Another day broke, bringing more of the same heartache. The cattle were gone, but their loss lingered, heavy as the morning fog. The field was tainted, poisoned beyond saving. We'd have to burn it—couldn't risk the clover taking root and turning this whole damn nightmare into a cycle.

I moved to saddle my horse, needing the familiarity of leather and reins to ground me, but Dad's voice cut through the silence.

"No horses," he said firmly.

I exhaled sharply, setting the saddle back down.

"I hate this fucking thing," Colby muttered, eyeing the four-wheeler like it had personally offended him.

"They have no soul," I agreed, climbing onto one of the cold, unfeeling machines.

Colby glanced over at me. "You sure you wanna be a part of this?"

"Where else am I gonna be?" I replied. There was nowhere else. No escaping it. This was our burden to bear.

"I checked every manifest at every airstrip in the county," Kayce said, jaw tight, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Nothing."

"He got that plane from somewhere," I countered, arms crossed. "We just have to find it."

Dad nodded, his face lined with the weight of too many problems and not enough time to solve them. "You'll be riding with Agent Hendon today," he told Kayce. "He knows the job. Learn from him."

Kayce exhaled sharply, his displeasure evident. He'd never been one to take orders well, especially from people he didn't respect yet. "Y'all sure you don't need help around here?"

"I got it covered," I assured him, feeling a small sense of relief—if Kayce was out chasing leads, that meant Ryan was staying behind. It wasn't the time to think about that, not with the stench of rotting cattle still thick in the air, but I couldn't help it.

"Find the plane, son," Dad instructed, his voice carrying the weight of command. "And if you find anything, don't confront anyone. Call the sheriff for backup."

We all knew that last part was wishful thinking. Kayce wasn't the type to wait around when trouble presented itself. If he found the bastards responsible, backup or not, there was going to be a reckoning.

Kayce didn't argue, but the look in his eyes told me he was already planning to do things his own way. With a nod, he turned and left, heading off to chase ghosts in the sky while we dealt with the nightmare rotting right in front of us.

"Sweetheart," Dad called out to me, "ride out with Ryan on the Tracker. I'd rather you not go out there but I know there's no stopping you."

I gave him a nod. He was right; there was no stopping me. I was gonna do what I could to help this family, this ranch. Dad had to know that it meant something to me.

"Ok, Dad," I responded. I loaded a few more containers of gas in the back of the Tracker and sat on the passenger's side.

"Hey," Ryan said slipping behind the wheel.

"There's no door on this thing so I took the liberty of climbing in myself," I offered him a weak smile, "your gentleman card is still intact."

Ryan smirked as he started the Tracker, the engine rumbling beneath us. "Good to know," he said, glancing over at me. "Wouldn't wanna lose my credentials."

I let out a small breath of a laugh, but it didn't last. The weight of what we were about to do pressed down on me again, threatening to suffocate any moment of lightness. Burning the field was the only option, but it felt like we were setting fire to more than just the land. It was a loss we'd have to swallow, another scar on a ranch already full of them.

Ryan must've noticed the shift in my mood because his expression softened. "You sure you wanna do this?" he asked. "I know you feel like you gotta, but—"

"There's nowhere else I'd be," I cut him off, looking out over the field. The sun was rising over the valley, golden light stretching across land that had been ours for generations. Land someone was trying to take from us, piece by piece. "This place is my home. My family. I have to do something."

Ryan nodded, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "Alright then, let's get to work."

The Tracker jolted forward, kicking up dust as we headed toward the field, the smell of gasoline already thick in the air.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time we finished, casting an orange glow over the field soaked in gasoline. The smell clung to everything—our clothes, our skin, the very air around us. The fire department stood by, hoses ready, river water already pumping to keep the flames contained.

Ryan's voice was gentle but firm as he stepped closer. "Tie your hair back, baby."

I met his eyes for a moment before nodding, pulling off my hat and setting it on the hood of the Tracker. My fingers worked quickly, twisting my hair into a knot at the base of my neck. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, heavier than the heat that hadn't even reached us yet.

As the first torch was lit, I pulled my bandana up over my nose, bracing myself for what came next.

