I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding when Dad called. Jimmy was okay. Well—not okay, but he was alive. And he would be able to walk with his new hip. Everything else would heal with time.

The knot in my stomach loosened, but the weight of the evening still pressed on my shoulders. The image of Jimmy lying limp in the dirt, unmoving, played over and over in my mind.

Ryan's hand found mine, his grip firm and reassuring. "Told you he was too damn stubborn to go out like that," he said softly.

I nodded, squeezing his hand. "Yeah, but it scared the hell out of me."

Dad's voice was still in my ear, gravelly but steady. "I'll meet you back at camp, Jimmy's staying in the hospital for a few days."

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Alright, Dad. Thanks for calling."

—-

I sat atop my horse, my second favorite place in the world—now that I had Ryan—watching over the cattle as they lazily grazed under the early morning sun. There wasn't much work in moments like this, just observation. Just being.

"Be well, cows," I muttered, half to myself, half to them. The herd stretched out before me, some clustered in small groups, others wandering off toward the tree line. The rhythmic sound of my horse's breathing and the occasional lowing of the cattle filled the quiet.

The land felt alive in the stillness. The way the wind moved through the grass, the distant rustling of something unseen in the brush—it all felt like part of a rhythm older than any of us.

I ran my fingers through my horse's mane, savoring the calm. Moments like these were why I stayed. Why I fought for this land.

A familiar sound broke through my thoughts—hoofbeats approaching from behind. I didn't need to turn around to know it was Ryan. I felt his presence before he even spoke.

"Talking to the cows again?" he teased, his voice warm with amusement.

I smirked, keeping my gaze on the horizon. "Someone's gotta keep 'em in line."

"You let me know if they start talking back, baby," he grinned pulling his horse to a stop right next to mine.

"If you listen real close," I told him, "maybe you'll hear them say something other than 'Moo'."

Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "I think if I start hearin' voices out here, I'll be more worried about my own sanity than what the cows have to say."

I smirked, keeping my eyes on the herd. "Maybe they've got wisdom to share. You ever think about that?"

He leaned forward, resting an arm against the saddle horn. "Wisdom, huh? Alright, cow whisperer, what pearls of knowledge have they passed on to you?"

I shrugged, pretending to think. "Mostly complaints. Not enough grass here, too much wind there. Typical ranch problems."

Ryan grinned. "Sounds like the bunkhouse."

That made me laugh. "Yeah, but at least the cows earn their keep."

He reached over, giving my thigh a squeeze. "That's cold, baby."

I finally turned to look at him, taking in the easy smile on his face, the way the sun caught in his eyes. "You'll live."

Ryan huffed a laugh, shaking his head before glancing out at the herd. "They look good."

"They do," I agreed. "Still, I like to keep watch. Just in case."

His expression softened. "Yeah, I know."

And he did. More than most.

I'm pulled from my insight from the cows as the sound of the Tracker coming over the hill. It was Jake. That part wasn't what caught me off guard. It was his passenger, Governor Lynnel Perry.

"Holly, hell," I muttered, "what is she doing here?" I watched her climb out of the Tracker and walk up to my father. A very impressive hook-up. I groaned almost at the thought of my father having a booty call. But at least his was the Governor of Montana. And not some twenty-five-year-old stripper named Bambi or Candy. I pushed the thoughts away, I was way overthinking this.

Ryan followed my gaze, his brows lifting in amusement as he watched the Governor step out of the Tracker. "Damn. Your old man sure knows how to pick 'em."

I groaned. "Don't. I already regret thinking about it."

Ryan chuckled, adjusting his reins. "Could be worse."

"Yeah?" I shot him a look.

"Could be some twenty-five-year-old stripper named Bambi or Candy."

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "I just told myself not to think about that."

He smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "I'm just sayin', Governor of Montana ain't a bad look."

I shot him a glare before turning back toward my father and the Governor. They stood close, speaking in low voices. Dad looked about as relaxed as he ever did in broad daylight, which was saying something.

