I leaned against the bunkhouse bathroom door, watching the guys go through their morning routines. The sound of water running, the buzz of razors, and the occasional muttered curse filled the air.

Teeter was standing in front of the mirror, shaving her underarms with a casual confidence that made Ryan shift uncomfortably beside her.

"Teeter, please," Ryan muttered, trying to stay focused on brushing his teeth, but his eyes kept darting to her.

"Oh, baby likes 'em smooth," Teeter replied without missing a beat, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips as she continued what she was doing, completely unbothered.

"Well, go shave over 'baby,'" Ryan grumbled, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"It ain't your fucking sink," Teeter shot back, still focused on the task at hand. "Don't you have your own sink over yonder?" She motioned to the direction of our cabin.

"I was wondering why he's doing this here," I chimed in from the doorway, crossing my arms. "Instead of there. But hey, who am I to get in the way of his oral hygiene."

Lloyd brushed past me, heading straight into the bathroom. "Happy birthday, Lloyd," I said, smirking as I watched him navigate the crowded space.

"Oh, hey," Jake said from the corner, grinning, "It's your big day."

"How old are you now, Lloyd?" Ryan asked, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. "Is the big seven-oh?"

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, giving Ryan a look. "Does this look like the face of a seventy-year-old?" He turned his face toward the mirror, checking himself out.

"To me, yeah," Ryan shot back, causing everyone to laugh.

"Here's a mirror," Colby said, holding one out to Lloyd. "Check it out yourself."

Teeter gave Ryan a shove as she moved past him, rolling her eyes. "Don't listen to a word these assholes are saying," she said. "You keep doing pushups every morning, and you're gonna live to be a hundred."

"I agree with Teeter," Ryan said, his grin widening. "He does look about a hundred."

"That ain't what I fucking said!" Teeter shouted back, her voice full of indignation as she continued her grooming routine.

From inside the shower, Walker's voice rang out, dripping with impatience. "How long does it take y'all to brush your fucking teeth?"

I grabbed a towel from the rack and walked over to the shower stall. "Do you need a towel?" I called through the curtain. "Don't worry, I've seen a dick before."

"I need some fucking privacy," Walker muttered.

Jake, ever the comedian, called out from the other side of the room, "Don't be ashamed of what God gave ya!"

"Yeah, there's no little people in the world," Ryan added, laughing, "Just little dicks."

I shook my head, smiling as I grabbed another towel from the shelf. I passed it over the top of the shower curtain. "Here's two," I said, handing them through. "Just in case."

"Will you sumbitches just give me some time in here by myself?" Walker growled from behind the curtain.

Ryan, who'd apparently had enough of the banter, yanked the curtain open as Walker and Laramie both wrapped towels around themselves.

"Welcome back," I greeted Laramie with a grin, my tone teasing. "Congrats on the win in Redding."

"Thanks, girl," Laramie said, flashing a smile. Then she turned to Lloyd. "Happy birthday, Lloyd. I hope it's a good one."

"If mine ends the way yours began," Lloyd said with a wink, "it will be."

Everyone broke into laughter, the tension in the room lifting for a moment as we continued to rib each other and enjoy the usual banter.

"Having a barrel racer for breakfast, I see," Ryan teased, smirking at Walker.

Walker just grunted, tightening the towel around his waist as Laramie smirked beside him.

I slid my hand into Ryan's, tugging him toward the door. "You play your cards right, cowboy," I murmured, throwing him a teasing smile, "you can have a trick rider for lunch."

Rip was wishing Lloyd a happy birthday as we stepped back into the main room of the bunkhouse.

"How old is he, anyway?" Colby asked, glancing at Rip.

"Fifty-eight," Rip answered.

"Fifty-eight?" Colby and Ryan echoed at the same time.

"Accelerated aging," Ryan added with a smirk. "I saw something about that on TV."

I shook my head, turning to Lloyd. "Gator said he'll make whatever you want for supper."

"Steaks," Lloyd answered without hesitation.

"That's what I figured," I said, wrapping my arms around the old cowboy in a quick hug.

"We're prowling pairs," Rip stated, "Let's go."

I had just mounted my horse, ready to head out to the field, when a Fish and Wildlife trailer rolled up the drive. I pulled back on the reins, watching as two agents climbed out.