I slipped my hand into Ryan's, seeking something solid amidst the chaos. His fingers curled around mine, steady and sure. Together, we stood in silence, watching the flames consume the field, the fire crackling like a living thing as it devoured everything in its path. The heat licked at our skin, the smoke stung our eyes, but neither of us moved.

This wasn't just grass turning to ash—it was loss, it was anger, it was a warning. And we stood there, hand in hand, as it all burned.

I didn't care at the moment that my father was standing next to Rip, Lloyd, and the rest of the ranch hands just a few feet away. The world around me felt heavy, and the chaos of everything—the burning field, the threats on our doorstep—had all piled up, suffocating me. But in Ryan's grasp, I found something that calmed the storm inside me. I needed this, needed him, just to feel that grounding connection.

His presence was a lifeline in the midst of the fire, and for a brief moment, nothing else mattered. Not the ranch, not the enemies, not even the past—it was just us, and I held onto that with everything I had.

—-

I sat at the table between my brothers, trying to focus on the meal in front of me, but the tension in the room was thick. The sound of Beth's boots stomping on the hardwood floor announced her arrival before she even spoke.

"Even your walk is angry, honey," Dad said, the comment light, but his eyes were sharp, knowing she wasn't in a good mood.

"With good reason," she responded, voice cold.

I shifted in my seat, looking at Kayce. "Did you get a chance to check the airfield in Deer Lodge while you were out yesterday?"

"Not yet," Kayce said, his expression thoughtful. "But I'm starting to think that plane's from another state."

Jamie jumped in, "If I can get a warrant, we can check the flight logs out of the air traffic control in Bozeman. It'll be a lot of data to sift through," he glanced at me, "if you got time to help me, I can—"

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about work at the dinner table," Beth scoffed, cutting him off with her sharp tone.

"This is breakfast," I muttered, my fork moving absently to my mouth. I chewed slowly, not caring to rise to the bait. The bacon was just crisp enough to ground me for a moment. "Whatever you need me to—"

"This is not a breakfast table, this is a dining room table. How do I know it's a dining room table? Cause it's in the fucking dining room," Beth sneered, storming off before anyone could respond.

Dad sighed, his voice carrying the weight of years of patience. "Stop wasting your time, son," he told Kayce, ignoring Beth's latest outburst, his eyes narrowing. "Go to the source. I want him to know what we know."

"You think that's a good idea?" Jamie asked, eyeing Dad skeptically.

"If I didn't think it was a good idea, I wouldn't have suggested it," Dad replied firmly, his tone brokering no argument. Jamie only nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was still on Dad's shit list, trying his damnedest to work his way off it. It wasn't easy, and I could see the frustration in Jamie's jaw as he tried to bite back his annoyance.

"Wear your badge today, Kayce," Dad added, the authority in his voice rising. "Take Ryan with you. Keep it official."

Kayce shot me a look as Dad turned his attention elsewhere. I gave him a slight nod, signaling that I was on board with whatever he needed. He stood up, stretching out his back, and headed for the door to start his day.

"I hate when y'all do that shit," Dad muttered, shaking his head as he watched Kayce leave.

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "You just don't get it, Dad."

"No, I get it," he said, rubbing his temples. "It's just… annoying. You two think you're so clever with that silent communication shit."

"It works," I shot back, grinning. "You just have to be paying attention."

"And you," Dad's gaze locked onto Jamie, sharp as a whip, "you've lost the right to question me for a while."

Jamie opened his mouth to argue, but Dad was already turning, striding out of the room with his usual purposeful gait. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence in the wake of his departure.

Jamie let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes briefly meeting mine. "This is bullshit," he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face.

I leaned back in my chair, not saying anything. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Jamie didn't need my sympathy, but I knew this wasn't easy for him. Hell, it wasn't easy for any of us.

—-

Meeting with the new attorney general was definitely not how I wanted to spend my time, so I left that to Dad and Jamie. It wasn't my fight to fight, and right now, I had other things on my mind.

I climbed into the cab of my truck, the seat feeling unfamiliar beneath me as I slid it forward. The worn leather groaned, settling into place as I adjusted myself. It felt strange, almost like the truck missed Ryan's presence behind the wheel.

