The morning sun was already high, casting long shadows as we sat atop our horses in a line, eyes fixed on the dense thicket ahead.
"You sure they're in there, Kayce?" I asked, shooting him a doubtful look.
"They're in there," he nodded, expression set. "I can smell 'em."
Lloyd adjusted his hat, eyeing the brush warily. "Horses'll get gored in that thick shit."
"Well, I'm not leaving a hundred grand worth of bulls in there," my father said firmly. "Send in the dogs."
At Rip's sharp whistle, the cattle dogs bolted forward, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Travis let out a scoff beside me. "Hey, Travis, why don't you come on over? We'll go for a ride, maybe chase some cows," he mimicked, shaking his head. "Don't recall you mentioning damn bulls."
I smirked, "Consider it a little payback for all the horse trading you've done over the years."
The hands erupted into laughter.
"Y'all think that's funny?" Travis shot them a glare, clearly unimpressed.
"Didn't think you were scared of anything," I teased, keeping a firm grip on my reins as my horse shifted beneath me, ears flicking toward the deep grunts coming from the brush.
"If this don't pucker your red eye, I don't think anything will," Lloyd chuckled, shaking his head.
Dad's voice cut through the tension. "Don't be a hero—turn 'em together!"
With that, we surged forward, following the dogs into the thick undergrowth, dodging low branches and weaving between trees as the bulls thrashed ahead of us. My horse moved instinctively, responding to the shift in weight as I guided him through the brush. We split off, Kayce and I driving the bulls toward the clearing.
"They are pissed!" I shouted over the chaos, shifting my horse to avoid a charging bull.
A sharp yelp cut through the air. My stomach dropped. One of the dogs.
Before I could react, Kayce was already tearing back into the thicket, lasso in hand. I turned my horse, ready to follow, but the dog came bolting out first, snapping at a bull's heels, doing his damn job despite the hit he must've taken.
Kayce's rope went taut around a bull's thick neck. The beast bucked violently, nearly yanking him clean off his saddle before he was forced to let go.
I clenched my jaw. My brother had never been reckless like this before. Something was different. And that worried me.
The cattle were all lined up, ready for their count and check-up. The heat from the sun pressed down on us, adding to the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. This wasn't where I wanted to be, but Dad made it clear—this was what I needed to focus on. The ranch needed me, and I couldn't afford to waste any more time. He'd given me a chance to prove myself, but now it was time to prove I could handle the weight of what he wanted me to become.
I glanced over at Kayce, who was off to the side with the cowboys, his attention on the cattle as they were ushered through the chute. I could almost feel the pull of the reins in my hands, the rush of chasing cows through the pasture. But no, today I was stuck with the vet, handing crates of meds to Jimmy, Colby, and Avery to haul over to the chute.
I gritted my teeth, knowing this was part of the game I had to play. This was my responsibility now. Dad had trusted me with more than just riding; he wanted me to learn the business side of things, to ensure everything ran smoothly. Still, it was hard to swallow when every part of me screamed to be on horseback, herding cattle with my brother.
Avery's face was one for the books when the vet handed her the bull ejaculator. It was priceless, her expression morphing from confusion to complete horror as she fumbled to figure out what to do with it. I couldn't help but laugh under my breath. Thank God I didn't have to deal with that today.
I handed another crate off to Colby, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand. The cattle weren't going to wait for me to get my act together, and neither was Dad. He'd made it clear, this wasn't just about riding anymore. It was about taking responsibility for the ranch in every way possible—even the parts that made me cringe.
I scrubbed my hands at least ten times, working hard to get the smell of cow and sweat off my skin. It wasn't enough for me to just rinse them. No, I needed to feel like I was starting fresh—clean, ready to sit down and take a break. But even then, as I finally wiped my hands dry, I still felt the weight of the ranch on me, in my bones.
I sat at the picnic table across from Ryan, watching him cut into his steak with too much force. His jaw was tight, his focus too intense. Something was off, but I wasn't about to push. Not yet, anyway.
"You okay?" I raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully.
"Yeah," he answered, but there was no warmth in his voice—none of that usual teasing spark that made me smile.
"You sure about that, cowboy? You cut any harder and you're gonna saw through your plate," I said, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't work. His jaw just clenched tighter, and he didn't say anything else.
