The barn was quiet when we got there, the kind of silence that sat heavy in the air. No one said much, but we all felt it—the weight of last night still pressing down on us. The fight. Lloyd. Walker. The kind of shit that didn't just disappear come morning.

Lloyd had always been a fixture on the ranch, as much a part of it as the fences and the land itself. I couldn't remember a time when he wasn't here. He'd taught most of us what we knew, been the steady hand when things got rough. But last night, he'd crossed a line. He let his pride take the reins, let something dark fester until it finally boiled over.

And I wasn't even sure anymore if it was about Laramie. Maybe it had been at first. Maybe she made him feel like he wasn't just some old relic left out in the sun too long. Like he still had something to prove. But now? Now it felt like something else. Something bigger.

Walker wasn't innocent either. He never had been. But Kayce had given him a second chance, one that most cowboys who'd seen what happened on this ranch didn't get. That alone made some of us uneasy.

I glanced at Ryan, then Colby. No one spoke. Just the sound of horses shifting in their stalls, the creak of the barn settling around us. We had work to do.

We led our horses from their stalls in silence, the usual morning chatter replaced by an unspoken agreement to keep to ourselves. Saddles creaked, hooves shuffled against the dirt, and the steady rhythm of routine took over, but it didn't feel the same.

The kid—new and eager, still trying to carve out a place for himself—scurried around, looking for something, anything, to do. I could see the uncertainty in the way he hovered, watching us for cues, waiting for someone to tell him where he fit in. But no one did. Not today.

I'd teach him if I could. Hell, on any other day, I probably would've given him something to do, shown him the ropes like someone once did for me. But right now, I didn't have it in me. Not when the weight of last night still sat heavy on my chest, pressing down like a bad omen.

So I tightened my cinch, adjusted my reins, and swung into the saddle without a word. Let the work pull me forward, hoping maybe, just maybe, it'd lighten the load.

I lined up with the rest of the hands at the edge of the arena, waiting for Rip to give direction. The air was thick with dust and something heavier—something that had nothing to do with cattle or work. I watched as Lloyd loaded panels in the ring, his usual quiet authority stripped away. He was the low man now.

"You alright, baby?" Ryan's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I nodded. "Not seeing stars anymore, if that's what you're askin'."

"That, and I've never seen you go so long without talking," he said, studying me.

"Sometimes it's okay to just be silent, I guess," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Ryan tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp with understanding. "Don't stay trapped in your head too long, baby," he warned.

Before I could say anything back, Dad rode up. "You got me something saddled?" he asked Rip, stretching his legs like he was already preparing to be in the saddle.

"We're just rounding up the two-year-olds," Rip told him. "We'll be back in a half hour. Then the real fun begins."

Dad chuckled, swinging easily onto his horse. "I ain't lookin' to break any colts. This is the only fun I get to have."

And just like that, he rode out ahead of us, leaving nothing but hoofbeats and his usual no-nonsense energy in his wake.

The sight of wild horses—or as close to wild as they could be—galloping through the pasture lifted my spirits in a way nothing else could. Their manes and tails streamed behind them, muscles rippling beneath sun-warmed coats as they moved like ghosts across the land.

I couldn't help myself. They were beautiful, majestic—everything that made this place feel alive.

Kicking my horse into a faster pace, I rode alongside them, the thundering of hooves pounding in my chest. The wind whipped through my hair, and for a moment, I wasn't just another ranch hand. I was part of the stampede, running wild and untamed.

As we funneled them toward the arena, a sharp whistle from Rip signaled the next step. The work wasn't done, but damn if this wasn't the kind of work that made me feel free.

"All right, Jake," Rip called out, rattling off our assignments. "You've got the sorrel filly with the bald face and four stockings. Ethan, you're on the bay colt—Blaze. Ryan, Colby, you'll take the buckskin filly and the dun colt. Walker, you're on the red roan with the blaze. And Alex, you've got the steel gray colt."

Dad's phone rang. He answered with a nod, his expression darkening. "Jesus. All right, we're on our way." He hung up and looked over at Ryan. "Let's go work for the state."

"What happened?" Ryan asked, already moving toward him.

Dad shook his head. "I don't even know how to explain."

As Ryan passed, I shot him a smirk. "Leaving all the real work for us, cowboy?"

"Gotta do my duty, baby," he said with a grin. "Don't fall off."

I smirked, adjusting my grip on the reins. "I never do."

Ryan chuckled as he jogged after Dad, leaving the rest of us with the colts.

"Alright, let's get to it," Rip called, and just like that, the moment was gone.

I turned my attention to the steel gray colt standing in the pen, ears flicking back and forth, watching me with wary eyes. He was a beauty, all muscle and raw potential, but there was fire in him too—a defiance I recognized all too well.

"Easy, boy," I murmured, stepping in slow. "Ain't nobody gonna hurt you."

The colt snorted, shifting his weight, testing me. The others were already working their horses, but I took my time. This wasn't about breaking. It was about earning trust.

I didn't have time to wonder what Dad and Ryan were walking into, but something about his tone stuck with me. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

The loud crash of the panel behind me sent a jolt through my spine. I snapped my head around just in time to see Walker hitting the dirt, his red roan kicking up dust as it bolted across the arena.

"You alright?" I called over, watching as he pulled himself up, brushing the grime off his jeans.

"Just a little buckaroo," he muttered, already moving to grab the reins and climb back on.

I shook my head, biting back a chuckle. Some men just didn't know when to take it slow. But what caught my attention next wasn't Walker—it was Lloyd, standing rigid, his cold stare locked onto him like a loaded gun.

That fight wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The last thing I wanted was to get caught between them again, so I turned my focus back to my own horse. The steel gray colt shifted beneath me as I tightened his cinch, his ears flicking back, testing me. I ran a steadying hand along his neck. "Easy, boy."

