Page 162 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“Dalton,” I shouted, my voice bouncing off the walls of the new barn’s tack room. The girls had taken over—or rather, demanded—the house for the morning, claiming they had way more to do to get ready than we did. Apparently, putting on fancy pants and a shirt with a tie was nothing compared to whatever the hell they had going on in there.

Which left us here, sweating our asses off in July heat, trying to get dressed while the barn practically baked us.

“Where the fuck is he?” I asked Gatlin, who was struggling with his tie like it was some kind of wild animal. Dad stood behind him, muttering as he tried to get it on properly.

“How the hell is he late today of all days?”

Dad sighed, adjusting Gatlin’s tie with a patience I sure as hell didn’t have. “He’s been performing well last season on the circuit.”

He had. Really well. It was surprising because Dalton was always getting in trouble. He was always fucking up somehow, but the past year, he’d been doing damn well.

He had damn near taken the million-dollar bonus, but came in second at the championships near Dallas. We’d all gone to cheer him on, and even though he didn’t take the title, Kline’s bull had been named the number one bull of the year.

It had been a long year, for all of us.

With Kline’s help, I’d gotten two little baby bulls, some of the best genetics he’d sold me, working my way toward getting my own championship bull stock. I was still helping Kline out full-time at the barn, and Fable? She’d been busy as hell, because last season had been Kline’s most successful ever.

Funny how life worked.

I’d spent years worrying about relationships, about how I’d be gone every weekend, how it wouldn’t be fair to someone else. Yet I retired, and Fable became the one traveling most weekends.

Not that I was complaining.

Hell, I still loved the circuit, so half the time, I went with her. The organization had asked me to coach for the summer team season, which I’d agreed to—with one exception.

I got this weekend off because it was the most important day of my life.

I was getting married.

I let out a breath and ran my hand down the front of my shirt, shaking off the last bit of nerves as I stepped out of the barn.

The most perfect wedding setup spread out before me, straight out of something I never would’ve dreamed up myself.

The big oak tree in the back, its thick branches stretched wide, offering shade beneath it. Nestled beneath it was the floral arch where we’d be getting married in a few hours.

Damn.

It was covered in the most vibrant, colorful flowers, a stark contrast against the deep green of the fields behind it. Beyond the arch, the pasture stretched wide, Kline’s bulls grazing lazily.

“Damn,” Dad murmured beside me. “Your mama would’ve loved to be here.”

I smiled sadly, my throat thick. “She would’ve loved Fable.”

Dad nodded, his gaze still fixed on the setup ahead, his jaw working slightly like he was holding something back.

He clapped a firm hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, nodding as I looked back at him.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Dad and I stood there for a long moment, watching the way the light soaked the fields.

Our relationship had changed over the last year—not overnight but in the small, quiet moments. He was still coaching Dalton, still in the thick of the circuit life, but he made time to check in with me. I’d learned to meet him halfway, to stop carrying the weight of the past like it was something I had to hold onto forever.

The barn door creaked open, and Gatlin stepped out, still messing with his tie like it was trying to strangle him. “Dalton’s on his way,” he said, adjusting the knot one last time.

I nodded, but I barely registered what he said.