"Morning," the first agent said, looking up at me.

"Morning," I returned. "Can I help you?"

"We pulled a radio collar out of the Yellowstone River," he said, holding up a plastic evidence bag. "GPS shows the animal was on your ranch for three days before heading back to the park—then somehow ended up in the river."

I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of animal are we talking about?"

"A wolf," the second agent answered.

I glanced toward the barn before responding. "Haven't seen any wolves around." Turning in the saddle, I called out, "Hey, Rip! You or the boys seen any wolves lately?"

Rip stepped out of the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. "I mean, they're always around, but we don't see 'em much."

"You calving?" the first agent asked.

"Finished last month," Rip replied.

The agent studied both of us, something calculating in his expression. "But no wolves?"

"The pairs are kept close this time of year," I said smoothly.

"You mind if we ride out and follow the last known path of that wolf?" the agent asked.

I arched a brow. "Didn't you just say it ended up in the river?"

The second agent stepped forward. "We haven't found the wolves—just the collar. It was wrapped around a log."

Fuck. I kept my face unreadable.

"That sounds like poachers," Rip said, his tone flat.

"Sure does," the agent agreed, eyes sharp.

"Care to ride with us?" the second agent asked, though the way he said it made it clear it wasn't really a question.

Rip barely hesitated. "No, we've got work to do."

The agent gave a slow nod. "That sounded like a question, but it wasn't."

Tension crackled in the air as we stared each other down. I kept my posture easy, my hands relaxed on the reins, but my mind was already turning over the implications.

The ride out to the pasture was quiet. I didn't exchange looks with them or Rip for fear the agents would pick up on the tension that was present. We had to try and keep this quiet. Park wolves being killed on our land wouldn't be a good look for my father.

"Why would you plow this?" the agent asked as we reached the site where the wolves had been. His boots crunched against the freshly turned soil, his gaze sweeping the expanse of land.

"To plant hay," Rip answered, his tone flat.

The agent frowned. "You need to plant hay out here?"

"Best hay grass in the world grows in this valley," Rip stated, matter-of-fact.

"We use an alfalfa mix for the horses," I added, shifting in my saddle. "Replant every five years to keep it fresh."

The second agent walked further into the plowed field, kicking at the dirt. "They held up here during the day," he said, scanning the ground. "Gathered here at night—behavior consistent with feeding."

Rip looked around, unimpressed. "I don't see much to eat."

"Right here," the agent pointed.

Rip barely spared it a glance. "If you say so."

"Computer says so," the agent corrected, tapping his GPS unit.

I snorted. "Oh, the GPS says so? That thing stranded me in the middle of fucking nowhere once, had me turn six miles too soon. Had to call him—" I tilted my head toward Rip, "—to come get me."

The first agent ignored my jab. "They went off that way," he said, pointing toward the distant ridge. "Over the mountain and into the river. We're gonna follow the path."

Rip gave a slow nod. "Be my guest. This is as far as I go."

I let out a short laugh. "I'm not going up that mountain. Best of luck to you."

The agent turned to his partner. "What side of the river is that on?"

Rip didn't miss a beat. "The wrong side for you."

The second agent exhaled sharply. "We can fly it in a chopper."

"Good idea," I said, giving him a nod before nudging my horse around. "Let us know how that goes."

Rip and I turned back toward the barn, leaving them to their search. If they wanted to chase ghosts through the mountains, that was their problem.

—-

We sat around the card table after finishing off Lloyd's birthday dinner. The bunkhouse smelled of steak and whiskey, the kind of simple celebration that suited the old cowboy just fine.

Beth, on the other hand, looked downright exasperated as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching us with thinly veiled impatience. She came to the bunkhouse looking for a party, and from the way she was shifting her weight, this wasn't it.

Lloyd's idea of a party was the same thing we did every night—cards, booze, and shit-talking. No one else had a better idea, so that's what we were doing. And honestly? I was content. My cowboy's arm draped lazily around my waist as he gambled away this week's wages, utterly unbothered.

Beth exhaled sharply. "Is this how you celebrate a birthday?"

"Yes," Colby answered without looking up from his cards.

"Don't you do this shit every night?" she pressed.

"Yep," Ryan replied, just as nonchalant.

"Pretty much," Jake added.

Beth rolled her eyes before zeroing in on Lloyd. "How old are you anyway?"