Taking the horn in one hand and the reins in the other, I slid my foot into the stirrup, applying just enough pressure to let him feel my weight. He tensed but didn't shy away. I took that as a good sign.

"That's it," I murmured, swinging my leg over.

He rocked beneath me, testing, debating whether or not he wanted to accept this arrangement. My hips moved with his uncertain sway, keeping my seat as I let him work through it.

"I'm in this for the long haul," I told him, my voice calm but firm. "You can make it easy on both of us if you just let it happen."

He snorted, ears twitching back toward me. A challenge. A test.

I grinned.

"Alright then," I whispered. "Let's dance."

I trotted the steel-gray colt over to Rip, giving him a confident nod. "I think this one's a keeper."

"Nicely done," Rip said, his approval gruff but genuine.

Swinging down, I gave the colt a final stroke along his sleek neck. "I'll let you figure out your place here alone." He'd earned it. Some horses needed space to settle in, just like some men.

Leaving him in the corral, I leaned against the fence, watching as Ethan worked with his bay. That horse wasn't making it easy, but Ethan? He had a way about him—calm, controlled, like he was speaking a language only the colt could hear. It was damn near poetry, the way he bent the horse's will without force, just patience.

"Alright, Ethan!" I called, tipping my hat.

"If you got bucked off, we'd have had Teeter get on there instead," Jake teased, smirking as he swung his leg over the fence.

"I think it's beer time," Mia chimed in, dusting off her jeans.

Teeter nodded. "It's beer o'clock, I think."

With that, we strolled back toward the barn, the weight of the day's work settling into our bones.

When we stepped into the bunkhouse, Ryan was already waiting, a case of beer cracked open on the table. He leaned back in his chair, smirking as he raised a bottle.

"How was your day, dear?" I teased, plucking a beer from the case.

"Pretty damn quiet compared to yours," he chuckled, watching me over the rim of his bottle. "Now, come on over here and tell me how you tamed that steel beast."

"Same way I tamed you," I shot back with a smirk. "With a roll of my hips."

Ryan's lips curled into that cocky grin I knew too well. "I'll have to remind you how not tame I am later."

"Promises, promises," I teased, tipping my beer back.

The bunkhouse had settled into an easy rhythm, everyone gathered around the TV, watching a rodeo event. The familiar twang of the announcer's voice filled the room as a rider lined up for his turn.

"Come on, Shad," Colby called out, leaning forward as the cowboy on the screen prepared to rope. "Y'all hurry the fuck up—you're gonna miss it!"

Ryan walked over, carrying an armload of beers. "That's your cousin?" he asked Colby as I took a few from him, passing them out like a good hostess.

"Yep," Colby nodded, eyes locked on the screen. "Come on, baby. Clean run, clean run."

I dropped onto the couch next to him, my gaze locked on the rider. There was something about rodeo—precision, adrenaline, the raw skill it took to bring an animal under control in seconds. Ryan settled behind me, perching on the back of the couch, his hands kneading my shoulders as he watched.

The rope snapped tight, the steer caught clean.

"That's how you do it!" I whooped, flashing Colby a smug grin. "Guess talent didn't make it that far down your branch of the family tree."

Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "Clearly, the ability to rope ain't hereditary."

"Man, fuck y'all," Colby laughed, shaking his head. "I can out-rope your fucking ass."

Ryan raised a brow. "In what fucking world can you out-rope me?"

"In any world. Literally any fucking planet," Colby declared. "Take me to outer space, and I'll out-rope you there too."

Jake snorted. "What kind of fucking roping are you gonna do in outer space?"

"He forgot about that little thing called gravity," I said, stifling a laugh.

"What the fuck are y'all talking about?" Teeter shouted from across the room. "Roping in fucking space?"

"He is," Jake pointed at Colby, shaking his head.

"That's fucking insane," Teeter scoffed.

Colby waved them off. "Just a buncha haters."

Ryan took a swig of his beer and gave me a look, then said to Colby, "I still can't believe you have the same DNA as that man."

—-

I slipped out of Ryan's bunk early. He rubbed his eyes looking up at me, "Where you going, baby?"

"Back to the house," I whispered.

Ryan reached for my hand, his fingers trailing lazily down my wrist. "You sure you don't wanna stay a little longer?" His voice was thick with sleep, low and rough in the quiet of the bunkhouse.

I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "I'd love to, but I think my dad's lonely," I whispered. "Kayce and Monica moved out, and Beth's staying in the foreman's house with Rip. He's in that big house all by himself."

Ryan sighed, rubbing his face before propping himself up on one elbow. "Guess that means I gotta let you go, huh?"

I smiled. "Just for today."

He smirked, pulling me down for one last kiss. "You better come back, baby."

I brushed my fingers through his hair. "You know I will."

I stopped at the bunkhouse door, glancing back at him as he settled back in his bed to sleep.

The cool Montana air cut through my jacket as I made my way back to the house, the chill biting at my skin and making me pull the fabric tighter around my shoulders. The sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen reached me before the smell did, but when it hit, I couldn't help but smile.

Gator was back.

"Morning, Miss Alex," he greeted, a wide smile spreading across his face as he flipped a pancake. "Breakfast'll be ready in a bit. Coffee's on the table."

I sighed with relief, the thought of a real meal after days of frozen pizza and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and whatever the fuck Teeter made was almost too much to bear. "I'm sure glad you're home," I said, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. "Been living on frozen pizza and PB for days."

He chuckled, shaking his head, his hands moving expertly around the kitchen as he worked. "You really need to let me know when I'm gone longer than a day or two, Miss Alex. Can't have you living like that."

"I know, I know," I said with a grin, stepping into the dining room. "It's just been a mess around here."

Gator just smiled, his calm demeanor enough to soothe the hectic energy I'd been carrying around with me. I moved to the dining room table and poured myself a cup of coffee, taking in the warmth of the room as it surrounded me. There was something about Gator's presence that felt like home.

"Morning, sweetheart," Dad said as he settled into his seat at the head of the table, his voice gruff but warm.

"Morning, Dad," I replied, from my seat beside him.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to the empty spot beside me. "Where's Ryan?" he asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity.

"Still in the bunkhouse," I told him with a slight smile. "I think you scare him."

"I should," Dad grinned, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous gleam. "I'm your father and his boss."

I chuckled, stirring my coffee. "I know. But you know I love him, so that should count for something."

Dad shook his head in amusement. "Loving cowboys ain't easy."

I smirked, meeting his eyes. "Loving me isn't easy either."

He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. "True. But that's part of the deal, isn't it?"

"It's what makes it all worthwhile," I said, leaning back in my chair. The conversation was easy, like it always was with Dad—no matter how complicated life seemed, there was always something comforting about these simple moments shared between us.

Beth slid into her seat across from me, opening her laptop with practiced ease after filling her coffee cup. Gator came in then, setting down a platter piled high with pancakes and crispy bacon.

"Do y'all need anything else?" Gator asked, his eyes flicking between us.

"No thank you," I beamed at him, my stomach already growling in anticipation. The breakfast spread in front of me was a thing of beauty—pancakes I could clearly identify, crispy bacon that smelled irresistible. I couldn't help it; I loaded my plate with the food, diving in before it even hit the surface.

"Not hungry?" Dad asked, glancing over at Beth as she stayed focused on her screen.

"No, I'm intermittent fasting," she said without looking up.

"What's that mean?" I asked, my mouth full of bacon.

"Uh… nothing but coffee and cigarettes 'til noon," she replied, shrugging. "And then I can eat whatever the hell I want until I start drinking at six."

Dad raised an eyebrow, clearly perplexed. "I'd like to meet the doctor that came up with that diet."

Beth didn't miss a beat. "I've adapted it to suit my lifestyle," she said, clicking away at her laptop with a smirk.

Dad shook his head, muttering under his breath as he dug into his food, clearly not understanding, but also not really caring to challenge her on it. I just rolled my eyes, stuffing another forkful of pancake in my mouth. It was way too early to be debating diets.

"What are you working on today?" Dad asked, his tone casual but his eyes never leaving the table.

"Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission on this one, Dad," Beth replied without missing a beat. "If you don't mind."

"I do mind," he said, his brow furrowing as he shot her a pointed look.

"I'm taking the job at Market Equities," she stated, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

I raised an eyebrow, not buying it. "How exactly is that supposed to help us?"

Beth didn't hesitate. "It'll help us when I run it into the fucking ground."

I sighed, knowing that tone. "What are y'all doing today?" she asked, brushing off the tension.

"Probably work with the two-year-olds some more," I said, keeping it simple. I figured what I did had little interest to her, but I didn't feel like getting into it.

Dad gave her a thoughtful look before responding, "I'm battling my conscience."

Beth smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I'd offer advice, Dad, but I've never been in that situation." She gave him a teasing look.

Dad chuckled at her response, shaking his head. "You're one of a kind."

"I gotta go," she said, standing up and grabbing her coffee cup. "Off to ruin lives."

"What kind of dilemma are you working through, Dad?" I asked, eyeing him over my coffee cup. "My conscience is still partially intact."

He let out a sigh, rubbing his temples. "One of those cattle protesters," he muttered. "She's a real piece of work."

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should show her how we do things here," I said, leaning back in my chair. "It's not cruelty, not in the way people like her think."

"That's what I was thinking," he replied, his tone still heavy with frustration. He stood up, pulling on his jacket. "Be careful out there. And tell Ryan to come see me later."

"OK, Dad," I said, nodding as I stood.

—-

I showered and changed quickly, the cool Montana air giving me a bit of a jolt as I headed back out to the arena. The sounds of hooves and voices carried in the wind, and when I rounded the corner, I could already see the hands working with the colts again.

Ryan was in the thick of it, sitting atop one hell of a rank son of a bitch. The horse twisted and bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off, but Ryan sat tall, his grip firm. I couldn't help but smile, shaking my head at the sight.

"You sure you wanna be doing that, cowboy?" I called out, half-amused and half-impressed, as I walked closer.

He shot me a grin, not even flinching when the horse bucked harder. "Better this than being stuck inside all day."

I laughed, watching as the colt fought every step of the way. "Guess you're a glutton for punishment."

"Someone's gotta keep the rest of these horses in check," Ryan said, his voice steady even as the horse twisted again, trying to buck him off.

I stood there for a moment, watching the struggle between man and beast. There was something about the way he moved, the way he controlled the horse, that made my chest tighten with admiration. It wasn't just skill; it was patience, determination—things that made him stand out even more in a place like this.

"Just don't break anything, cowboy," I called out, already knowing that even if I said it a thousand times, he wouldn't listen.

"Don't worry, baby," Ryan called back, a cocky grin on his face, "I've got this."

"It's all in the hips," I called over to him.

The struggle continued, but it was clear that he was going to win. As always.

"My dad wants to talk to you, by the way," I called as I headed back to my steel colt.

I couldn't help but grin as I heard Ryan's frustrated exhale. "Fuck," he muttered, still wrestling with the colt beneath him. I couldn't tell if he was more concerned about my father or the beast he was trying to ride.

"You'll live," I called over my shoulder, heading back toward my steel-gray colt, keeping my voice light. "Just, uh, try to not piss him off too much."

I could feel Ryan's gaze on me as I made my way back to the corral. He didn't need to say it aloud; I knew he'd rather be out here, fighting with the horses, than dealing with the serious conversations my dad always seemed to want to have.

The colt pawed the ground nervously as I approached, but I gave him a reassuring pat. "Easy now," I whispered, steadying him as I swung up into the saddle. He was strong, stubborn, but I knew him well enough to feel his hesitation. He'd settle in time.

I glanced back to see Ryan still fighting with the colt, his grip tightening as he gave another hard yank on the reins.

Ryan gave a half-laugh, clearly not in the mood for teasing, but the fight in him never faded. "Tell your dad I'm on my way in a minute," he called, focusing entirely on the animal beneath him.

I nodded, guiding my colt into a smooth trot, trying not to watch too closely as Ryan wrestled his mount into submission. I knew he'd get the job done, but I also knew that look on his face—whatever my dad wanted to talk about, Ryan wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

I just hoped it wasn't anything that'd keep him out of the saddle for long.

The Montana sky opened up, rain started pouring down. Can't break colts in the rain. Guess that left one option for Ryan, facing my father. I slid down from my mount, ushering him undercover to take his saddle off. I glanced back at Ryan who was still debating what he was gonna do next.

"I can go in there with you if you want," I told him when he finally gave up on the horse.

"I think this is a conversation I need to have with him alone, baby," he responded. "But you can walk me to the door."

I watched as Ryan hesitated for a moment, the rain pelting down around him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, frustration clear in the way his shoulders were tense. I knew he didn't want to face my dad, not after the way things had been between them. But I also knew he wouldn't back down. Not for anyone.

"Alright," I said, stepping toward him. "I'll walk you there. I'm not letting you face him in the rain, cowboy."

Ryan cracked a small smile, his eyes softening for just a moment. "You always take care of me," he said, his voice low but warm.

"You're a pain in my ass, but I don't mind," I replied, a hint of teasing in my tone.

We walked together through the barn and then to the house, the rain still coming down hard outside. The world felt quieter now, the storm closing in around us. I could tell he was steeling himself for whatever my father had in store, but I could also see that stubborn spark in him—he wasn't going to let anything break him.

I stopped at the door of the main house, watching him take a breath before he turned to face me.

"You'll be fine," I said, giving him a soft but reassuring look.

He nodded, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I'll be alright. Just... stay here, okay?"

"Always," I said with a smile, reaching up to touch his arm. "I'll be right here when you're done."

With a final glance, he pushed open the door and walked inside, leaving me standing on the porch, the rain soaking my jacket but doing little to cool the warmth in my chest. I wasn't sure what my dad had planned to say, but I knew Ryan would take it head-on. It was one of the things I loved most about him

I waited a beat before walking into the kitchen. I took off my wet jacket and hat and hung them up. I walked right into another unexpected conversation.

I stood frozen for a moment, staring at the scene unfolding in front of me. The kitchen felt too small suddenly, the air thick with tension and surprise. I had expected a quiet day, maybe some peace after the storm, but now, this?

Beth was holding a knife like a damn madwoman, pacing around the island, her eyes locked on the woman standing in nothing but my father's button-up shirt. The woman was holding her ground, her eyes just as fierce.

"Who the fuck are you?" Beth snapped, her voice full of venom.

The woman didn't flinch. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Beth, stop," I said, my voice more weary than anything. This wasn't how I wanted to spend my morning.

Beth wasn't having it, though. She picked up the knife from the counter, brandishing it as she circled the woman.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know he was married," the woman shouted as she backed away.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to process it all. And then it clicked. The protester. The one my father had mentioned. But I hadn't expected this. I hadn't expected her to be standing in my kitchen, half-naked, playing house with my dad.

Just as I was about to step in, my father strolled into the kitchen, looking unfazed.

"Here's a situation I couldn't have dreamed up in a month of Sundays," he muttered, glancing at both women. "These are my daughters," he motioned to Beth, then to me, "That one can be a little overprotective. Put the knife down, honey."

Beth wasn't having it, though. "Dad, if you're gonna hire a hooker, would you at least let me get you a good one?" she said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

I stared at her, feeling my blood run cold. "Beth," I said, my voice tight, trying to smooth things over.

"I do not have the energy for this," Dad said, his voice calm but resigned. "She's a guest in our house."

"I'm calling an Uber," the woman shot back, already pulling her phone from her pocket.

"I don't think so," I muttered under my breath, too stunned to do anything else.

The woman—what was her name?—turned to my father, her expression shifting to something less defensive. "Can you drive me into town?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "After I get dressed."

Dad looked at her for a long moment, then sighed heavily. "I'll drive you wherever you want to go in just a minute." He didn't seem bothered by it at all. If anything, he looked almost... satisfied?

She pulled my father into an aggressive kiss then turned and walked down the hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the house. Dad stood there, his face falling into a look of exhaustion.

"I'm too old for this shit," he muttered, rubbing his face. "I'm too old for her and I'm too old for that look y'all are giving me. I'm just too old for all of it."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "You weren't too old for some of it," I muttered under my breath.

Dad glared at me but didn't respond. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Y'all be nice to her," he said with a hint of finality. "She held a protest at the Livestock office, threw a rock at your brother, got thrown in jail, and I bailed her out for it."

I raised an eyebrow. "You didn't mention the rock throwing when you told me about the protester, Dad."

Beth smirked from the other side of the room. "Bet he also didn't mention he was bringing her home to fuck her," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Beth!" I shouted, the irritation now flooding my voice. I took a calming breath, "Dad?"

"What?" Dad responded, his tone sharp.

"Ryan's waiting for you in your office," I said, trying to get this mess over with.

Dad sighed again, clearly at his wit's end, and gave a quick nod. "Alright, I'll go handle this." He turned and walked toward the door, leaving Beth and I standing in the kitchen. I could still hear her laughter ringing in my ears, but it wasn't the kind of laughter that made me feel better. It was dark, cutting.

