Page 79 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"You do," she said, softer now. "You're good and kind and honest. Those qualities are rare these days."

"Too honest."

"Okay, yes," she admitted. "Sometimes you need a filter. A tiny, very necessary filter, installed between your brain and your mouth."

He sighed. "I'm a mess."

"You're a loveable mess," