Page 46 of The Wrangler and the Tenderfoot

Everyone drank. Ash let out a war whoop. Midge tore a roll in half and started debating the correct way to build a sandwich from the table’s offerings. I got a scoop of every side and dug in.

It wasn’t formal in any way. Everyone talked at the same time. No one waited for seconds. Sloane fielded two calls while finishing her plate, Ash shotgunned the whiskey and switched to sweet tea, Tess hovered at the edge of the conversation, eating fast.

Midge finished her second sandwich and said, “So, Jennie. You ever two-step, or are you a free-range type?”

I wiped my hands. “If I say yes, do I have to prove it?”

“That depends,” Ash said, “on whether you’re any good.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “It’s not a contest.”

“Says you,” Ash fired back.

Tess drained her water. “I bet she is.”

Midge grinned. “That’s it, then. Showdown tonight. Girls’ night.” Midge had decided.

Calder groaned. Sloane looked pained but resigned. Ash high-fived Midge, then reached over and high-fived me before I had time to dodge.

Reid went very still in the particular way that meant he was deciding whether to say something. He looked at Calder. Calder looked at his plate.

Tess set her fork down and said, “I’m in,” with a little more steel than I expected.

I caught Sloane’s eye, waiting for her to beg off. She didn’t. “Fine,” she said. “But we take my truck.”

Midge tapped the table for attention. “That’s four to zero, city mouse. You’re coming whether you like it or not.”

I grinned, shrugged, and said, “I can’t refuse the democratic process.”

Ash wiped her mouth and pointed at me. “This is going to be legendary.”

It was Reid who finally said what he'd been not saying for the past two minutes. "You know the Colemans drink at the Showdown." Not a question.

"So does half the county," Ash said. "That's what makes it a bar."

He looked at me. "You don't have to go."

"She voted," Midge said, without looking up from the leftovers she was wrapping. "Four to zero. The democratic process is closed."

"There are three men on that ranch right now who'd use any excuse—"

Sloane set her napkin on the table. "Reid." Just his name, flat and even, but it covered the whole argument.

Ash leaned across the table. "She survived two weeks at the Coleman place without backup. I think she can manage a Monday night in Hollow Ridge."

He wasn't happy about it. I could see it in the set of his jaw, the way his hands had gone still on the table. He was running the math on some version of this conversation where he came out ahead. He didn't find one.

Calder stood, pushed his chair back, and set a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Come on," he said. "These ladies can take care of themselves. Let's go get a beer in the bunkhouse."

Reid looked at me. There was a whole argument in it he'd already lost.

"I'll text you," I said.

He held my gaze for one more beat, then went.

Midge watched the door close. "Well," she said, with the satisfaction of someone who has managed difficult animals her whole life. "He's going to be fun to break in."

"Give him time," Ash said.