"Well, that was something," I muttered, finally sitting down at the table, feeling the weight of the morning settle on me.

"What's your cowboy doing here?" Beth asked turning the focus on me and not the woman half my father's age who just waltzed through our house like she fucking owned the place.

"Dad wanted to talk to him, not sure what about?" I sat down at the island.

Beth's gaze didn't leave the hallway, her tone as casual as ever. It was almost as if she was in on some joke that I wasn't a part of. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to know or if it was better to stay out of it. But, of course, curiosity gnawed at me.

"Don't worry about the cowboy. It's all part of the ritual."

"What ritual?" I asked, leaning forward just a little, trying to gauge her response.

Beth smirked, taking a sip from her coffee, her eyes twinkling with that knowing gleam. "It's better if I let you figure it out on your own," she replied cryptically.

I rolled my eyes, but it didn't stop the small knot of tension tightening in my chest. I wasn't sure if I was more annoyed by the lack of explanation or by the fact that she had such control over the situation. She could always manipulate the environment to her advantage, and in this moment, it seemed like she was just having fun watching me stumble through the confusion.

I glanced down the hall where my father had gone, briefly considering if I should follow him. But no, I didn't need to get caught in whatever mess he was dealing with—especially if it involved that woman. Instead, I focused on the more immediate question at hand.

"Is it too early to start drinking?" I asked, shifting the conversation away from whatever Beth was alluding to. The last thing I wanted was to dwell on the absurdity of it all.

Beth gave me a look, as if considering my question seriously, before grinning. "It's never too early," she said with a shrug, her tone as dry as the Montana air.

I let out a small laugh, though it didn't reach my eyes. The situation with my father and the protester was a lot to process, and I wasn't sure I was ready to face any of it. A drink might help clear my head—if only for a little while.

"Good," I said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey that was always conveniently within reach. As I poured the amber liquid into a glass, I found myself wondering what exactly was going on behind those closed doors with my father and Ryan. What kind of "ritual" was I walking into?

Beth's smirk didn't help ease my growing sense of unease, but at least the drink in my hand might numb it—for now.

"I've got a meeting," Beth said as she grabbed her purse, glancing back toward me with that mischievous smile of hers. "Make sure the hooker doesn't spend the night."

"They charge extra for that, right?" I couldn't help teasing her, the absurdity of the situation sinking in.

Beth laughed, a sharp, dry sound that echoed in the kitchen, before she turned and left without a second glance, disappearing out the door. I was left there with my whiskey and a head full of questions. The whole scene felt surreal, the tension hanging thick in the air like the scent of smoke after a wildfire. I was still processing my father's unexpected guest—and everything that came with her.

Just as I took a long sip of whiskey to chase away the unease creeping up my spine, I heard footsteps behind me. A familiar voice broke the silence.

"Hey," Ryan's voice was low and apologetic as he approached, "Sorry, didn't think that would take that long."

I sighed, setting my glass down on the bar with a clink. "Yeah, sorry we had a little drama that delayed your meeting," I muttered, the words coming out more bitter than I intended. I ran a hand through my hair, still trying to shake the image of my father's protester from my mind. "So, what's going on with you and my dad? Should I be worried?"

Ryan stepped closer, his arms sliding around me as he pulled me into his chest, warm and solid. "No, baby," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "He gave me the keys to the trapper cabin. Thought you'd like to spend the night up there."

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. The trapper cabin? That was a place I hadn't thought about in years. It was tucked away, isolated—a place my dad only really offered to the people he trusted most.

"My father is so full of surprises today," I said with a chuckle, looking up at him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Ryan's warmth was comforting, but the situation still felt a little too surreal to fully digest.

Ryan smirked and kissed the top of my head. "Yeah, well, when he finally likes someone, he does it all in one go. Just don't take too long to get ready. We'll have to get going before the rain comes down harder."

I took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his presence sink in. Maybe the cabin would give me the space I needed to clear my head. Between my father's strange behavior and the tension in the air, a little peace and quiet didn't sound half bad.

"Well," I said after a beat, looking up at him with a mischievous grin, "I guess I can't pass up the chance for a night at the trapper cabin."

Ryan's eyes lit up with that same playful energy I loved. "Good," he said, squeezing me tighter before letting go. "Get ready, and we'll head out. I'll take care of everything else."

As he walked toward the door, I watched him go, still trying to wrap my head around everything. But one thing was clear—Ryan always knew how to make the chaos fade, even if just for a little while.

I raced up the steps, determined to avoid any further encounters with the mystery woman traipsing around my father's room. I didn't have the patience—or the stomach—to deal with whatever was going on in there. Instead, I slipped into my own room, shutting the door behind me with a sigh before heading straight to my dresser.

I pulled open the lingerie drawer, rifling through delicate lace and silk, searching for something Ryan hadn't seen before. Something special. A set I'd bought on a whim but never had the opportunity to wear. Tonight felt like the perfect time. My fingers brushed over the soft fabric, and I smirked to myself as I set it aside before packing the rest of my bag.

It didn't take long before I was ready. Slipping on my coat, I slung my bag over my shoulder and hurried back down the steps, excitement bubbling in my chest. The chaos inside the house faded into the background the moment I stepped onto the porch.

Ryan rode up just then, reins in one hand, his other resting easily on the saddle horn as he tugged my horse alongside him. The sight of him—completely at ease, one with the animal beneath him—made my breath catch for just a second. He belonged there, in the saddle, like he'd been born on the back of a horse.

The way he moved, the way his body adjusted effortlessly to every shift, every step—there was something about it that made me stop and stare. Almost in awe. Ryan had this quiet confidence, a natural grace that only came from years in the saddle. And damn if it didn't make my heart race a little faster.