I glanced around the table, trying to shake the feeling of tension that had settled over me like a storm cloud. Avery, sitting next to me, was talking to the older day worker across from her.
"What's your name again?" she asked him.
"Cowboy," he said, his voice dry.
I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "Your name's Cowboy?"
Colby, overhearing the exchange, laughed out loud. "Shit, we're all cowboys."
The older man looked at Colby, shaking his head. "The hell you are. And you..." He pointed to Jimmy, sitting across from him, "You ride a horse like a teenager fucks— bouncing up and down, eyes wide, surprised you're even doing it at all."
The insult was lighthearted enough, but it struck a nerve. Ryan stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the gravel beneath it. "Only cowboy thing I've seen you do is clean your plate. Stand up and tell me I can't cowboy."
The worker leaned into the challenge, his grin widening. "I didn't say you can't," he shot back, pointing to Colby. "I said he can't," he motioned to Jimmy. "And he sure as hell can't." Then, with a cocky chuckle, he added, "And you don't want me standing up, boy. I'll beat you like a rented mule."
The air thickened, the tension charging the space between us. Ryan's muscles tensed, eyes narrowing into slits as he stared the man down. The silence was deafening as everyone around the table held their breath. It felt like the air was crackling with impending violence, just waiting for someone to make the first move.
Before Ryan could say anything, Rip's gravelly voice cut through the tension like a knife. "There's one rule on this ranch, Cowboy," Rip said, standing up to his full height, his presence commanding the space. His eyes flicked toward Ryan, a slight challenge in his gaze. "You wanna fight someone, you fight me."
Ryan froze for a moment, the fire in his eyes still burning but now focused elsewhere. Rip wasn't just a ranch hand, he was the foreman. That made him the law when it came to these things. The unspoken enforcer of boundaries and respect, the kind of man who didn't back down—ever.
Rip's face hardened as he stared at Ryan. "Guess you forgot that rule, right?"
The worker stood there, the challenge now no longer as appealing. He looked at Rip, then at Ryan, and finally took a step back, the arrogance in his stance faltering just a little.
Ryan's eyes didn't leave Rip's, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. But in the end, neither of them said anything more, and the moment passed as quickly as it had arrived. The rest of us, still holding our breaths, exhaled in unison, feeling the weight of the moment lift.
Relieved the confrontation was over, the hands went back to eating, though the air still felt charged, the kind of tension that lingered even when the fight was over. Cowboy walked out to the pasture to sit with Walker who was strumming his guitar. I shook my head.
"That what was bothering you?" I rested my hand on Ryan's forearm when he sat back down across from me. "Being shown up by an old Cowboy?"
He shook his head, but there was still a trace of frustration in his eyes. "You were almost gored by a bull this morning."
"But I wasn't," I reminded him, my tone softer, trying to reassure him.
"I just think it's too dangerous for you out there." His voice held an edge now, the concern for me bleeding through.
I narrowed my eyes at him, not sure whether to be frustrated or understanding. "And it's not for you? You were even deeper in the thick of all of it."
Ryan shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's different for me, 'cause I—"
"'Cause you're a man?" I cut him off, my voice sharp, though there was no malice behind it. "Having a dick doesn't make you immune to bad shit happening."
His eyes softened, and he exhaled a heavy breath, realizing how his words had come across. "I didn't mean that, baby," he said, his voice gentler now, a hint of regret slipping in. "Shit. I just... I don't want to see you get hurt."
I could feel the weight of his concern, the love wrapped up in his words, even if it came out the wrong way. I squeezed his arm, leaning in closer. "Ryan, I know you're trying to protect me, but I'm not some delicate flower that needs sheltering." I held his gaze, trying to make him understand. "I know the risks. I'm choosing this. It's who I am."
He nodded slowly, still looking at me with that protective fire in his eyes. "I know you are," he said, his voice quiet now. "But just... don't make me watch you get hurt again, okay?"
"I won't," I promised him, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. "I'll be careful. But you need to trust me, Ryan."
The silence between us hung heavy for a moment, the weight of our unspoken feelings lingering in the air. Ryan finally smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes entirely. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"
I smirked. "I thought that was your job."
He chuckled, that old warmth returning to his voice. "I guess it is. But still... just... be safe, okay?"
"Always," I whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, letting him feel the reassurance in my touch.
—-
"You playin'?" Colby asked, glancing up from the table when I stepped into the bunkhouse.