"You think it's business or pleasure?" Ryan asked, tilting his head.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Knowing my father? Probably both."

Ryan let out a low whistle. "Man really does it all."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, shaking my head. "I need a drink."

Ryan smirked. "We could always take another trip to the river if you need to cool off."

I shot him a playful glance. "If I get in the river with you, cooling off will be the last thing on my mind." I winked before nudging my horse forward, leaving him grinning in my wake.

Up ahead, Governor Perry strolled toward Kayce, falling into step beside him as they disappeared into the trees.

I turned my attention to Dad. "I'm guessing she's not here just for a social call?"

He let out a dry chuckle. "No, she's not, sweetheart."

I arched a brow. "Why is she here?"

Dad studied me for a beat, a knowing glint in his eye. "Surprised you're asking instead of snooping around to figure it out yourself."

I shrugged. "Thought I'd save some time and try the direct approach first."

His lips twitched, but his voice remained even. "She wants Jamie as Attorney General."

That made sense—Jamie had always been drawn to politics like a moth to a flame. But then my gaze flicked back to the trees where Kayce and the Governor had vanished.

"Then why is she talking to Kayce?"

Dad exhaled. "Livestock Commissioner."

I frowned. "I thought he didn't want the job."

Dad's expression darkened slightly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Me too, sweetheart."

"You worried?" I asked, studying his face.

Dad let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the horizon. "I'm always worried. But about that? I don't think so."

I smirked. "You know, when I'm not snooping, I ask a lot of damn questions."

He shot me a sideways glance. "Yeah, and when you do, it's usually just to see if I'll actually answer 'em."

I grinned. "Busted."

Dad shook his head, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

"Love you, Daddy."

"Yeah, I know," he said, waving me off. "Go ride your horse in the meadow or something."

I kicked my heels into the sides of my horse, urging her into a steady gallop as the wind whipped through my hair, carrying the scent of fresh grass and the faintest hint of rain. I wasn't riding Denim, and I didn't have my trick riding saddle, but something inside me stirred, and I couldn't resist the pull of the open land.

I gripped the saddle horn tightly, my fingers flexing as I swung my legs to one side, feeling the dirt brush beneath my boots for just a heartbeat. For that moment, I was weightless, caught between air and earth, adrenaline surging through me, my heart racing faster than the hooves pounding beneath us. Then, in one fluid motion, I hopped back into the saddle, my boots landing with a soft thud.

The rush was intense—raw and electrifying. It wasn't a full trick, not without Denim or the right gear, but it was enough to make my pulse quicken, the thrill of the moment surging through my veins.

My horse snorted, her muscles tensing under me as she adjusted to the sudden shift in weight. I reached down, running a hand along her neck, soothing her with a soft murmur. "Good girl," I whispered, my voice barely a breath against the wind. She responded, relaxing beneath me as I guided her into a smooth canter, the world blurring around us.

The valley stretched out before me, golden in the fading light of the late afternoon. The sun kissed the tops of the hills in the distance, painting everything in a warm, amber glow. The scent of wildflowers mixed with the earthiness of the land, and for a moment, everything else—every question, every concern, every responsibility—faded away.

It was just me, my horse, and the rhythm of the ride, the steady beat of hooves echoing in my chest, the land stretching out beneath us.

Maybe Dad was right. Maybe I asked too many damn questions, always searching for answers, always probing the people around me for the truth. But out here, I didn't need answers. Out here, there was no politics or agendas, no worries about the ranch or the future. Just the feeling of the wind in my hair, the strength of the horse beneath me, and the peace that came from moving through this vast, wild space.

Maybe it was all I needed for now. Even if just for a few seconds.

—

The air in the tent was thick with the lingering warmth of the day, the soft rustle of the canvas a quiet backdrop to the steady beat of my heart. I could feel the adrenaline still buzzing through me from the ride, like electricity crackling beneath my skin. As I stepped into the tent, the coolness of the air inside was a welcome contrast to the heat outside.

Ryan was sprawled out on the mattress, his back propped up against the pillow, a book in his hands, the words barely registering in his gaze as he read. The sight of him so relaxed, so easy in his own world, made something inside me stir. I knew what I wanted to do with all the energy still coursing through me.

I slipped off my boots, the soft thud of them hitting the floor barely making a sound. With the tent's flap fluttering shut behind me, I moved toward the bed, the anticipation building with each step. Ryan's eyes never left the page, but I could feel his attention shifting toward me, the subtle shift of his posture telling me he was aware of my presence.

Without a word, I straddled his hips, my knees sinking into the mattress beside him. His free hand instinctively slid up to my thigh, the warmth of his touch igniting a spark deep in my core, but he didn't break his gaze from the book. His fingers traced slowly over the fabric of my jeans, his touch light, almost teasing.

"Not going to ask what you're up to?" he murmured, his voice low, yet steady, as if he was fully aware of the change in the air.

I grinned down at him, feeling the pulse of excitement swell within me. "Maybe I like it better when you don't ask."

Ryan's lips quirked into a smirk as he finally lowered his book, setting it aside on the bed with a deliberate slowness. His gaze met mine—intense, dark with a trace of amusement. "Well, I'm not going to stop you."

I leaned down just enough to let my lips brush against his ear, whispering, "Good."

Ryan's breath caught as I moved against him, the heat between us growing with each slow roll of my hips. The intensity in his grip on my thigh tightened, his hand pressing me closer, but he still didn't say a word. His silence was a response in itself—he was just as lost in the moment as I was.

I let my lips drift from his jaw down the smooth line of his neck, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat under my mouth. Each touch of my lips was deliberate, teasing him just as much as I was teasing myself. His skin was warm beneath my lips, his muscles shifting under my touch as he inhaled sharply, his body responding instinctively to mine.

My hand slid lower, trailing over the hard planes of his chest, fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt before moving lower. The rhythm of my hips was steady, knowing the effect it was having on him, but I was in no rush. I let my fingers graze over his stomach, the muscles beneath tightening at my touch. When I reached his waistband, I let my fingers linger there for a second before I tugged at the button of his jeans, the soft click of it opening a sound that felt far too loud in the quiet of the tent.

Ryan's breath hitched as my hand dipped lower, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his hand moved to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was all fire and urgency. I answered it, my own desire growing with each breath, each movement.

I groaned into the kiss as my fingers curled around his hardening length and stroked him in sync with the movement of my hips.

His hand found its way into my hair, gripping tightly as he rolled us over, his weight pressing me into the mattress. The sudden shift in power was thrilling, the warm summer air rushing over my now exposed skin as he peeled my shirt off.

Our kisses grew more frantic, our breathing ragged. The tension between us was palpable, a living force that seemed to charge the very air in the tent. He pulled away briefly, his eyes searching mine in the dim light, looking for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was want, a mirror to his own. With a growl, he kissed me again, his hand sliding down my side to the zipper of my pants.

I lifted my hips and he slid my jeans down in one fluid motion. My hand still wrapped around him tightened slightly, stroking him as his hips moved with mine.

"Take off your pants," my voice laced with want. I watched him kick his jeans off. He hovered over me, his muscles defined in the moonlight. I reached up, my hands tracing the lines of his shoulders, down his arms, and back up to his chest, feeling his heart pounding in sync with my own.

He chuckled low, the sound sending vibrations through my chest. He sat back on his heels and took his shirt off, tossing it aside. The sight of him, bare-chested and aroused, was almost too much to handle. I reached out and touched his chest, tracing the lines of his abs down to his cock, which stood proud and thick. I leaned in, my mouth watering, and took him in my mouth.

His fingers tangled in my hair, as I moved my lips and tongue over him. His cock throbbed in my mouth, and it only served to make me want him more. His breathing grew more ragged, and his hips bucked slightly, pushing him deeper into my mouth. The salty taste of him made me moan, the sound vibrating along his length.

"I want to feel you, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he pulled back. He leaned over and kissed me again, deep and claiming. My legs hooked around his hips and he lined himself up with my entrance. With one swift thrust, he entered me, filling me completely. I gasped into his mouth, the sensation of fullness overwhelming. He paused, giving me a moment to adjust, before he began to move again, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

I raked my nails down his back, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch. His thrusts grew deeper, more urgent, and I knew he was close. I felt the tension building within him, the way his grip on my hips tightened and his strokes grew erratic. I tightened my legs around him, urging him on, my own climax building. The world narrowed to just us, the soft rustle of the tent fabric, the crackle of the fire outside.

My walls pulsed around him as I reached the edge. His eyes dark, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he watched my face. Listened to every sound I made as I inched farther and farther over the edge. He slid in and out of me, each stroke hitting the perfect spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my core. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tightly in my belly, threatening to unravel at any moment.

"Ryan," I panted, my voice shaky with need. His eyes darkened, and he picked up the pace, driving into me harder. The sensation was too much, and I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me like a storm. I bit down on his shoulder to muffle my scream, my nails digging into his skin.

I felt him pulse inside me, the warmth of his release filling me as he buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His hips moved slower as my body clenched around him, draining him fully.

He groaned against my neck as he collapsed on top of me. "Baby," he muttered still coming down from his high, "you are almost too much when you get into a mood."

"Did you want to get back to your book?" I squeezed around him once more.

"Fuck that book," he smirked against my skin.

—

The morning sun peeked over the mountains, casting a warm golden light across the camp as I stepped out of my tent. Ryan was still sleeping, the steady rise and fall of his chest suggesting he was enjoying one of those rare mornings when he could actually sleep in. I let him have it, not wanting to disturb his peace just yet.

I glanced toward the edge of camp, where I saw Dad and Kayce both emerging from their tents, wearing that same stupid, satisfied grin I knew was plastered across my own face.

"Mornin'," I called out to them.

"Mornin'," Kayce replied with a chuckle.

From inside their tent, I heard Monica's voice, a little sleepier than usual. "Baby, come back to bed."

Kayce shot me a look, raising an eyebrow. "What time's breakfast?"

Lynell's voice echoed out from inside my father's tent, "John?"

"A little later this morning," Dad answered, his voice tinged with the usual dry humor.

I couldn't help but shake my head and smile. It was a quiet, simple morning, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this content.

Ryan's voice called from behind me, thick with that relaxed drawl of someone not quite awake but still wanting your attention. "Come back in here, baby."

I shot him a teasing look over my shoulder, watching as my father and brother slipped back into their tents, no doubt to continue their morning routines in their own way.

"See you then," I said, turning back to Ryan in the tent, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. And with one last glance at the peaceful scene around me, I ducked back inside, eager for the quiet to settle once more.

"You wanna come with us to the cattle auction?" Ryan yawned as he pulled me back in bed.

"That sounds like the strangest date I've ever been invited on," I rested my head on his chest.

"We're way past the dating phase, baby," he said.

I smiled against his skin, tracing lazy circles on his chest with my fingertips. "Guess that means I don't have to pretend to be impressed by the cows, huh?"

Ryan chuckled, his voice still thick with sleep. "Oh no, you definitely do. It's part of the deal."

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, amusement dancing in my eyes. "So, let me get this straight—you're inviting me to spend the day watching a bunch of cattle get paraded around, and I'm supposed to act like it's the most exciting thing I've ever seen?"

"Exactly," he smirked, fingers trailing down my spine. "And if you do a real good job of it, maybe I'll even buy you a corn dog."

I laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw before settling back against his chest. "Well, when you put it like that, how could I possibly say no?"

"See, winning you over and not even tryin' hard," he glanced at his watch, "we better get moving if we're gonna see the best cows."

Reluctantly I climbed out of bed and pulled my night shirt up over my head. Tossing it to the side before grabbing a fresh pair of jeans from my bag.

Ryan propped himself up on one elbow, eyes darkening as he watched me. "You know, baby, you make it real hard to leave this tent when you do that."

I smirked, shimmying into my jeans before reaching for a clean shirt. "And here I thought you were excited about those 'best cows.'"

"Oh, I am," he said, pushing the covers off and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Just thinkin' maybe we need a few more minutes before we go see 'em."

I shot him a knowing look as I pulled on my boots. "If we take a few more minutes, we're gonna miss the auction entirely."

Ryan sighed dramatically, standing and grabbing his own jeans. "Fine, but you owe me for that little tease."

I laughed, tossing his shirt at him. "I'll buy you a damn corn dog."

He grinned, pulling the shirt over his head. "Now that's romance."

We rode back to the barn in comfortable silence, the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves against the dirt filling the space between us. As the barn came into view, I swung out of the saddle and handed my reins to one of the ranch hands before making my way to the truck. I could feel Ryan's gaze lingering on me the whole time, a heat that settled low in my stomach.

I climbed into the passenger seat, buckling up before finally turning to him. "What is that look for?" I asked, catching the lazy grin tugging at his lips.

Colby and Teeter piled into the backseat, bickering about something, but Ryan didn't take his eyes off me.

"Just thinking about the way you put on your jeans, baby," he drawled, shifting the truck into gear. His smirk deepened. "Almost as much fun as watching you take them off."

I quirked a brow, fighting the smile threatening to form. "Really?"

He leaned back, his fingers drumming lazily against the steering wheel. "I said almost," he murmured, shooting me a knowing look.

From the backseat, Colby groaned. "For fuck's sake, can y'all stop flirting for five damn minutes?"

Teeter snorted. "Ain't gonna happen, baby."

Ryan just chuckled, shifting the truck onto the main road. He reached over, his fingers brushing over my knee before settling back on the wheel. "What can I say? Your man knows what he likes."

I rolled my eyes, but damn if I wasn't grinning the whole way there.

Lloyd and Rip went inside the auction house to bid on a group of cows. I made my way to the concession stand, buying a few corndogs for the group.

I handed out the corndogs, smirking as I watched Teeter lean in closer to Colby, who was looking more and more like he wanted to melt into the floor.

"So this is almost like a double date," I chuckled, taking a bite of my own corndog.

Colby shot me a glare. "The hell it is."

Teeter just grinned, completely unfazed. "Still tryin' to figure out if he likes girls," she said through a mouthful of fried batter. "Might still wanna pile-drive one of those boys in my posters."

Ryan, who had just taken a sip of his drink, choked. "What did she say?"

I patted his back, trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, cowboy."

Teeter shrugged, unbothered. "I'm just sayin', keepin' my options open."

Colby groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I swear to God, Teeter—"

Ryan leaned into me, shaking his head. "We need to get you some new friends, baby."

I just grinned, watching Teeter take another huge chomp out of her corndog while Colby debated throwing himself into oncoming traffic. "Oh, come on," I teased, nudging Ryan. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Hey, y'all," Rip called over, "let's get these cows loaded."

I tossed my trash in the bin and made it over to the pins. Rip pointed out which cows were ours to be loaded.

I leaned against the fence, arms folded, watching as Ryan and Colby worked the cattle into the waiting trailer. Their voices carried over the dusty air, sharp yips and calls guiding the herd.

"Hey, Colby! Get that Charolais—it ain't ours!" Rip's voice cut through the commotion, pointing at the light-colored cow pushing its way in with our heifers.

Colby spun, cursing under his breath as he tried to cut the cow off, but the damn thing was stubborn, dodging his attempts like it was enjoying the game.

Before I could even think about making a comment, Teeter was already in motion. With surprising agility, she hopped the fence and landed in the pen, boots kicking up dust as she charged toward the stray.

"Git, ya creamy son of a bitch!" she hollered, arms flailing as she tried to redirect it back where it belonged.

Ryan glanced at me, shaking his head with a grin. "You ever seen anyone handle a cow like that?"

I smirked. "I don't know what's funnier—the way she's doing it or the fact that it's actually working."

The Charolais huffed and finally turned, trotting back toward its rightful pen, with Teeter in hot pursuit, shouting a string of words I was pretty sure weren't real.

Colby wiped a hand down his face. "I swear to God, Teeter—"

She clapped him on the shoulder, smacking a little too hard. "You're welcome, baby."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Just another day at the office, huh?"

"We takin' them to the new pens?" I asked, already knowing it'd be my job to inspect them once we got there. With Jimmy out of commission, I'd lost my usual helper for the dirty work.

Rip nodded, wiping the sweat off his brow. "We'll be right behind y'all."

I climbed back into the passenger seat of the truck, the scent of dust and cattle thick in the air. Teeter and Colby piled into the back, the trailer rattling as the cows shifted inside.

"Y'know," Teeter started, kicking her boots up against the seat, "I ain't sayin' I should get a raise or nothin', but savin' y'all's asses back there should at least get me a free beer."

Colby snorted. "You can't charge for something you caused in the first place."

"I ain't the one who let a damn Charolais slip in with our heifers, Colby."

I smirked, buckling my seatbelt. "I'll buy you a beer if you volunteer to help me clean out the pens."

Teeter sat up a little straighter. "A six-pack, and I'll consider it."

Ryan chuckled, shaking his head as he started the truck. "Ain't no way in hell that's happenin', but nice try."

As we pulled away from the auction house, dust swirling in the rearview, I let my head fall back against the seat. The work wasn't done, not by a long shot, but at least it kept me too busy to overthink everything else.

Teeter shoved a wad of Skoal into her mouth, then casually snatched Colby's coffee cup and spit a stream of dark tobacco juice into it.

"You was done with that, wasn't ya?" she asked, smacking her lips.

Colby stared at the cup in horror. "I am now," he muttered, shaking his head.

Teeter grinned, completely unfazed. "How you doin' over there, baby?"

"Fine, thanks." His flat tone said otherwise.

She leaned closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. "'Cause you oughta be over here on mama's lap, but that's alright," she teased. "That's okay."

I caught Ryan glancing at them in the rearview, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and secondhand embarrassment. I couldn't hold back my laughter.

"Y'all think I'm joking," Teeter added, completely serious.

"No," Colby muttered, rubbing his temples. "Unfortunately, we don't."

The amusement in Ryan's face dropped when he looked ahead, "What in the fuck?"

There was a row of motorcycles lined against the fence, a group of bikers was drinking and lighting a campfire in the middle of the fucking field.

"They cut the fucking fence," I told him.

"It's too early to get in a fight," Colby slipped off his seatbelt. Knowing that's exactly what was about to happen. I climbed out with that same understanding.

"Stay in the truck, baby," Ryan stated.

"The fuck I am," I gave him a look that said there was no point in arguing.

"Hey, how you doing?" Ryan asked politely as we walked up to them. "Listen you can't be here. This is private property."

"This is a national park," the leader of the group said.

"That is national park," Ryan said pointing in the direction, "this is the Dutton Ranch."

"Sign says Yellowstone," the leader retorted. "With a big fucking Y on it."

"It's the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch," Ryan stated, "I need y'all to move across the road. Or I'm gonna have to cite you for trespassing." Ryan slipped his badge out from his shirt. Teeter and I stepped up closer, we knew this was not going to end with just a stern warning.

One of the ol' ladies was sizing me up. Another eyed Teeter.

"That badge says 'livestock agent'."

"That's right," Ryan responded.

"Oh it's the fucking cow police," the leader and his group laughed.

"Look if we all just take the testosterone level down about a dozen fucking notches," I stated, "this is my property and I want you gone. Now."

"Are you Yellowstone or Dutton, you hick ass whore?" the blonde ol' lady snapped at me. I felt my fists clench involuntarily at my sides.

"Look at this pink-haired hick mad dogging me," the ol' lady said that was eyeing Teeter. "You gotta problem bitch?"

"The fuck you just say to me," Teeter retorted.

"I called you a fucking bitch," before the last word fell from her lips Teeter swung.

It all went to hell in a heartbeat.

The leader barely had time to smirk before Teeter's fist connected with the ol' lady's jaw, sending her stumbling backward into the firelight. The moment she hit the dirt, chaos erupted.

"Goddamn it," Ryan muttered as the bikers surged forward.

I didn't hesitate. The blonde who called me a "hick ass whore" was already coming for me, nails bared like she was about to claw my damn eyes out. I met her halfway, ducking the first wild swing and slamming my fist into her stomach. She wheezed, doubling over, but I didn't give her a chance to recover before shoving her to the ground.

Colby and Teeter were already in the thick of it. Teeter had a death grip on the other woman's hair, throwing punches as the woman shrieked and clawed at her arms. Colby had squared off with one of the bikers, dodging a slow punch before landing one of his own.

Ryan, ever the gentleman, had given the leader a chance to walk away. "Get on your bikes and go before—"

The biker cut him off by throwing a punch.

Ryan ducked, countered, and drove his fist into the man's face. Blood sprayed as the leader's nose crunched under the impact. He went down hard, spitting curses as Ryan shook out his hand.

"You dumb son of a bitch," Ryan sighed.

I turned just in time to see another biker charging at Ryan from behind. "Ryan!" I shouted.

Too late.

The guy tackled him, sending them both crashing to the dirt.

I rushed toward them, but a hand fisted in my hair and yanked me back. The blonde had recovered.

"Alright, bitch," she hissed, "let's dance."

Oh, we were way past dancing.

I elbowed her hard in the ribs and twisted free, throwing a punch right into her smug, heavily-lined face. She staggered back, and I followed up with a second blow, sending her sprawling.

Teeter let out a war cry as she kicked her opponent square in the stomach, sending her crashing into a log. "Y'all picked the wrong goddamn one to fuck with!"

The sound of tires on gravel snapped my attention to the road.

Rip's truck crashed right through the line of bikes as the truck skidded to a stop.

I let out a breath, my lip curling into a grin. These assholes were about to learn what real trouble looked like. Rip and Lloyd climbed out of the truck, not before Rip grabbed the branding iron from the back.

The leader charged Rip. Rip countered with a heavy swing of the iron in his hand.

The biker staggered to his feet, blood trickling from a fresh gash on his cheek where Rip had clocked him with the branding iron. He spat a mouthful of red into the dirt, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Motherfucker," he growled, his eyes burning with fury. "You're a fucking dead man."

He yanked a knife from his belt, the steel glinting under the midday sun as he and another biker stormed toward Rip and Lloyd.

Colby, sensing the shift, acted fast—sweeping the legs out from under the second guy, sending him crashing into the dirt with a pained grunt.

Rip barely flinched as the leader lunged at him, sidestepping at the last second before swinging the branding iron again—this time catching him clean across the jaw. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the clearing, sending the biker stumbling backward, cursing through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, Lloyd twisted the knife-wielding biker's arm with practiced ease, forcing the guy to stab himself in his own ass. He let out a strangled yelp, dropping the blade as Lloyd shoved him to the ground with a smirk. "Dumbass," Lloyd muttered.

Then, the sharp click of a gun being cocked cut through the chaos.

"I'll fucking shoot you," one of the bikers snarled, his pistol aimed dead at Rip's unamused face.

Rip didn't even blink.

"It'll be the last fucking thing you ever do," Lloyd warned, his own gun already drawn, barrel locked on the biker's skull.

The man hesitated. Too long.

Rip seized the moment, grabbing the pistol from the biker's grip like he was taking a toy from a toddler. Then, with a vicious swing of the branding iron, he knocked the guy clean out.

"Too late," Rip muttered, stepping over his unconscious body.

The rest of the bikers were on the ground, groaning in pain, those still conscious throwing up their hands in surrender.

Rip wiped the blood off the branding iron against his jeans before turning his glare to one of the ol' ladies. "Which one of these assholes is the boss of you?"

She pointed a shaky finger at their leader, who was still clutching his battered face.

Rip stormed over, grabbed the bastard by the front of his vest, and hauled him upright. The man wobbled unsteadily, still dazed.

"I'm gonna give you one last chance," Rip said, voice low and full of menace. "You get the fuck outta here and don't come back. Or I'll bury you right where you fucking stand."

The leader didn't need to be told twice.

"Get the fuck outta here," Lloyd barked, waving his gun for good measure.

Scrambling to their feet, the bikers wasted no time stumbling toward their motorcycles, dragging their unconscious friends with them. They fired up their engines and peeled off, kicking up a cloud of dust in their retreat.

Silence settled over the field, broken only by the distant rumble of engines fading into the horizon.

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady my pulse. My knuckles ached from where I'd landed a few punches, adrenaline still surging through my veins.

Ryan's arm found its way around my waist. "You good, baby?"

I nodded, shaking out my hands. "Nothing a beer and a hot bath won't fix."

Rip sighed, shaking his head as he watched the dust cloud settle. "If those assholes come back, we don't let 'em leave walkin'."

Lloyd spat in the dirt, holstering his gun. "Damn right."

Colby groaned, rubbing his jaw. "Every time I hang out with y'all, I end up in a fight. Ain't no way this is normal."

Teeter grinned, slapping him on the back. "Normal's for city folk, baby."

Ryan chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Think that's enough excitement for one day?"

I exhaled, glancing at the bruised faces and bloodied knuckles of my crew. "Yeah," I admitted, "I think I've had my fill."

Rip clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You handled yourself alright."

I smirked up at him. "I do more than just ask too many damn questions."

"Colby, you alright?" I asked, glancing over at him as he flexed his fingers, wincing with the movement.

"I think I broke my hand," he muttered, his voice tight with pain.

"Well, I guess that's better than your heart," I said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll take a look at it when we get back."

Colby shot me a grin, despite the discomfort. "Guess it'll give me a reason to relax for once."

Ryan, still catching his breath from the chaos, looked over at Rip. "All we did was ask them to leave."

Rip nodded slowly, scanning the area. "You're alright?"

"Yeah, we're good," Ryan reassured him, his hand resting casually on the door of the truck.

Rip's gaze softened, but his next words were pointed. "You sure?"

Ryan nodded again, his jaw set. "We'll survive. It's just another day in the life."

"What about you, Teeter?" Rip asked, turning his attention to her as she wiped the blood from her lip. She flashed a grin, unfazed.

"That's fun," she said, spitting another mouthful of blood onto the dirt. "I think I'm gonna start a biker-wrangling side gig."

Rip shook his head with a chuckle, but his expression remained serious. "That's not what I'm talkin' about. You alright?"

"I'm fine," she shrugged, though she winced slightly as she shifted her weight. "Just need a cold drink."

I shot her a sidelong glance. "I can't think of anything better to have done this afternoon."

Teeter snorted a laugh. "Damn right. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Lloyd, who had been inspecting the damage to the fence, grunted. "You know when they come back here to pick up the rest of their bikes, they're gonna fuck this field up something fierce."

Rip's expression darkened, but he didn't seem surprised. "Probably so," he agreed. He slapped his hand on the truck, signaling that it was time to move on. "Let's go fix the fence. Come on."

We all piled into the truck, and as we headed toward the broken fence line, the adrenaline from the fight began to fade, leaving behind a tired but satisfying buzz. Rip drove with his usual intensity, but even he couldn't mask the slight edge of humor that had started to creep into his voice.

"You know," Rip said as he glanced at me, "we might just need to start charging for this kind of entertainment."

"I think I'd pay for the front-row seats," I teased, leaning back into my seat, exhaustion finally catching up to me.

Rip gave a low laugh. "Hell, at least it keeps things interesting."

As we drove through the ranch, past the quiet fields now littered with the aftermath of the chaos, I couldn't help but think about how much we'd fought for this land, this place. And no matter who tried to mess with it—whether they came in on foot, on bikes, or in fancy suits—there was always a reckoning waiting for them. No one messed with the Duttons and got away clean.

Not on my watch.