"He's 85," Colby quipped.

"I'm 58, asshole," Lloyd corrected, shooting him a glare.

Beth smirked. "That's a pretty big birthday. Alex, don't you think that's a pretty big birthday? Shouldn't it be celebrated right?"

I glanced over at her. "It is a big deal," I admitted, already wary of where this was going. "What do you have in mind?"

"Why don't we go to a bar in Bozeman?" she suggested.

Ryan sat up straighter, looking at her like she'd just asked him to fly to the damn moon. "That is a terrible idea."

"I think it's an excellent idea," she countered, then turned to me. "Don't you, Alex?"

I hesitated. "I mean… it's not the worst idea."

"The bars in Bozeman, Beth," Rip interjected, his tone carrying a warning, "are full of tourists and fake cowboys."

"At least my boots don't stick to the floor there," I pointed out.

Beth wasn't giving up. "Fine, we'll go to a real cowboy bar."

Rip snorted. "Those don't exist anymore, honey. You put real cowboys—" he gestured to the table, "—in the same room as fake ones, and they'll end up fighting. And we don't need fighting."

"It's a bad idea every time," Colby agreed.

I smirked. "I don't know… you two," I motioned between Ryan and Colby, "end up in fights no matter where we go."

Beth waved off the concern. "We'll be home before midnight. Nothing bad happens before midnight."

"That's gremlins, Beth," I chuckled. "Not bars."

Rip's voice was firm. "Beth. I said no."

I barely held back a laugh when Beth, unbothered as ever, fired right back, "Oh, you said no, huh? Well, I guess that settles it. I'm buying, boys."

Shaking my head, I pushed back from the table and headed toward the cabin to change, quirking a brow at Rip as I passed. "You said no?"

He gave me a look, already regretting his words.

"…Might've been a poor choice."

I'd dressed in a pair of dark-wash jeans, the pockets studded with just enough rhinestones to catch the light when I moved. My low-cut white halter hugged every curve, the fabric soft against my skin, dipping just enough to be daring but not reckless. On my feet, I slipped into glittering white boots—made for dancing, not riding. The whole look was a touch outside my comfort zone, but not so far that I didn't feel like myself.

As I adjusted my necklace in the mirror, I heard Ryan's voice float up the steps.

"You ready to go, baby?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." I took one last glance at my reflection, then headed down.

The moment I stepped into view, his gaze locked onto me, darkening with something unreadable—something that sent a thrill down my spine.

I stopped on the last step, tilting my head. "Do I look okay?"

His jaw worked for a second before he exhaled, shaking his head. "I don't think I want to let you leave looking like that."

I frowned, glancing down at myself. "What do you mean? What's wrong with what I have on?"

His eyes dragged over me again, slower this time. "Nothing," he admitted. "That's the problem."

Realization flickered, and I smirked, stepping off the last step and closing the space between us. "Guys are gonna look, huh?"

Ryan's hand landed on my hip, his grip firm. "Damn right they will."

I traced my fingers up his chest, playful. "So what if they do?" My brow arched. "You're the guy I'm coming home with."

That earned me a low chuckle, though his grip didn't ease. "Yeah, well… doesn't mean I have to like it."

I leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back with a teasing smile. "Then you better keep me close, cowboy."

His gaze flickered with something possessive, but he let out a resigned sigh, his thumb brushing over my hip. "Don't think I'll have much of a choice."

I let Ryan open the passenger door for me, a small but sweet gesture that made the night feel a little more like a date. As I slid into the seat, Colby and Teeter were already in the back, making themselves comfortable.

Colby sighed dramatically, leaning his head back against the seat. "We're gonna get into a fight. I already know it."

I glanced back at him with an amused shake of my head. "You all need self-control. Just don't let what people say get to you. Let it go and walk away."

Colby snorted like I'd just told him to lasso the moon. "Yeah, that's real easy when some jackass is running his mouth."

Ignoring him, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small jar. "Hey, Teeter, you want some body glitter?"

Her eyes lit up as I smoothed a shimmering layer over the exposed skin of my chest, then handed her the jar.

"Gimme some of that shit." She grabbed it eagerly, rubbing a generous amount over her collarbones before turning toward Colby with a teasing smirk. "What do you think, baby?"