Pulling out of the ranch and heading toward town, I let the familiar rhythm of the drive calm my nerves. Shopping for Ryan's new shirt was a simple distraction, and the photoshoot with Wrangler was business as usual. My sponsorship deal was one of the few things that felt grounded in a sea of chaos.

Despite everything that was happening with the ranch, the cattle, and Beth's disastrous investment, I couldn't help but think that every little bit of support would count. I wasn't sure how much of my money Jamie intended to put into saving the ranch, but I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he was mulling over how or if he could funnel any of it into covering the losses.

The whole situation made me uneasy, but I couldn't help thinking that it wasn't just about the money. It was about our family, our legacy. And right now, I wasn't sure where I fit into that picture.

The photo studio had been styled to feel like a ranch house, and it was so familiar that I almost felt at home. The rustic vibes, the soft lighting—it could have been my own living room. There was a strange sense of ease in the midst of the chaos, as I was primped and prodded for the shoot. My hair was curled just right, makeup meticulously applied. When they were done, I almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

I chuckled to myself. Honestly, it felt a bit ridiculous. Why bother with all the makeup when most of the shots were going to be focused on my backside?

"Drop your shirt off your shoulder and look back at me," the photographer instructed, his voice authoritative but calm. I felt a flicker of discomfort but did as he asked.

"Tilt your chin up, look at me like you're looking at your cowboy."

I immediately thought of Ryan—his rugged smile, the way his eyes softened when he was looking at me. A small smile tugged at my lips as I pictured him in my mind.

"Perfect," the photographer said, snapping away. He was pleased with the shot. Then he asked a few other models to join me, positioning them to capture the different styles of jeans we were showcasing. He took photos of us from the waist down, the camaraderie of the group lightening the mood a little.

Even though the shoot was just part of business, I couldn't help but think how odd it was to be standing there, pretending to be someone else for the camera while my life was burning down in other ways.

"That's a wrap," the photographer called, snapping his camera one last time. "I'll send you copies of the proofs for your approval to your email this afternoon."

"Ok, thanks," I replied, offering him a smile. The day had gone by faster than expected, though I was glad it was over. My truck was loaded with "free" samples—Wrangler jeans for everyone on the Yellowstone, along with a blue plaid button-up shirt that I knew would look perfect on Ryan. It saved me that extra trip to town for shopping, which was one less thing to worry about in the midst of everything else going on at the ranch.

I drove past the house, stopping at the bunkhouse. I wanted to see my cowboy in person. I liked thinking of Ryan as mine, even if we hadn't slapped a label on whatever this was.

I pushed the door open and leaned inside. Damn, it always smelled like sweat, leather, and bad decisions in here.

"Think someone can give me a hand?" I called out. "I can't carry all this in myself."

Colby scooted back from the table, eyeing me over like he couldn't quite place what was different. "You look... different."

"What he meant to say was nice," Avery corrected, shooting him a look.

"What's with the makeover?" Colby asked, crossing his arms.

"Long story," I said, smirking. "But y'all get to reap the spoils of my labor."

Colby, Jimmy, and Jake grabbed the boxes from my truck. Inside, I motioned toward the first one on the table. "That's a box of women's jeans," I told Avery. "Take your pick. Hopefully, one of those other boxes has a pair that'll fit Jimmy."

"Hey!" Jimmy protested. "I'm a perfectly average size!"

Colby snorted. "Buddy, you're one growth spurt away from needing the kids' section."

Avery shook her head, already digging through the pile. "Thanks," she said. "You sure about all this?"

I shrugged. "Wrangler foots the bill, so unless you have some deep moral opposition to free stuff, go wild."

Ryan finally walked in, spotting the blue plaid shirt in my hands, then glanced at me with a lazy grin.

"Hope that's my replacement," he said.

I held it up to his chest, nodding in approval. "Figured I owed you after the last one met an untimely death."

He stepped closer, voice dropping low. "Gonna make me work for it?"

I smirked. "Always."

Colby groaned. "I swear, if you two start making eyes at each other, I'm leaving."

"Colby," I shot him a grin, "I finally let you in my pants, and this is how you show gratitude?"

He barked out a laugh. "Well, hell, when you put it like that—"

Jimmy choked on his beer, slamming the bottle down as he coughed. "Christ, give a guy some warning before you drop shit like that."

