Page 6 of Fall or Nothing

I laughed again, lighter this time. This tall, polished-looking, plant-knowing stranger was nothing like the cowboys Ivy pushed at me before. He was—definitely different in the best possible way.

I glanced toward the dance floor, then back at him, suddenly bold. “You know your way around herbs and gardens. Tell me you know how to two-step, and you’ll make my night.”

His grin turned sheepish and devastating all at once. “Sadly, I only know the foxtrot.”

A cowboy who doesn’t know the basic two-step? I bit my lip, fighting another smile. “That’s a shame.”

For a heartbeat, we stared at each other, the noisy pavilion fading around us. Caught in a magnetic pull unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

I was so focused on him, I’d hardly noticed Daisy and Ivy had left us. Couldn’t think of anything other than the man standing in front of me who had captured my full attention.

“Lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher. Give me five minutes and I’ll have you two-stepping like a pro,” I offered.

He suddenly straightened, clearing his throat like he’dremembered something. “Your cup is empty, Sage. Let me grab us a couple of fresh ciders. I’ll be right back.”

He touched the brim of his hat in a polite cowboy way—a hat I’d like to claim.Wear the hat, ride the cowboy, my friends always chimed. Hell yes, I’d take that ride. Ticket for one on the Carter train, please?

But he slipped into the crowd, leaving me standing there with warm cheeks, racing butterflies, and the distinct impression that my “sworn-off cowboys” rule had met its match.

I found Daisy nearby and slipped back to her side right as Chris Magnus took the stage, welcoming everyone to his Off-Duty Rescue Ranch and thanking all for coming out to support Sheriff Patrick’s reelection campaign. Then he introduced the sheriff. The crowd went crazy with applause and whistles when he took the stage.

One woman near us hollered, “My vote is for Sheriff Patrick. Lord knows we don’t need another Brewster running things around here.”

It was true. We already had to suffer with a dirty congressman like Bruce Brewster, and now his son, Trevor, vied for the top law enforcement position running against Sheriff Patrick.

I had to commend the Sheriff on his speech, which focused on his record and how people could trust him to do the job he’s already been doing. Then he talked about his father, the former sheriff, whose murder was an unsolved mystery.

“New information has come to light that connects my father’s case to other incidents in this county. I am officially reopening the investigation. Reelect me as Sheriff, and Silver County will have justice. You can count on me for that,” he finished.

Daisy squeezed my hand, and we shared a look. His words landed heavier than they might have a few months ago, because my sisters and I had been the ones to find our Dad’s old notebooks while cleaning out our attic, where some interesting journal entries came to light. When she told the sheriff about them, he realized they could be clues to his father’s case.

For a moment, a shadow passed through Daisy’s eyes. Most people might blink and not see it, but I was always very observant when it came to my sisters. A shiver went down my spine along with the feeling that something else was going on. Something she wasn’t admitting, but that was typical of her, always taking on everything alone, trying to be the strong one for us.

It had been a long fall, and a hard one in some respects.

At least the harvest had been good. The apple orchard had given us more than we’d hoped for, and for a while, that would be enough to steady us. But standing with her, I couldn’t help thinking how fragile it all could be.

The applause rose louder around us. Chris’s wife, famed country singer Nicoletta, took the stage next. Her voice was full of energy as she kicked off the celebration with her music, urging everyone onto the dance floor.

“Where’s your new cowboy?” Daisy asked.

“Carter went to get us drinks,” I said, trying—and failing—to sound casual. “I’m not sure he’s mine yet, but isn’t he cute? And that accent…” I fanned myself.

Daisy’s attention drifted, her gaze locking onto Knox across the pavilion. No matter how hard these two tried,they couldn’t hide their feelings for each other from the rest of us.

I nudged her shoulder gently. “Knox is right there. Go to him. You know you want to.”

She laughed, nervous and breathless, and I gave her a small push in his direction.

“Go, Daisy. Just… have fun.” I turned her words back on her. He met her halfway, like they’d both been circling this moment for months and were finally willing to accept the truth between them.

He wrapped his arms around her and swayed to the music. Ivy danced with Colt nearby. Poppy hung out with her college friends, flirting with some of the ranch hands. Maybe I needed to stop thinking something bad could happen and instead believe that things could turn out okay for us Wylde sisters.

Now, where was Carter? I’d love to teach him the finer points of two-stepping. A quick scan of the crowd, craning my neck toward the cider table, turned up no-one looking like the gorgeous cowboy.

He probably got roped into doing shots somewhere with the ODRR guys. I wouldn’t put it past these former military men to steal away somewhere for their own “refreshments.”

I roamed through the crowd for another fifteen minutes. Twenty. He could have gotten lost and couldn’t find his way back to me—or worse, distracted by another woman. By the time thirty minutes had passed, my excuses for him fell thin.