He caught me watching, his lips tugging into a knowing smirk as he rode closer. "You ready, baby?" he asked, voice smooth and easy, like he didn't have a clue how good he looked up there.

I swallowed, forcing myself to snap out of it. "Yeah," I nodded, stepping down off the porch toward him. "More than ready."

We rode together up to the cabin, the quiet night wrapping around us like a familiar embrace. The only sounds were the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt trail and the occasional rustling of wind through the trees. It was a comfortable silence, the kind we'd settled into so easily over time. Sometimes, words weren't necessary—we just wanted to exist together, side by side, feeling the steady presence of the other.

I glanced over at Ryan, catching the way he looked at me with that easy, lopsided smile—the one that made my heart melt no matter how many times I saw it. The one that made me feel like I was the only thing in his world that mattered.

As we reached the cabin, he swung down first, his movements fluid and practiced. He turned to me, reaching up, his strong hands settling around my waist as he helped me down from the saddle. His grip lingered, his thumbs brushing against my sides in a slow, deliberate way that sent a shiver up my spine.

"Baby, I'll get the horses settled," he said, his voice low and warm. "You go on inside."

For a second, I stayed there, my hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath my palms. I thought about arguing, about insisting on helping, but the way he was looking at me—like he wanted me to go inside so he could take care of me—made me nod instead.

"Okay," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended.

He gave my waist a final squeeze before letting go, turning to lead the horses toward the small shelter beside the cabin. I watched him for a moment before stepping onto the porch, pushing open the door, and stepping inside. The warmth of the cabin greeted me instantly, and I took a deep breath, already feeling at home.

Tonight, it was just us.

I knelt by the fireplace, striking a match and touching the flame to the kindling. The fire crackled to life, casting a flickering glow across the cabin walls, chasing away the chill that lingered in the air. I stretched my hands toward the warmth, but it wasn't just the cold I was trying to shake.

Something about this felt different. Like maybe tonight wasn't just about us stealing a quiet moment away from the chaos of the ranch. Maybe it was about something more. Something unspoken.

I bit my lip, pushing the thought aside as I turned my gaze toward the door. The heavy wooden frame creaked as it swung open, and Ryan stepped inside, shaking the damp from his hat before setting it on the table. His eyes found mine instantly, dark and unreadable in the firelight.

I didn't say anything. Didn't press. I just watched as he locked the door behind him, toeing off his boots and shrugging out of his jacket. Whatever this was, I'd let him do it his way. However he needed.

Because this moment wasn't just about me—it was about him too.

I slid my arms around his waist, looking up at him. "Now you don't have to worry about my Dad across the hall or waking the boys up with your antics."

"My antics?" he smirked down at me, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, "If I recall it was you that climbed into my bunk."

"I'd do it again, in a fucking heartbeat," I stepped up on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Ryan's hands settled at my waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against my hips. "Good to know," he murmured against my lips before deepening the kiss, his smirk still lingering in the way he moved against me.

The fire crackled behind us, filling the cabin with its golden warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat simmering between us.

His fingers tightened at my waist as he pulled me flush against him, his voice low and teasing. "So, does this mean I get to be as loud as I want tonight?"

I let out a soft laugh, sliding my hands up his chest. "I think you earned that right."

"Damn right, I did," he growled before lifting me off my feet, carrying me straight toward the bed.

I felt his hands roaming my body as his lips pressed against mine. I pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss, I murmured, "Hold that thought." And wiggled myself out from under him. "I'll be right back."

He chuckled and rolled to his back as I made my way the bathroom, bag in tow.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, my hair stuck to the side of my face from the rain. I wasn't prepared in the slightest for a wild romantic night. I looked at the door, he was. And he wanted me, wet hair and all.

I slipped out of my jeans and top, then changed into the sheer pink nightie I'd brought with matching cheeky boy shorts. I adjusted my boobs and looked at myself again.

Better.

I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands over the soft fabric before running my fingers through my damp hair, trying to make it look at least somewhat intentional. Not that it mattered. The way Ryan looked at me, I could've walked out there in an old t-shirt, and he'd still want me just the same.

Still, this was different.

I turned toward the door, my pulse picking up as I reached for the handle.

The moment I stepped back into the room, Ryan propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze raking over me in slow appreciation. His easy smirk faded, replaced with something darker, hungrier.

"Jesus, baby," he murmured, sitting up fully. "You tryin' to kill me?"

I smiled, feeling a little bolder under his heated stare. "That depends," I teased, taking a slow step closer. "Is it working?"

Ryan didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached for me, his hands finding my hips as he pulled me onto the bed with him. His voice was rough as he whispered against my skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me."

"Show me," I whispered, my fingers tracing the hard lines of his arms as we shifted further onto the bed.

Ryan hovered over me, his gaze roaming over every inch of me, dark and intent. The heat in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine, anticipation curling in my stomach.

"I plan on it," he murmured against my lips before claiming them again, the kiss deep and consuming. His hands skimmed over the soft fabric of my nightgown, teasing, exploring, until he cupped my breast in his palm. His thumb brushed over my nipple in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing it to a hardened peak.

A breathy moan slipped from my lips as my back arched instinctively, pressing myself into his touch, silently pleading for more.

His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, his voice rough with need. "I love the sounds you make, baby."

The slow grind of his hips against mine sent a fresh wave of heat through me, the hard press of him unmistakable even through the denim of his jeans. The friction of the rough fabric against my aching core pulled another moan from my lips, my fingers tightening in his hair as he kissed along my jaw, his breath hot against my skin.

His mouth trailed lower, finding the sensitive spot at the base of my throat, then lower still. He flicked his tongue over my nipple through the sheer fabric of my nightgown, teasing until I whimpered beneath him. His lips curved against my skin before he worked his way further down, each kiss deliberate, each touch a promise.