Avery smirked, sorting through the jeans. "I knew you had a favorite ranch hand."

Ryan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His amused gaze flicked between me and Colby. "Should I be jealous?"

I snatched a pair of jeans from the pile and lobbed them at Colby's chest. "Relax, cowboy. You're the only one who gets in them."

Colby caught them with a smirk, holding them up like a trophy. "Damn. Now these just feel sentimental."

Ryan shook his head with a slow chuckle. "I swear, the things I put up with."

I shot him a wink. "Yeah, but you love it."

"Well, I do like the way you fill out those jeans," he smirked, his gaze dragging over me with appreciation.

I turned around slowly, giving him a full view. "That so?"

His smirk deepened. "Mm-hmm."

I glanced back at him over my shoulder. "Not gonna lie… getting these off might take some effort." I tugged at the waistband for emphasis. "Might need a little help—if you're game."

Ryan pushed off the doorframe, closing the distance between us with that lazy, confident swagger. "Darlin', I was born for this kind of work."

"I'm glad you're not opposed to a little overtime," I teased, looking up at him. His Livestock Agent jacket was still on, his badge hanging from his neck, gun resting at his hip—looking every bit the cowboy lawman.

"Everything go alright with you and Kayce today?"

Ryan let out a small chuckle, pulling me closer. "Riding along with your brother is… interesting."

I quirked a brow, knowing he wouldn't spill details without a little encouragement—not that I minded encouraging him.

"This," I murmured, letting my fingers graze over his badge, "looks good on you."

"Y'all know we're still in the room, right?" Jimmy chuckled.

"And?" I didn't even bother looking away from Ryan.

"See? I told you—goo-goo eyes. Every damn time," Colby snickered.

Ryan smirked, finally glancing over at them. "One day, Colby, we'll find you a girlfriend so you can make eyes at someone too."

"You wanna get changed and relax?" I slid my arms around his waist. "Then we can talk about your day."

Ryan smirked, his hands settling on my hips. "I was thinking about taking a shower…" He gave my ass a slow, deliberate squeeze. "But something distracted me."

"I hate distracting you," I murmured, my gaze locking with his.

His lips brushed my cheek, teasingly soft. "No, you don't." He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "But you could always join me—y'know, if you really wanna make it up to me."

"I do want to make it up to you," I murmured, letting my arms slowly slide from around his waist. "Go grab your stuff, and I'll meet you there."

I walked into the bunkhouse bathroom, eyeing my reflection in the mirror. Still me, just... a little more polished. I kicked off my boots and started unbuttoning my shirt, then my jeans. Honestly, I wasn't joking about how much effort it took to peel these jeans off. They were tighter than I usually wore for riding, but I couldn't deny how Ryan looked at me when I wore them. Hell, who am I kidding? I loved the way Ryan looked at me, no matter what I was wearing.

"And here I was, hoping stripping those off of you would be my job," Ryan said, leaning in the doorway, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

I raised an eyebrow, teasing, "I could always put them back on if you'd prefer."

Ryan didn't hesitate, crossing the room in three quick strides. "You better fucking not," he muttered, his lips crashing onto mine in a kiss.

I clung to his arms as he stripped the rest of my clothes away, his movements quick and efficient. We left a trail from the door to the shower. I'd worry about that later. Much later.

His hands smoothed over my thighs, and instinct had me wrapping my legs around his waist as we stepped into the shower. I held on to his shoulders, pressing myself against the wall as he kept me steady.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing over my jaw.

"Ryan, please," I groaned, the heat of his body searing into mine as I felt his thickness pressing against me.

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from my neck. "Tell me what you want, baby," his voice was low, thick with desire as he teased the sensitive skin near my pulse.

"I want you inside me," I moaned, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He didn't hesitate, adjusting his grip on me as he lifted me slightly, shifting us both into the perfect angle. With a steady, purposeful thrust, he filled me completely, and I gasped, my body instinctively clinging to him.

His breath was ragged against my ear as he began to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust deep and steady, the heat between us building. My hands grasped at his shoulders for stability as his body rocked against mine, pushing me against the shower wall.

