There's baggage here, layers of hurt and misunderstanding that run bone-deep. But there's also something else, something that looks like the beginning of healing, fragile as a new calf but real.
When we reach Blackwell Ranch, the morning sun is climbing higher, turning the pasturelands golden and making the mountains in the distance look like something from a travel magazine. Cattle dot the fields in small clusters, mothers with their calves never straying far from their sides, and the sight of it all takes my breath away.
"Jesus, it's beautiful," I breathe, and I mean it. There's something about this place that speaks to a part of me I never knew existed before coming to Montana.
"Wait until you see it during fall roundup," Beau says, and I catch the pride in his voice despite his attempt to sound casual. "October, when the aspen leaves are turning gold and the cattle are fat from summer grazing."
It's the most he's said since we left Gabriel's house, and I treasure the fact that he's talking about October like I might still be here to see it. Like maybe this isn't just a temporary arrangement.
We spend the morning checking water sources and moving cattle, and I quickly learn that ranch work is equal parts backbreaking labor and quiet meditation.
The rhythm of it is soothing in a way I didn't expect. The steady pace of walking pastures, the low sounds cattle make to communicate with each other, the way the land stretches out endless and peaceful under the Montana sky.
But as the day wears on, the tension between all three of us becomes harder to ignore. Colt and Beau work around each other with the careful precision of two people who know each other too well to need words, but there's an undercurrent of uncertainty in every interaction.
And both of them keep glancing at me when they think I'm not looking, like they're trying to figure out where we all fit in this delicate equation.
By afternoon, I've had enough of walking on eggshells.
We're refilling the water tanks near the south pasture, and I'm manning the hose while Colt checks the automatic waterers and Beau counts the herd with the focused intensity he brings to everything.
That's when I make my decision.
Without warning, I turn the hose on Colt, catching him square in the chest with a blast of cold water that soaks through his shirt in seconds.
He jerks backward with a startled curse that would make a sailor blush, water dripping from his hair and plastering his shirt to his chest. "What the hell, Shortie?"
I'm already pivoting toward Beau, who's so surprised he just stands there and takes it like a statue, his mouth falling open in shock as I drench him from head to toe.
"Lucy," he starts, his voice carrying a warning that would probably make smart people back down, "what do you think you're doing?"
My answer is to spray them both again, harder this time, until they're both soaked and sputtering like half-drowned cats.
"What I'm doing," I say, my voice bright with mischief and probably a little hysteria, "is cooling off a couple of cowboys who've been walking around like they're afraid to breathe the same air.Y'allneed to lighten up before you give yourselves hernias from all that careful politeness."
They just stare at me, water dripping from their hair and clothes, caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. Then something shifts in Colt's face, his shock melting into something that looks suspiciously like pure delight.
"Oh, you're gonna pay for that," he says, his grin turning predatory in a way that makes my pulse spike. "You have no idea what you just started."
Beau steps closer, water squelching in his boots, and there's something dark and promising in his voice that makes my breath catch. "We are going to get you for that, sunshine."
The nickname on his lips, combined with the heat in his gray eyes, sends electricity racing through me like lightning.
I drop the hose and run.
"I surrender!" I yell over my shoulder as I take off across the pasture, their footsteps pounding behind me like thunder. "I surrender!"
But I don't really mean it, and from the way they're laughing as they chase me, real laughter, free and wild, I don't think they believe me either.
The barn looms ahead of me, its wide doors open on both ends like a tunnel of salvation. I sprint through it, hay bales creating a maze of hiding spots that smell like summer and horses, but I can hear them behind me, working together now in a way they haven't all day.
"This way," Colt calls out, his voice carrying strategy instead of competition, and I realize with a thrill of panic that they're coordinating, flanking me like the predators they are.
When I glance back, I only see Colt pursuing me with single-minded determination. Where the hell is Beau?
My question is answered when I slam into a wall of solid muscle.
Beau stands there, blocking my path, his wet shirt clinging to his chest and his eyes bright with something that has nothing to do with the chase and everything to do with the way I'm breathing hard and flushed with excitement.
