I said, “Maisie Elizabeth Monroe. She tells me that's the whole thing."
Maisie pressed into my leg, shy but hopeful. Momma extended her hand with the patience of a woman who'd raised seven children and knew trust was earned. “Nice to meet you, Maisie Elizabeth Monroe. I’m Louisa Mae Blackwood.”
"She got separated from her mom near the stock pens," I said. "My ride's in fifteen?—"
"Say no more." Momma smiled at Maisie. "Would you like to sit with me and watch Clay ride?"
Maisie looked up at me. "She's really your mom?"
"She really is.” And I was damn lucky for it. We all were.
"She's pretty."
Momma laughed. I grinned at Maisie. “Don’t tell her that. Goes straight to her head."
"Clay Owen Blackwood!” she scolded with her cracked-whip voice.
Maggie snorted from Jack's shoulder. "Eleven seconds before getting middle-named. That might be a record.”
I grinned at her. "Looking domestic as hell, Mags."
"Feeling it too." She smiled—real, full, the kind she'd been stingy with for years. Jack caught my eye and gave me a nod. Steady. Solid. I nodded back.
“Miss Louisa?" Maisie's small voice. "Do you have snacks?"
Momma smiled, soft and warm. Like she missed having a little one to take care of. “Honey, I always have snacks."
"Goldfish? The rainbow ones, not the regular ones. The regular ones are boring."
She looked at me. "Go. Ride. Win. We've got her."
I crouched to Maisie one more time. "After I ride, we find your mommy."
She touched the brim of my hat. "With the horns and the raaarrgh?"
"With the horns and the raaarrgh."
"I'm going to watch you."