"You cleaned me out last night," I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll pass."
"Then you can be my good luck charm," Ryan said with a grin, pulling me down into his lap. I raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at the cards in his hand.
"With cards like that, you need all the luck you can get," I teased, a smirk tugging at my lips as I surveyed his hand. "You sure you're not bluffing with that royal flush?"
Ryan shot me a playful glare. "Maybe, but lucky for you, I've got you now," he said, squeezing me gently.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile that pulled at my lips. "I think you might be more focused on me than the game, cowboy."
"Maybe," he admitted, his hands subtly shifting me in his lap. "But I'm winning, so it's clearly working."
Colby chuckled from across the table, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Yeah, Ryan's the type to blame the cards when he's losing. Let's see how much luck he gets now that you're sitting in his lap."
I smirked at Colby's jab and leaned back into Ryan's chest, the warmth of his body grounding me. "Just make sure to win something this time, okay?" I teased.
Ryan grinned, holding up his cards. "Watch and learn, sweetheart. I'm about to make a comeback."
"Well, if you do, I'll take some of that luck you're offering," I quipped, settling in comfortably.
"It's Saturday night, and this is all we're gonna do?" Avery scoffed, arms crossed as she looked around the bunkhouse. Her gaze landed on Ryan, and she let out an exaggerated sigh. "Jesus! Is it just the one set of testicles y'all share?"
Laughter rippled through the room, but Cowboy's deep chuckle cut through it. "Besides the pair I'm wearing, she's got the only set of balls in this bunkhouse," he said, nodding toward Avery. "When I was your age, I wasn't sitting around playing cards. I was in the arena playing real poker. Cowboy poker."
Jimmy's brow furrowed. "Sorry, what's cowboy poker?"
Colby didn't even let Cowboy answer before shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, Jimmy. You're not doing it."
Cowboy smirked, then started clucking like a damn hen.
Ryan let out a slow breath, patted my hip, and stood.
I blinked. "You're not serious?"
"Pride, baby," he said with a lazy grin before heading toward the door.
I sighed and followed, shaking my head as they hauled a card table into the middle of the arena, setting up chairs like they weren't about to do something incredibly stupid.
"Don't let your pride get you killed," I called out as I leaned against the fence, arms crossed.
Ryan, Colby, Jimmy, Cowboy, and Avery piled their money into the center of the table and gripped the edges of their chairs. The heavy snorts of the bull inside the chute made my stomach twist.
"Someone want to explain the rules?" Jimmy asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Last one at the table takes the pot," Ryan smirked.
The bull thrashed against the gate, hooves slamming into the metal bars as Jake reached for the latch.
"Y'all are fucking stupid," I muttered, watching from the fence.
Colby took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey they'd passed around before setting it down with a thud. He shot me a smirk. "You sure you don't wanna come sit in his lap for luck?"
I scoffed. "I'm good over here, thanks."
Lloyd chuckled, "Jake, let her rip."
The gate swung open, and the bull came charging out like a bat out of hell. Colby barely gave it two seconds before yelling, "Fuck that!" and hauling ass, diving over the fence.
The rest held their ground—until the bull lowered its head and plowed toward the table. Chaos erupted as chairs flew back, boots scrambled against the dirt, and suddenly, there wasn't a single cowboy still sitting—except Avery.
She gritted her teeth, knuckles white against the edges of the table, holding on as the bull charged past her. The sheer force knocked her clean out of the chair, sending her tumbling into the dirt.
My adrenaline surged, my heart hammering in my chest as I pushed off the fence and rushed toward Ryan, hands instinctively patting his jacket, making sure he was in one piece.
Then, the emotions crashed into me all at once—fear, relief, excitement. Before I even thought about it, I shoved him hard, fingers curling into the worn fabric of his jacket as I yanked him toward me. My lips crashed against his, claiming him in a way that was more instinct than thought.
When I finally pulled back, breathless, I locked eyes with him, my grip still tight on his jacket. "Don't do stupid shit like that again."
"If you're gonna kiss me like that," Ryan chuckled, still breathless from the rush, "I might have to think of all kinds of stupid shit to do."
The adrenaline was still buzzing in our veins, the energy electric as we put distance between ourselves and the bull. Laughter rang out as boots crunched over dirt, the wild thrill of the game still lingering. Avery wiped dust from her jeans and grabbed the whiskey bottle, taking a long swig before shoving out her hand.