I arched my back, pulling him closer as each movement grew deeper. A wave of heat spread through me, tightening my grip on him. Every shift of his body seemed to intensify the sensation, and the world outside the shower faded away. All that mattered was the rhythm between us, the way our bodies connected with such raw urgency. My breath hitched, a gasp escaping as he adjusted, finding a new angle that sent me spiraling.

"Ryan," I cried out, barely able to breathe. He tightened his hold, his own rhythm steadying, and I surrendered to the feeling, lost in the moment.

Ryan let out a deep groan, his movements slowing as he reached the peak of our shared connection. We stayed locked together, breathing heavy, savoring the closeness. I clung to him, feeling the heat of our bodies pressed so tightly together. His forehead rested gently against mine, and his smile softened as he held me close.

"I just can't get enough of you," he murmured, his words a quiet, heartfelt confession that made my chest flutter.

"I'm yours," I whispered, my legs barely holding me up, feeling the weight of the moment.

"Steady, baby," he murmured, his hand catching my arm to steady me. "Can't have you actually falling for me."

"Who says I'm falling?" I shot back, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. As I turned away, I let the water hit my skin, its warmth soothing the tension from the day. But it didn't compare to the heat of his chest against my back. Ryan's arms slid around me, pulling me closer until I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

"Careful, baby," he murmured, his voice low and warm, "You might convince me otherwise."

I leaned into him, letting the water cascade over us, the quiet hum of the shower filling the space around us. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my back, a rhythm that matched my own, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

"You know," I whispered, "I'm not sure who's falling here."

"Baby, I already fell," Ryan murmured, tightening his grip around me. "But let's get you cleaned up before I start thinking about getting you dirty all over again."

I couldn't help but smile at his words, but my attention was immediately caught by his hand reaching for the bottle of 3-in-one body wash.

I wrinkled my nose as I glanced at the label. "We need to work on that. Products are sold in separate bottles for a reason."

Ryan shrugged casually as he lathered up his hands, then started smoothing them over my back. "It does what I need it to." He flashed me a mischievous grin, his fingers gently gliding across my skin, the scent of the body wash mixing with the warmth of the water.

I couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Well, I guess it is doing a good job then," I teased, trying not to get too distracted by the way his hands moved so effortlessly over me. "But I swear, if I catch you using a 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash next time, I'm banning you from my shower."

Ryan laughed softly, his lips brushing against my neck as he leaned in. "Noted," he whispered, his hands sliding lower as he continued his work with the body wash. "But hey, multitasking—it's a skill, right?"

"You've got skills," I said, relaxing into him as his hands continued their steady rhythm. "But the body wash has nothing to do with it."

Ryan's chuckle vibrated against my back, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. "Well, I guess I'll have to work harder to prove you wrong then." His hands moved a little lower, his touch purposeful yet gentle. "You've got me all figured out."

I grinned, looking up at him over my shoulder. "I'm not trying to figure you out," I teased. "I'm just enjoying the view."

—

Dressed in one of Ryan's oversized t-shirts—at this rate, I was sure he'd run out of them soon—I stepped out of the bathroom. The moment I emerged, every set of eyes in the room snapped to me. They didn't need to say a word; they knew exactly what had been going on in there.

Avery grinned and shook her head. "Girl, you are loud."

I shot her a playful wink. "He just knows what he's doing, that's all."

Ryan stepped out of the bathroom behind me, and I could practically hear the collective thoughts of the room—silent, but undeniable.

I tucked my feet under me as I settled beside him on the couch, my phone clutched in my hand. I bit my lip, a little hesitant, before I glanced at Ryan. "Can I show you something? Promise you won't laugh?"

Ryan gave me a playful smirk, one that made my heart skip a beat. "I can't promise I won't laugh, baby. Not until I see it."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at my lips. I opened the email from the photographer and scrolled through the images, my finger hovering over a few, debating whether or not to show him. I finally held my phone out toward him, the pictures of me in various poses on the screen. "I look ridiculous, don't I?"

"Baby, you look beautiful," Ryan said, his voice low and sincere, "You always do." He pointed at one of the photos—the sultry, off-the-shoulder shot. "Send me that one."

I raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at my lips. "You want a picture of me on your phone?"

