Page 165 of Colt

Everyone is smiling at us. Then the band starts playing an old Garth Brooks favorite, and suddenly we’re all dancing in a frenzy of arms and boots and laugher.

Colt’s got his hands all over me. I’m dancing, laughing so hard my sides hurt because I don’t know the steps and I suck at learning them.

This is the best night of my life.

And to think, it’s going to be the first of many. Because I’m staying.

I’m in love. With Colt, yes, but also with his family and this bar, that band. This town.

Hartsville’s not the dead end I thought it’d be.

It’s turned out to be a beautiful new beginning.

CHAPTER 33

New Boots

COLT

I’m brushing down Big Brother after a morning working cattle with Dad and Beck when my phone dings.

Using my teeth to yank off my gloves, I pull the phone out of my back pocket. A cold front blew in overnight, and my breath fogs in the late morning air.

It’s an email notification. Squinting at the screen, I let out a yell. “Hot damn!”

Dad pokes his head out of the stall next to mine. “Everything all right?”

“Look!” I hold out the phone. “We just got our first inquiry from the new site.”

Dad pulls his glasses off his head. “You mean from the new website?”

“Yes! Looks like it’s a buyer out of Wyoming of all places. I’ve heard of the ranch—they raise Red Angus. Saw one of the quarter horses up for sale and is asking for more information.” I turn the phone back toward myself. “Damn, that was fast.”

Lainey launched the site a week ago. Pretty much everyone in the family contributed to the building process in some capacity, so we’ve had very few glitches since. Needless to say, we all have high hopes for it. But to get an inquiry about a five-figure horse this quickly is a big fucking deal.

Dad plucks the glasses off his nose and chuckles, using the edge of his jacket to clean the lenses. “Was I right about the website, or was I right about the website?”

I pull up my favorites tab and hit Lainey’s number, bringing the phone to my ear. “You were right about the website,” I tell Dad.

“I like knowing you can admit when you’re wrong.”

“Quality of a good leader,” I reply, tapping my foot as I wait for Lainey to pick up.

She does on the fourth ring. “Hey! Sorry, I was on a call with a gal who makes custom cowboy hats. Hattie’s Hat Emporium. How freaking cute is that?”

“Sounds like a fun project. How’d she find you?”

“Apparently your mom saw her at a pop-up recently in Benton and mentioned my name. She wants the whole shebang—social media strategy, logo, website, swag. I’m so excited.”

Can’t help but smile. I love it when my girl is happy.

I love that she’s thriving.

Mostly, I love that she’s here.

“We got a lot to celebrate tonight, then,” I reply. “Because I just got an inquiry from the website.”

“You didn’t!”