"Give me my money."
Cowboy sighed, pulling the pot from his pocket and slapping the cash into her palm. "You're a crazy little shit, you know that?"
"And a hundred bucks richer." Avery grinned, tucking the cash into her jacket.
The moment of victory was short-lived. The heavy stomp of boots had us all turning as Rip stormed toward us, eyes dark with irritation.
"What the hell are you dipshits doing?!"
"It's a Saturday," Jimmy called back, trying to sound casual.
Rip's glare could've cut steel. "I know what fucking day it is, Jimmy," he snapped. "Y'all wanna get drunk, go to the fucking bar, and leave that goddamn bull alone before one of you gets killed."
No one argued. We knew better.
As we made our way toward the trucks, I glanced back, catching a rare sight—Rip chuckling under his breath.
—-
The bar glowed with neon, the air thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap beer. Country music twanged from the jukebox, drowning out the low hum of conversation and the occasional break of pool balls. It was the kind of place where the floor stuck to your boots, and the whiskey burned like hellfire.
Ryan and Colby headed straight for the pool table, setting up a game.
"I'm gonna grab a drink," I said, watching as Ryan lined up a shot. "Y'all want anything?"
"Thought you said you were out of money?" Colby smirked, leaning on his cue stick.
I shot him a grin. "I'm all out of cash. I do, however, have my daddy's gold card."
Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "Beer."
I weaved my way through the crowd, slipping up to the bar. "Can I get a couple long necks? And a White Russian?" I asked the bartender. My gaze drifted down the bar, landing on Jimmy, who was struggling to get anyone's attention.
"Put his beer on my tab too," I added.
The bartender nodded, reaching for the bottles. Jimmy shot me a grateful look.
"Don't say I never did anything for you," I teased, tossing a smirk his way as I grabbed the drinks.
Tonight was just getting started.
My eyes lingered, trailing over Ryan as he leaned over the pool table, lining up his shot. The way his shirt stretched across his back, the flex of his arms—yeah, I was definitely enjoying the view.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asked, catching me staring as he straightened up, cue stick resting against his shoulder.
I smirked, handing him his beer. "Watching a sexy cowboy."
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he took a sip. "That so?"
I took a slow drink from my own cup, the burn of liquor coating my throat. It was strong—stronger than I expected—but it did the trick, warming me from the inside out.
Ryan watched me over the rim of his bottle, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "Careful, baby. Keep looking at me like that, and I'll forget about this game altogether."
"I can't help but look at you like this," I murmured, letting my fingers trail slowly up his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. "You're gorgeous."
Ryan's grin widened, but before he could respond, Colby let out a loud groan from across the table.
"Cut her off," he joked, shaking his head. "I think she's had too much to drink."
Ryan chuckled, setting his beer down before lining up his next shot. "Jealous, Colby?"
"Jealous of what? Watching you two make goo-goo eyes at each other all night? No thanks," Colby scoffed. "Now hurry up and take your damn shot before I die of old age."
Ryan shot me a wink before sinking the ball in one clean move, barely even looking at the table. "There. Now you can stop whining."
The sharp crash of glass breaking behind me barely registered before the chaos erupted. Bar stools scraped against the floor, shouts rang out, and fists started flying. Some guy must've said something, and—of course—Jimmy had mouthed off.
Before I could even react, I was jostled by the surge of bodies, and then—crack—an elbow caught me right in the face. Pain flared across my cheekbone.
"Watch it, asshole!" I snapped, shoving the guy away from me.
He turned, eyes wild, fist already cocked back, ready to swing. Before I could dodge, Ryan was there in an instant, shoving the guy hard enough to send him stumbling back into a table.
"You wanna throw hands?" Ryan growled, stepping in front of me, his jaw clenched tight. "Try me."
The tension hung thick in the air, every muscle in Ryan's body coiled like a spring, ready to explode. The guy hesitated, eyes darting between Ryan and the rest of our crew, we thought for a moment we must have him outnumbered, pride kept him standing his ground.
But the guy wasn't alone. His buddies were just as mean and just as drunk, and before we knew it, fists were flying, bottles were shattering, and chairs scraped against the floor as the whole bar turned into a battleground.