He shrugged, his smirk playful. "If you want to send me a pic of these," he gave my breast a gentle squeeze over my shirt, "I wouldn't mind either."

I snorted, shaking my head. "You are such a man."

Ryan leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear. "I'm just being honest."

I gave him a sideways glance. "But I might surprise you."

I sent him the image, then casually scrolled to another—the one of me with the other girls, just waist down, showcasing the different jeans.

Ryan barely glanced at it before smirking. "That one is you."

I arched a brow. "Oh yeah? And how exactly do you know that?"

He shot me a look like I was crazy for even asking. "Baby, you didn't think I couldn't pick your ass out of a lineup?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "You might have a problem."

"Nah," he said, pulling me closer. "Just priorities."

"That was my day," I dropped my phone in my lap and leaned my head against his chest, "how was yours?"

"It was– strange," he said, "handcuffs, the trunk of a car, Kayce almost tossing a guy off his balcony."

"That's a lot of words you just said without telling me anything," I responded, "we can revisit the handcuff thing if you want…"

Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "You get stuck on the wrong details, baby."

I grinned up at him. "You're the one who brought up handcuffs. What'd you expect?"

His hand slid lazily up and down my arm. "Well, now I know where your mind went. Not that I'm complaining."

"Damn right, you're not," I smirked before nudging him. "But seriously, back up. Who was in the trunk of a car?"

"I was cuffed in the trunk of a car, well, the back of an SUV," he said, "asshole didn't ask me for the key."

"I'm still not following," I listened to his rambling retelling of his side of the story. They had confronted Jenkins.

"And the balcony?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Kayce didn't actually throw him off. Just… dangled him a little."

I lifted my head, eyes narrowing. "Define a little."

Ryan hesitated, then finally admitted, "Feet were off the ground. Over the railing."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "And you didn't stop him?"

"That's why he didn't get thrown off the balcony," he answered, "And besides, you know your brother. Once he gets an idea in his head…"

I exhaled sharply. "Did you at least find anything useful today?"

Ryan gave me a look. "We found out that dangling a man off a balcony makes him real chatty. Jenkins doesn't know shit about the cattle."

I shook my head, laughing despite myself. "I swear, between you and my brother, I'm gonna have gray hair before I hit thirty."

—-

Denim was just as ready as I to show off what we'd been working on. I wanted to get a little practice in before Travis and his crew arrived. Rip was raring to win a few dollars up against him.

I stopped outside the arena, watching Jimmy, of all people, practicing his reining. I had to watch this.

Leaning against the fence, I crossed my arms and smirked as Jimmy guided his horse through the pattern. He wasn't bad—hell, he'd come a long way from the green kid who could barely stay in the saddle. But he still had that stiff, overly concentrated look, like he was afraid to breathe wrong and mess it all up.

I waited until he finished his rollback before calling out, "You sure you ain't got a stick up your ass, Jimmy? 'Cause you're riding like you do."

Jimmy nearly lost his seat at my voice, fumbling to keep control. "Damn it, don't sneak up on me like that!"

I chuckled, resting a boot on the bottom rail. "Wasn't sneakin'. Just trying to figure out what in the hell you're tryin' to do."

"So, you just run down there and say, whoa, right?" he asked.

"I think there's a little more to it than that," Walker said sitting on a bench outside of the arena, 'coaching' Jimmy.

"You know how to do it?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, I ain't gonna win no money doin' it, but I don't think you are either," Walker replied.

"I'm a little thin on options," Jimmy said. I chewed my lip; I couldn't solve everyone's problems. And men even green men like Jimmy wouldn't want me just bailing them out of whatever mess they'd found themselves in.

"Just run down the area, point your belt buckle to the sky, keep your eyes on the top of the barn, open up your feet, and say 'whoa.'" I told him.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at me. "That sounds too simple."

I smirked. "Ain't my fault you complicate things."

He muttered something under his breath before turning his horse toward the far end of the arena. I could see him psyching himself up, shoulders stiff, gripping the reins like his life depended on it.

Walker chuckled, shaking his head. "This is gonna be good."

Jimmy took off, his horse moving at a decent clip, but instead of flowing with the momentum, Jimmy looked like he was bracing for impact the entire time. When he reached the spot, he threw his weight back, yanked the reins, and hollered, "WHOA!"