Colby gave her a once-over, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged. "Great."

I grinned, leaning back into my seat. "So if you're wearing it tomorrow, I'll know you two had a good time."

Ryan chuckled beside me, his hand resting casually on my thigh as he pulled the truck out onto the road. His glance slid to mine, warm and knowing. "Don't I know it."

Beth gave me an approving once-over as I climbed down from the truck, her lips curving into a rare grin. "Love the Cowboy Barbie look," she said. "Come on, let's dance and have fun."

It wasn't often I got to see Beth let loose. She always kept that side of herself separate from me, guarded and sharp-edged. So I let her have this one. She'd be back to making my life hell by morning.

Rip had been right about the bar. One glance around told me everything I needed to know—plenty of wannabe cowboys, all boots and no real grit. Their hats were crisp, their jeans were too clean, and not a single one of them smelled like horse sweat and leather. Just the type Beth loved to toy with.

I followed her through the crowd to the bar, where she leaned in confidently. "Start a tab," she told the bartender, sliding her gold card across the counter. "All these cowboys are gonna be on it. Start with a dozen whiskey shots and a dozen beers."

Then she glanced at me, remembering that whiskey was never my drink of choice. "And get her a piña colada. Double shot of rum."

The bartender wiped his hands on a rag and nodded. "We've got a special on tequila shots."

Beth arched a brow. "Do I look like I'm on spring break?"

He didn't argue, just started pouring whiskey.

Beth passed the shots around, her smirk widening as the guys grabbed their glasses. The night was just getting started, and judging by the gleam in her eyes, she was about to make damn sure it'd be a memorable one.

"This is a terrible idea," Colby muttered before tossing back his shot, wincing as the whiskey burned its way down.

"Awful," Ryan agreed, shaking his head as he took his own.

I smirked, swirling my drink before taking a slow sip. The smooth sweetness of coconut and pineapple barely masked the punch of rum as it glided down my throat. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Back in the barn," Colby shot back. "This is probably the worst idea of the year."

"Probably," Ryan echoed, his gaze flicking down to me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

I laced my fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle tug. "Come on, dance with me, cowboy."

Ryan exhaled like a man who knew better but didn't stand a chance of saying no. "You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured, but he was already letting me lead him toward the dance floor.

I smiled up at Ryan as his hands settled on my waist, warm and steady, while mine rested lightly on his chest. We swayed to the rhythm of the upbeat country song, our movements easy, natural—like we'd been dancing together for years.

His gaze flickered, shifting past me for just a second, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. I didn't have to turn around to know what he'd seen. Some guy, staring a little too long, a little too hard, as he walked by.

I tipped my chin up, catching Ryan's attention again. "Keep your eyes on me, cowboy," I murmured, pressing a little closer. "Let them look. I'm yours, and that's all that matters."

Ryan's lips curved into that easy smile I loved, but the glint in his eye held something else—something possessive, protective. "You'd claw a woman's eyes out if she was looking at me the way that guy was looking at you," he teased.

I laughed softly, tilting my head. "That's where you're wrong."

His brow arched. "Oh yeah?"

"I wouldn't have to," I said, voice steady, certain. "Because I know no woman has a chance at stealing you away from me, no matter how hard they looked."

His arms tightened just a fraction, the music blurring into a soft hum as he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You're damn right about that."

I glanced around the dance floor, spotting couples mingling and swaying in time with the music—Laramie and Walker, Colby and Teeter, Rip and Beth. It was almost surreal, but we'd found our person. The one we'd choose every time.

"Having fun?" I asked, my voice teasing but warm.

"Maybe," he said with a mischievous grin, pulling me closer, his chest pressing lightly against mine.

I could feel the heat between us intensify, but the night was far from over.

"You wanna grab another drink?" I asked, running my fingers along the crease of his shirt, a subtle invitation to keep the night rolling.

"Yes," he chuckled, his lips brushing against my temple as he pulled me toward the bar. "Definitely yes."

I led Ryan to the bar, Colby and Teeter trailing behind us like a small parade of troublemakers.

"Three more whiskeys and three more beers for my friends here," I told the bartender, keeping my voice steady despite the growing heat in my cheeks from the attention I was getting. "Can you make me a buttery nipple? Put it on the Dutton tab."

"Sure thing," the bartender said, his tone casual. "But I need to see some ID first."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress my irritation. "Look, man, I turned 21 a long time ago," I said, holding his gaze. "I swear."

"Sorry, ma'am," he replied, "still need to see it."

A sigh escaped my lips. I wasn't about to make a scene, but this was getting old. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my driver's license and slid it across the bar with an exaggerated slowness, hoping that would hurry him up.

"Elsa Alexandria Dutton?" he read aloud, clearly letting the name hang in the air for the group to hear.

I cut my eyes to Colby, who was trying to suppress a smirk. "Can you just pour the fucking shots already?" I snapped, my patience starting to wear thin. "One word about it, Colby, and I will gut you in your sleep."

"I thought you said we should just 'Let it go,'" Colby chuckled, his voice light but teasing. "You sure you're the forgiving type?"

Teeter snickered under her breath while Ryan, ever the good sport, just squeezed my hand and raised an eyebrow at the bartender, silently urging him to do his job.

The bartender slid the shots and beers across the bar, his movements smooth and practiced.

Teeter eyed my drink, curiosity getting the best of her. "What's in that?"

"Butterscotch schnapps, vodka, and Irish cream," I explained, bringing the shot to my lips. The liquid flowed smoothly down my throat, a sweet, warming sensation spreading through me. I glanced back at the bartender. "You want one?"

Without waiting for a reply, I added, "Two more of these."

He filled the glasses with precision, sliding them toward us with a practiced ease. I clinked my glass against Teeter's, and we both downed them in one go.

Teeter wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes lighting up. "That's good," she said with a grin.

Ryan, ever the cautious one, leaned in, his voice low and a little concerned. "Better slow down a little, baby."

I shot him a playful look, feeling the buzz begin to take hold. "You're driving," I said with a smirk, already knowing it was going to be a long night, but that was part of the fun.

I dragged Ryan back out onto the dancefloor, wrapping my arms around his neck as my body pressed close to his. I stood on my toes and brushed my lips against his in a long, lingering kiss, feeling the heat between us flare up in an instant.

"You're almost too much, baby," he murmured against my lips, his voice low and rough.

"I think you can handle me," I replied, a teasing smile tugging at my lips as I settled back on my feet.

"You know I can," he said with a grin, his hand sliding down to give my ass a playful squeeze.

The move sent a spark of electricity through me, and I couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling the pull between us grow stronger. It was exactly the kind of night I was looking for.

I scanned the bar, taking in the chaotic mix of people, searching for our group. I spotted Beth and Teeter in the middle of the dance floor, laughing and moving to the rhythm of the music. They looked carefree, and for a moment, I envied their ability to let loose. My eyes shifted to the other side of the room. Rip was standing near the wall, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observed the crowd, his presence commanding even without him saying a word.

But then, I saw her. A drunk woman, swaying as she made her way over to Rip. She was overly confident, pressing her body against his with a lecherous grin. It was obvious she wasn't taking "no" for an answer.

Rip's eyes hardened for a second, then his hand shot out, pointing directly at Beth across the room, the silent warning clear. I'm with her, his body language said. There was no mistaking it, and yet, the woman didn't seem to get the hint. Instead, she smirked and turned, stumbling toward Beth with some kind of snide remark hanging on her lips.

The next thing I saw, Beth swung a bottle at the woman's face with a precision that left me breathless. The glass shattered as it connected, the loud crash reverberating through the bar. The drunk woman stumbled back, clutching her face in shock, but the damage was done.

Bouncers rushed in, seizing Beth and pulling her away from the woman in a swift, brutal move. They held her in a chokehold, trying to subdue her while the woman recovered from the blow. But that wasn't the end of it.

Lloyd, who had been quietly observing the scene, seemed to snap. He rushed in, his fist flying, landing a solid hit on one of the bouncers. His punch didn't land without consequence. The moment it did, all hell broke loose. The bar erupted into a frenzy of fists and shouting. People were thrown into each other, chairs overturned, glasses crashing to the floor.

Ryan stepped in front of me instinctively, eyes scanning the chaos. "We need to get out of here," he said, his voice low and firm. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the chaos unfolding before me. Beth, now fully in the fight, was already struggling against the bouncers, her fire not easily extinguished.

Teeter was trying to pull Beth away, but it was a losing battle. The bouncers were struggling to contain her, and every second the fight seemed to escalate further. Colby was trying to break through the crowd, pushing his way toward Lloyd, who was now tangled up with another bouncer. Rip was right in the middle of it all, calmly shoving people out of his way as if he was used to this kind of madness.

I knew we needed to leave before things got worse, but it felt like the entire place had descended into madness, with no one willing to back down. The noise was deafening, and I could feel my pulse quicken as the fight raged on. I was torn—part of me wanted to run, to get away from the violence, but another part of me couldn't tear my eyes away from the chaos, wondering just how much further this was going to go.

Rip's grip on Beth tightened as he hauled her away from the chaos, her body limp in his arms, though her defiant smirk never wavered. It wasn't until we reached the front door that I noticed the flashing blue lights already lighting up the street, casting a harsh, sickly glow across the parking lot. The cops were already there, and it wasn't long before we were ordered to line up against the wall.

I let out a frustrated breath as the officer cuffed Beth, securing her hands behind her back. She didn't seem to care. In fact, her smirk only grew wider as she was shoved into the back of the squad car, her head held high like she was some sort of martyr.

I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off the headache forming as the flashing lights pulsed in my vision. It felt like the entire night was collapsing around us, and I couldn't stop it. This wasn't how any of us had imagined the evening going.

"You know who that is, right?" Rip's voice was steady, but the undertone of anger was unmistakable as he approached the officer, a glare aimed at the back of the squad car where Beth was now seated.

The officer didn't even look up at him. "I know exactly who that is," he replied, his tone flat and dismissive. "And you need to stop worrying about her and start worrying about yourself."

Rip took a step closer, his jaw tightening. "The fucking bouncer had her in a chokehold. All 110 pounds of her. What would you do if that was your fuckin' wife?"

The officer paused for a beat, glancing back at Beth, who was still grinning like she had won some kind of victory. "Look, I hear you," he said, his voice softer now. "But this ain't the old fuckin' days. The new sheriff, he doesn't put up with this shit."

Rip's face darkened, his frustration boiling over, but he held himself back. "Alright, alright," he muttered, running a hand over his face. He wasn't getting anywhere, and he knew it. The night had gone from bad to worse, and it seemed like no matter what we said, it wouldn't change the outcome.

I looked over at Ryan, who had been silently watching the exchange. His eyes flicked back to me, his expression hard, and I knew he was just as pissed off as I was. But none of us had control over this anymore. We were stuck.

Beth remained unfazed in the back of the squad car, her eyes never leaving Rip's as the officer slammed the door shut. There was nothing we could do now but wait for whatever came next. And judging by the way this night had gone, I had a feeling things were just getting started.

The new sheriff, a tall man with a square jaw and cold eyes, stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Rip. "You decided to come to town and toss the entire bar, I see," he said, his voice flat and authoritative.

Rip didn't flinch. His posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. "You put your hands on my wife," he said, his tone a low growl. "You get the horn."

I couldn't help but add fuel to the fire. "The fucking bouncer had her in a chokehold," I snapped, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

The sheriff's eyes flicked toward me briefly before he turned his attention back to Rip. "I could charge every one of you with battery," he said, his voice thick with irritation.

Rip's lips twitched into a tight smile. "You could charge the whole fucking bar if you like," he shot back, his voice laced with a mocking edge.

The sheriff, not one to back down easily, ran a hand over his face. "You and the rest can go," he said, clearly exasperated. "But she hit that girl in the head with a bottle."

I couldn't keep my disbelief in check. "Come on, really?" I called out, unable to contain my frustration. "She was defending herself. The woman was practically all over Rip."

The sheriff's eyes never wavered. "That is aggravated assault," he stated, as though it were a fact he'd already sealed in his mind.

Rip's voice turned sharper, a little more dangerous. "Is she even gonna fucking press charges?"

Just then, the woman, blood dripping from her nose, looked at the sheriff with a vindictive smile. "You bet your fucking ass I'm pressing charges," she spat out, her voice seething with anger. I couldn't stop myself from smirking as I watched the blood trickle down her face—she had definitely fucked with the wrong one.

The sheriff didn't miss a beat. He moved to the squad car, his boots echoing on the pavement as he slid open the door. He read Beth her Miranda rights, his voice hard and impersonal.

Beth's eyes burned with fury as she stared down the woman, who was now standing with her back to the squad car. "You're fucking kidding?" Beth spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're pressing charges, you fucking pussy, huh?"

The woman's grin twisted into something spiteful. "I hope you die in there, you bitch," she shouted back, her voice laced with venom.

That was the final straw.

My blood felt like it was boiling, every inch of my body ignited with the need to lash out. My fists clenched tight as I took a step forward, ready to charge at the woman and show her what it felt like to fuck with the wrong person. But before I could move any further, I felt two strong arms block my path—Ryan and Rip, both stepping in front of me, their bodies solid and unyielding.

"Baby, you can't do anything if you're locked up with her," Ryan muttered, his voice a calm contrast to the seething anger in mine.

I was on the edge, my entire body vibrating with frustration, but they were right. As much as I wanted to lay into that woman, getting myself arrested wasn't going to do anyone any good. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I forced myself to take a step back.

The squad car pulled off into the night, its sirens cutting through the air as it disappeared down the road. But not before Beth, with one final middle finger raised high, flipped the woman off, her expression as defiant as ever.

"Damn right," I muttered under my breath, watching the brake lights fade into the distance.

"Shit," Rip muttered, his frustration evident as he looked toward the empty road. "Alright, come on, let's go."

It was a slow walk back to the parking lot, the weight of the night settling in with each step. The adrenaline that had carried us through the chaos was quickly wearing off, and now all that was left was the mess we had to deal with.

Colby and Teeter climbed into the back seat, the silence between them heavy. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and unspoken. Ryan opened the door for me, his hand lingering for a moment, making sure I was steady before I slid into the passenger's seat. It felt almost comforting, the familiarity of it, even after everything that had gone down.

Once we were settled, Ryan didn't waste any time. He pulled out of the parking lot, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his jaw tight.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Colby muttered from behind me, his voice low but sharp.

"I know," I sighed, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the darkened streets as they blurred past. "I just wish you weren't right."

It was a quiet ride home after that, each of us lost in our own thoughts, the weight of the night's events pressing down on us. No one had the energy to argue anymore, and as the headlights of the truck sliced through the dark, I couldn't help but wonder if any of us would be able to shake off the mess we'd just made.

—-

"Are you ok?" I asked Ryan, my voice soft as we walked into the cabin, the door shutting behind us with a quiet thud.

"I'm fine, baby," he said, his tone steady but tinged with the weariness of the night. He rubbed his jaw, glancing back toward the door. "Next time we go out though, remind me not to invite your sister."

I couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension from the night still hanging in the air. "I'll make a point of that," I said, toeing off my boots and kicking them to the side before settling onto the couch.

Ryan followed me, sinking beside me with a deep sigh, his body heavy with exhaustion. I let my fingers trace lightly over his reddened knuckles, where the aftermath of the fight left its mark. "You sure you're okay?" I asked quietly, my thumb brushing over the bruising skin.

"I'll be fine," he replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Just didn't expect that shit to blow up the way it did."

"I had a good time until shit happened," I said, leaning against him, my body fitting against his like it belonged there. "But I like having you here all to myself."

Ryan's arm draped around my shoulders pulling me closer, "I'm glad you do, cause I'm not planning on taking you to a bar again any time soon."

"What if I want to dress up and go out?" I asked him.

"We can go anywhere else, movie, dinner, baseball game, whatever you want," he said, "Just not a fucking bar. Nothing good happens there."

I smirked, tilting my head up to look at him. "You sound like an old man, you know that?"

Ryan chuckled, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm. "Nah, just a man who's learned his lesson."

I sighed dramatically, leaning into him. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that movie and dinner. And maybe a baseball game too."

Ryan stood up and held his hand out to me, "Common, baby. Let me get you out of those jeans. I've been thinking about doing that since you walked down the steps."

"Have you?" I raised a brow placing my hand in his.

His grip tightened around mine as he pulled me up, his other hand already settling on my hip. "You know I have," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

I smirked, stepping in closer so our bodies brushed. "And here I thought you were too busy worrying about bar fights and bad decisions."

Ryan chuckled, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. "I can multitask, baby."

I let out a soft laugh, trailing my fingers up his chest. "Well, in that case… I'd hate to keep you waiting."