When he reached the hem of my nightgown, he pushed it up with agonizing slowness, exposing the bare skin of my stomach. His mouth followed the path of his hands, lips and tongue tasting and teasing, lingering just above the waistband of my panties. My breath hitched, anticipation curling deep in my belly as his fingers traced the lace, his warm breath fanning over my skin.

His fingers traced lazy circles over the satin and lace, his touch featherlight yet devastating. "So pretty," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Almost don't want to take them off you." His smirk was wicked as he pressed a lingering kiss to my inner thigh, his stubble scraping deliciously against my sensitive skin.

"Ryan," I whimpered, my breath catching as I lifted my hips, seeking more, needing more.

He chuckled, low and knowing, his hands firm on my hips, holding me in place. "Patience, baby," he teased, his lips following the curve of my thigh, his fingers slipping just beneath the delicate lace, promising and torturous all at once.

"Stop teasing me," I groaned.

"You know I'm gonna take care of you," he smirked against my skin. His fingers slipped further, finally touching my bare skin with the lightest of touches. He chuckled softly as I squirmed under him, needing more.

"Please…" I looked down at him, my fingers curing in his hair. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the delicate lace gave way under his grip, the sound of tearing fabric making my pulse race. My fingers curled tighter in his hair as his mouth found me, his tongue gliding over my most sensitive spot with a slow, deliberate stroke. The groan that rumbled from his chest sent a shiver through me, the vibration only adding to the pleasure building inside me.

"Fuck, Ryan," I breathed, my back arching off the bed as he gripped my thighs, holding me exactly where he wanted me. He didn't rush—he never did. He savored every moment, every reaction, teasing and worshiping until I was trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His fingers dug into my flesh pulling me tighter to him as he buried his face deeper between my thighs. My head rolled back, my eyes squeezed shut as I felt the rush of pleasure rippling through me. My juices coated his lips and tongue as he devoured me.

I felt his eyes on me, watching as I gave myself over to the intensity of his touch, his tongue. He waited until I was starting to reach a second peak before he kissed his way back up my body. I was still trembling beneath him when his lips grazed my neck, "I got you, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His body pressed against mine, his heat searing into me as he nipped at the sensitive skin of my neck. My breath hitched when his hand trailed down my side, his touch grounding me even as my body still trembled from the aftershocks of pleasure.

I reached for him, fingers fumbling at his belt, desperate to feel more of him, to close the distance between us. He caught my wrist, pinning it above my head as his lips brushed over mine. "Not yet," he smirked, his breath hot against my lips. "I wanna take my time with you."

A frustrated whimper left me, and he chuckled, rolling his hips against mine, letting me feel just how much he was holding back. "Patience, baby," he murmured, before capturing my lips in a kiss that stole the last of my restraint.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, the cool metal of his belt pressing into my stomach as I rolled my hips. The friction sent another ripple through me.

"Please, take your pants off," I pleaded, "I want to feel you. You're making me crazy."

Ryan groaned, his restraint hanging by a thread as he pressed his forehead against mine. "You're already crazy, baby," he teased, his voice low and thick with hunger. But even as he said it, his hands moved to his belt, the metal buckle clinking as he unfastened it.

I bit my lip, watching as he slid his jeans down, kicking them off along with his boxers. My breath hitched as he settled back over me, his warmth, his hardness pressing right where I needed him most.

"Better?" he asked, his lips ghosting over mine.

I answered by rolling my hips again, a desperate little whimper escaping my lips. "Much."

"Glad to accommodate you," he responded with a hard thrust, rolling his hips so he was buried to the hilt, letting out a loud groan, as my walls tightened around him.

I gasped, my fingers clawing at his back as he stretched me, filled me completely. My body arched into his, desperate to take him even deeper.

"Ryan," I moaned, my breath coming in shaky pants. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider as he set a slow, deep rhythm that had me seeing stars.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his lips tracing the curve of my jaw before capturing my mouth in a heated kiss. His pace quickened, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through me, pushing me higher, closer to the edge.

I broke the kiss, my head falling back against the pillow. "Don't stop," I begged, my nails raking down his back, leaving marks he'd wear for days.

"Not a chance," he growled, driving into me harder, deeper, until the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, and I shattered beneath him with a loud cry. His body tensed above me, his grip on my hips tightening as he buried himself deep one last time. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips as he spilled into me, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

I held onto him, my fingers tracing the damp skin of his back as we both caught our breath. His forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my lips as he pressed a lazy, lingering kiss there.

"Damn," he muttered with a breathless chuckle, rolling to the side and pulling me with him. "Every fucking time I'm inside of you I can't stop myself."

"I don't want you to stop," I murmured as I buried my face in his neck.

I shimmied out of the ripped fabric that used to be my lace panties and placed them on his chest, "I guess I won't wear my good underwear anymore."

He laughed, his fingers brushing through my hair as the warmth of our bodies and the lingering high of pleasure settled between us. The rain outside had eased into a soft patter against the cabin's roof, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly still.

Ryan picked up the torn lace, twirling it between his fingers with a smug grin. "Can't make any promises, baby," he said, "Might have to start buying you more."

I rolled my eyes, stretching out against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. His fingers trailed absentmindedly down my spine, tracing lazy patterns against my skin.

The rain outside softened into a rhythmic lull, the fire casting flickering shadows across the wooden walls. The warmth of the cabin wrapped around us, sealing us in our own little world.

"Feels good up here," I murmured, pressing a kiss against his collarbone.

He hummed in agreement, his grip tightening slightly around my waist. "Just you, me, and the storm," he said. "Wouldn't mind keeping you here a while."

I smiled against his skin, my fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "Not sure my dad would appreciate you stealing me away."

Ryan chuckled, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "Your dad's the one who sent us up here. Think he knew exactly what he was doing."

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "You think?"

"Oh, I know." He smirked, pulling me on top of him in one swift motion. "And I plan on making the most of it."

"You ready to go again already, cowboy?" I smiled down at him as I straddled his hips. I grabbed the hem of my gown and pulled it up over my head.

Ryan's hands found my hips, his grip firm as he looked up at me with that easy, hungry grin. "You're sittin' on me like that, darlin', and askin' if I'm ready?" He let out a low chuckle, his fingers tracing the curves of my bare skin. "What do you think?"

I tossed my nightgown to the floor, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed over me. The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting the dark desire in his eyes.

"Guess I won't make you wait then," I murmured, leaning down to press my lips to his. His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer as his mouth claimed mine with a deep, slow kiss.

His body tensed beneath me, his desire unmistakable as I rolled my hips against him, teasing us both. His breath hitched, and his fingers dug into my thighs.

I slipped my hands between us, fingers wrapping around his hardened length. I locked eyes with his as I raised up positioning him at my entrance then I sank slowly down on him. I bit my lip, savoring the way he filled me.

Ryan let out a deep, guttural groan, his hands gripping my hips tighter as I took him inch by inch. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes dark with need as he watched me move.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, his fingers digging into my skin. "You feel so damn good."

I let out a soft moan, rolling my hips as I adjusted to him, feeling every thick, pulsing inch stretching me just right. My hands flattened against his chest, nails lightly scraping over his skin as I started to move.

He met me halfway, thrusting up to meet my slow, deliberate movements, his hands guiding me, urging me to take him deeper. Heat pooled low in my belly, each slow grind sending another wave of pleasure coursing through me.

"Ride me, sweetheart," he growled, his voice rough and breathless. "Just like that."

I obeyed, rolling my hips faster, harder, chasing the pleasure that built between us. His eyes never left me, locked onto mine, watching every gasp, every shudder that wracked my body.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his, swallowing his groan as the pressure coiled tight, ready to snap. "Ryan…" I whimpered, my fingers gripping his shoulders.

"I got you, baby," he promised, flipping me onto my back in one fluid motion, his hips slamming into mine as he took control.

My nails scraped marks down his shoulders and the pressure snapped. My body tightened around him as I started to quake beneath him. Each stroke, each hard thrust pushed me further and further over the edge.

"Fuck," he cried out as he slammed hard and deep, his hips rolling into mine as he came hard. I let out a deep moan as I felt the hot spurts of his release filling me full.

Ryan's body trembled above me, his breath ragged as he rode out his release, buried deep inside me. His arms shook slightly as he held himself up, his forehead dropping to mine while we both fought to catch our breath.

I wrapped my arms around his back, my fingers tracing the fresh scratches along his shoulders. His weight was comforting, grounding me as the aftershocks of pleasure pulsed through my body.

"You okay, baby?" he murmured against my lips, pressing a lazy kiss there.

I let out a breathless chuckle. "More than okay."

He grinned, shifting to the side and pulling me with him so I was draped over his chest. The room was quiet except for the steady patter of rain outside and the sound of our slowing heartbeats.

Ryan's fingers trailed lazy circles along my spine. "Every time with you, it's like that," he muttered, almost to himself. "Like I'm never gonna get enough."

I smiled against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. "Good, because I don't want you to."

His arms tightened around me, holding me close as we lay tangled together in the dim firelight, the warmth of our bodies melting into one.

My fingers traced the 'Y' on his chest, reminding me of everything we'd been through to get here. He was a part of me and I was a part of him.

Ryan caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my fingertips before placing it back over his heart. His pulse was steady beneath my palm, a grounding rhythm that tied me to him in ways words never could.

"You still thinking?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with exhaustion.

"Just remembering," I admitted, my fingers continuing to trace the scar that marked him—a reminder of the past, of battles fought and won, of everything that had led us to this moment.

He let out a soft hum, his other hand running through my hair. "Hope you're remembering the good parts."

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. "Only the best parts."

Ryan's lips curled into that easy smile of his, the one that always made my heart skip. "Then I guess we'll just have to keep making more of those."

I smirked, shifting up to straddle his hips again. "Good thing I'm not tired yet."

He groaned, his hands settling on my waist. "Baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

I leaned down, brushing my lips over his. "Then I'll make sure you go out happy. I think you and I should take advantage of that big bathtub in there." I nodded my head in the direction of the bathroom.

"How can I say no to that?" he murmured as he pulled me down for another kiss. I slid off of him, inching slowly off the bed.

I wrinkled my nose as I looked at his feet, "I can't believe you fucked me with your socks still on."

"Baby, I had other things to focus on besides my feet," his hand slid around my waist as he stood behind me letting out a chuckle, "and I've fucked you with my pants still on."

I turned in his arms, laughing as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "True, but that was different."

Ryan smirked, tilting his head. "How so?"

I traced a finger down his chest, stopping just above his navel. "It was hot."

His laughter rumbled against my palm before he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Everything I do to you is hot."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight the smile tugging at my lips. "Well, you're definitely not getting in that tub with socks on."

Ryan smirked, stepping back just enough to tug them off and toss them aside. "Happy now?"

I gave an approving nod, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the bathroom. The large tub sat beneath a window that overlooked the darkened landscape, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the room. I leaned over to start the water, feeling the heat warm my fingers as the tub began to fill.

Ryan came up behind me, his hands gliding over my hips before settling on my waist. "You know," he murmured, lips grazing my shoulder, "we might get clean, but I can't promise we'll behave."

I turned to face him, stepping backward into the warm water, letting it swirl around my calves as I held his gaze. "Good," I smirked. "I'd be disappointed if you did."