His horse skidded to a rough, choppy stop—more like a stutter step than a smooth slide—and Jimmy damn near toppled forward out of the saddle.

Walker let out a low whistle. "Well, you technically stopped."

I leaned against the fence, biting back my laugh. "You were supposed to keep your ass in the saddle, Jimmy, not launch yourself into orbit."

Jimmy groaned, rubbing his lower back. "Pretty sure I just compacted a few vertebrae."

"Try again," I said, adjusting my hat. "This time, loosen up. Your horse knows what to do—you just gotta let him."

Jimmy shot me a look but turned his horse around, determination tightening his grip.

Walker leaned back on the bench, smirking. "How many tries before he gets it?"

I considered. "Depends how many times he's willing to eat dirt before he listens."

"Guess we'll find out," Walker drawled, watching as Jimmy took off again—stiffer than a damn board.

I lifted my eyes, catching the site of Ryan, Colby, and Jake riding in from the field. Likely preparing to join in on the festivities when Travis arrived. I might have let my eyes linger. But only for a minute.

I missed Jimmy's first successful slide.

"There you go," Walker cheered.

"Woo! I think I can do this," Jimmy called over to Ryan and Colby, "You see that?"

"We seen you, Jimmy, looking just like Andrea Fupani," Colby called back.

"Who?" he asked.

"He's a champion reigner," I told him.

Jimmy looked smug as hell, sitting a little taller in his saddle. "Damn right I am."

Ryan smirked, riding up alongside me. "Should we tell him it's Andrea Fappani or let him keep feeling like a big shot?"

I chuckled. "Let him have this moment. It ain't often Jimmy gets to feel like a champion."

Colby, never one to miss an opportunity, called out, "Hey, Jimmy, you planning on entering the next reining competition?"

Jimmy rubbed his chin like he was seriously considering it. "Maybe. If I keep this up, I might take home a belt buckle or two."

Jake snorted. "Hell, if you win a belt buckle, I'll let you wear it right across my forehead."

"That a promise?" Jimmy grinned.

"Why don't you stick to the friendly competitions before you start rodeoing," I told him.

I turned back to Ryan, letting my gaze linger a little longer this time. He caught me looking and smirked. "Like what you see, baby?"

I tilted my head. "Just checking to see if you were sweating. Wouldn't want you tuckered out before the real competition starts."

He leaned in, his voice dropping just low enough for only me to hear. "Darlin', I don't wear out that easy."

A shiver ran down my spine, but I played it cool. "Guess we'll see about that."

Music started playing in the arena as Travis and his cohorts gathered to show off their stuff. It was all beers, horses, and a good time. Maybe a friendly wager among them.

The first rider took off, slid to a stop.

"Hey Colby, how far was that one?" Travis called.

"About 25!"Colby called back.

"Damn you bring the sharks when you come here, Travis," Rip chuckled.

"What are you talking about that's just a God-fearing family from North Texas," Travis responded.

"Of course they are," I shook my head and smiled eyeing at least three fierce competitors from the circuit among the God-fearing family.

"Alright, fuck it," Rip said riding off to take his shot.

"You want me to hold your beer?" I asked.

Rip shook his head and headed off to the end of the arena. His horse took off and slid to a stop. Not quite sliding as far as he hoped.

"Shit but I did it with a beer in my hand so that's gotta count for something," he called.

"That's not gonna get it done," Travis laughed as he headed to the end of the arena, his horse sliding at least thirty feet.

"You gonna give it a shot, Alex?" he asked.

"Sure, why not," I smirked I nudged Denim's side as we trotted to the end of the arena. I lengthened the reigns in my hand as he took off running. I circled the arena once as I stood in the saddle as we made our way our way back down I crouched down, maintaining my balance as I slid my horse to a stop.

"Now that's just fucking showing off," Travis shouted.

"Colby, how far was that?" I asked.

Colby gave an exaggerated whistle, squinting like he was taking real measurements. "I'd say 'bout thirty-five feet—plus style points."

Ryan chuckled from where he leaned against the fence. "Style points don't count, baby."

I flipped my hair over my shoulder and grinned. "Maybe not in competition, but they sure as hell count where it matters."

Travis laughed, shaking his head. "Ain't nobody here surprised you pulled a stunt like that."

Rip groaned, taking a sip of his beer. "I don't know why I even try with you."

"Because you like losing to me?" I teased.

Rip huffed but didn't argue.

Travis leaned on his saddle horn, eyeing me. "You ever get tired of running around Yellowstone, you let me know. I got a spot for you."

I smirked, nudging Denim toward the fence where Ryan was standing. "I think I'll stick around here for a while."

Ryan reached out, brushing his fingers over my knee. "Good answer."

Travis rolled his eyes. "Goddamn lovebirds. Someone else get out there before I lose my appetite."

As if on cue, Jimmy rode in on his horse, looking way too confident for someone about to get his ass handed to him.

"Jimmy, come here," Ryan called him over, waving him down like he was about to save his life. "I've been watching these guys, and I don't know if you get to choose who you run against, but whatever you do—don't go against him." He pointed. "Or him." Another point. "And under no circumstances, go against him."

Jimmy scoffed. "You saw me slide this morning—I'm feeling kinda lucky."

Ryan sighed. "You didn't see what I saw."

"The kid's fucked," Jake chuckled.

"Like a tied goat," Ryan added.

I shook my head, biting back a laugh, really hoping it was a Jurassic Park reference and not some actual goat-related atrocity.

"Hey, you," Travis called out, eyes locked on Jimmy. "What's your name?"

Jimmy sat up a little straighter, his voice suddenly dropping an octave. "Jim."

"Alright, Jimmy," Travis smirked, "get over here, and let me explain the rules."

Jimmy muttered, "Wish me luck," before heading over.

"Sweetheart," I called after him, shaking my head, "you're gonna need more than luck."

Travis rattled off the rules. "It's a pay-up system. You come in last, you pay everyone that beats you. Second-to-last, you pay everyone but the bottom, and so on. Got it?"

Jimmy nodded, but the look on his face said he very much did not get it.

"You're the new guy with the freshest horse," Travis grinned. "You go first."

I groaned in second-hand embarrassment as Jimmy trotted his horse off in the wrong direction before realizing his mistake and turning around.

"Alright, Jimmy, you got this!" I cheered, more hopeful than convinced.

Jimmy nudged his horse into a gallop. He reached the end of the arena, said whoa—and his horse slid to a stop. A very, very short stop.

"What's that, about three, four feet?" Travis called, cackling. "I don't think you even need to measure that one, Colby."

The entire "God-fearing family" proceeded to smoke Jimmy, including the mom, who slid her horse at least fifteen feet longer than he did.

Jimmy slumped in his saddle. "I can't play this game—I don't have enough horse."

Travis barely suppressed a grin. "Wanna trade?"

Before Jimmy could process his mistake, Travis swapped horses with him.

I sighed, already bracing for round two of this disaster.

Travis rode to the end of the arena on Jimmy's horse, casually removing the bridle and reins before taking off like he had all the confidence in the world—which, to be fair, he did. With nothing but a shift of his weight and the sound of his voice, Jimmy's own horse betrayed him, sliding a solid fifteen feet like it had been holding out on him this whole time.

Jimmy groaned, rubbing his face. "You've got to be kidding me."

Meanwhile, Travis' beast of a horse stood stock-still, unimpressed by Jimmy's attempts to coax it forward.

"Come on," Jimmy muttered, tugging at the reins. "Work with me here, big guy."

Lloyd, watching from the sidelines, finally had enough. He hopped over the gate and strode toward Jimmy like a man with a purpose.

"Get off the damn horse, Jimmy," Lloyd said, exasperated. "Before you hurt yourself, the horse, or both."

Reluctantly, Jimmy swung down, muttering under his breath.

Travis, still grinning like a cat with a fresh bowl of cream, rode back over and slid off Jimmy's horse. "Don't worry," he said, clapping Jimmy on the shoulder. "I'm not gonna take your money."

Jimmy perked up. "Really?"

Travis shrugged. "Nah. Ripping you off wouldn't even be fun."

The entire bunkhouse roared with laughter. Jimmy just sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

"Next time, I'm picking my own competition."

"Next time," Ryan smirked, "pick a new hobby."