“How’s my little wildfire?”
I grin. “I’m great.”
Then I gesture toward Porter. “Daddy, this is my boss, Porter Garrison.”
I turn slightly. “Porter, this is my father, Albert Storm.”
Daddy wipes his hand on a towel before reaching out. “Nice to meet you, son.”
Porter shakes it firmly. “Likewise, sir.”
Daddy studies him for a breath before nodding approvingly.
“Well, I hope you guys brought your appetite,” he says. “Meat’s almost ready.”
“I did,” Porter assures him.
Daddy grins.
“How’s Blue Bessie?” I ask.
“All patched up and good as new. Your grandpa and I will pick her up after church tomorrow.”
I kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
We leave him to his grill and start toward the bonfire.
The flames are dancing high and bright, sparks drifting upward like fireflies.
We’re almost there when someone calls out, “Hey! Porter Garrison.”
I turn.
Waylon Ludlow is walking toward us with that crooked grin he always wears. “Long time no see.”
I blink. “You two know each other?”
Waylon jerks a thumb toward Porter. “Yeah. His family owns the Silver Spur Ranch over near Moose.”
My eyes widen. “Wait, you know the ranch?”
Waylon nods. “Yeah. Pop used to buy livestock and bull straw from Porter’s granddad back in the day.”
I look at Porter. “You never mentioned that.”
He shrugs slightly. “Didn’t know you knew the Ludlows.”
Waylon chuckles. “We’re practically family.” He winks at me. “Soon anyway.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Waylon is Shelby’s fella,” I tell Porter.
“What brings you out here?” Waylon asks him.
Porter lifts his beer. “I’m just here for the party.”
Waylon glances around the yard before nodding. “Well, it’s good to see you, man.” He claps Porter on the shoulder. “We’ll have to catch up sometime. Come out to Ironhorse, see Pop. Meet my daughter, Ruby.”
