His grin is wicked. “I didn’t forget. You wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks.”
“Because it hurt!”
“Okay, okay.” He laughs. “But I’m not talking bronc. I know that’s a sore spot. And bull riding’s Joey’s thing; he’d lose his mind if you tried to outshine him. I mean team roping.”
I pause, leaning the pitchfork against the wall. “Team roping?”
“Yeah. Dad used to be a beast at it. You know that.”
“I know.” Memories flicker—Dad riding tall in the saddle, rope flying true, proud grin when he’d catch clean. “I’ve never thought about trying it.”
“Well,” Seth says, straightening, “maybe it’s time we carry on something. Doesn’t have to be big. Just a small event. Something for fun.”
I consider it. Me and Seth roping together. A little frightening. A lot tempting.
“Think we’d be any good?” I tease.
“Absolutely not,” he says instantly. “But we’d look cool trying.”
I laugh, the sound rough from a long day of dust and sweat.
He nudges me again. “You know… if you marry Sedona, she’ll be your cheerleader.”
“Look at you,” I say, smirking. “Already planning my family life.”
He shrugs, grabbing an armful of hay. “Been thinking about it.”
“You still seeing Willa?” I ask as I help him toss the hay into the last stall. I’m trying to be casual because Seth’s pretty private about his relationship.
All I know is that he’s been seeing the sheriff’s daughter for a couple of months now. Joey literally had to catch him sneaking her out before our brother even admitted to seeing her.
His face goes red instantly. “Not seriously.”
“So that’s a yes.”
He rolls his eyes. “We might go dancing tonight.”
I grin. “Have fun.”
“You should go dancing with Sedona. It’s been so long since I saw the two of you at The Dusty Boot.”
“Well, between her job and this ranch, we barely have time for dancing.” But my brother does have a point. I should take my girl out on a date soon.
“Make time,” he counters.
“I will,” I concede.
When we finish, the sky’s edging toward late afternoon. My shirt sticks to me, and my arms feel heavy from hauling and lifting all day. Seth waves, heading toward the house to clean up.
I rinse my hands at the pump, scrub the dirt from my nails, and splash cool water onto my face. I change into the clean flannel I keep in my truck and put on fresh jeans. By the time I drive toward the clinic, the shadows are long and the ranch hums with evening sounds.
Prairie Pine Veterinary Clinic sits right off the main road, a crisp white building with blue trim and a big sign shaped like a paw print out front.
The parking lot smells faintly of the livestock brought in daily. Wind chimes hang by the door, tinkling softly when I step inside.
The lobby’s warm and clean, decorated with wildflower art and an old quilt framed on the wall. A bulletin board near the desk is crowded with photos—goats, horses, dogs, barn cats, even the occasional raccoon someone nursed back to health.
Sedona’s in almost every other picture, smiling wide, freckles bright.