I ducked as a bottle whizzed past my head, crashing into the wall behind me. Ryan landed a solid punch on one guy, sending him sprawling, but another came at him from the side. Jimmy wasn't faring much better—he was swinging wild, more likely to hit air than anyone else.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Colby shouted, dodging a right hook and grabbing my arm.
Ryan's knuckles were bloody, his breath coming fast. He grabbed my waist, pulling me toward the exit as we pushed through the chaos. The neon lights outside hit us like a slap, the cold air a stark contrast to the heat of the fight.
I sank into the backseat of the truck, heart still hammering from the chaos we'd just escaped. "Move your ass," I hissed, ushering the others in as I pressed my fingers to my throbbing cheek. The stinging pain was a sharp reminder of the brawl we'd just barely walked away from.
The ride back was quiet except for the occasional groan, the adrenaline wearing off and the pain settling in. Under the dim glow of the truck's dashboard lights, I glanced around. We were all bloody and bruised, knuckles split, lips busted. It looked like we'd gone to war.
Back at the bunkhouse, we gathered around the table, the regret sinking in the second Lloyd walked in and tossed bags of frozen vegetables at us.
"This is why you shouldn't go to bars without me," Lloyd grumbled, shaking his head as he took in the sorry state of us.
I turned toward Ryan, my fingers tracing the purpling bruise along his cheek before I gently pressed a bag of frozen peas against it. "Hold this," I murmured. He winced but didn't pull away.
The door swung open, and Kayce strolled in. His sharp eyes flicked over each of us, taking in the cuts and bruises before landing on the mark across my face. His expression darkened in an instant.
"What the fuck happened?" His voice was low, dangerous.
Ryan sat up straighter, already knowing that tone meant trouble. I sighed, pressing my palm against my aching temple.
"Long story short?" I muttered. "Jimmy mouthed off, fists started flying, and now we're home with an assortment of frozen vegetables."
Kayce's jaw clenched. "You could've gotten seriously hurt."
"I didn't," I shot back. "I can handle myself."
His eyes flicked to Ryan, narrowing. "And you let her get hit?"
Ryan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't let anything happen, Kayce. I was too busy making sure she didn't get worse."
The tension between them thickened, heavy and unspoken. I sighed, already tired, and tossed the bag of peas at Kayce.
"You wanna fight someone, go punch the bull in the arena."
That got a smirk out of Lloyd, at least.
"Get in the truck. All of you." Kayce's voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.
I exchanged a glance with Ryan, who gave me a slight shake of his head, but I knew better than to argue when Kayce was in this kind of mood. One by one, we climbed into the truck, the tension thick in the air as we waited.
Kayce stormed off to find Rip, and it wasn't long before they were loading a trailer. My stomach knotted as realization hit.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered as Kayce backed the trailer up to the bar's entrance.
Ryan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I've seen some payback in my day, but this?"
Kayce jumped out, his expression unreadable as he stalked toward the back of the trailer. With one swift motion, he pulled the latch and threw the gate open.
The bull charged out, a snorting, stomping force of rage, and crashed through the bar's open doorway.
Inside, chaos erupted instantly. Shouts and screams filled the air, followed by the sound of chairs scraping and bottles smashing. People scrambled over each other in their rush to escape, some diving out of windows, others tripping over themselves in their panic.
"Stay behind me," Ryan said, stepping forward.
"No way in hell," I said, resting my brother's Louisville slugger over my shoulder.
The rest of the guys squared their shoulders, waiting as the dust settled. It didn't take long before Jimmy pointed out the bastards who had jumped us.
One by one, they stumbled out of the bar, faces twisted in confusion and terror—until they spotted us.
They didn't get a chance to react before fists were flying again. Kayce and Rip added to the mix balancing the scales in our favor.
My heart hammered as I swung my bat hard cracking it in the gut of the fucker who hit me in the face. Ryan landed a solid punch that sent one of the assholes to the ground. Colby tackled another, and Jimmy—who had started this whole mess—finally got a decent hit in of his own.
When it was over, we stood over our battered opponents, breathing hard. Kayce turned to me, expression still dark.
"Now it's settled." He nodded toward the truck. "Get in."
As we climbed back inside, after loading the bull back in the trailer, I glanced at Ryan, his lip split open again, but a cocky grin on his face.
"Remind me not to piss your brother off," he muttered.
I smirked, shaking my head. "Smartest thing you've said all night."
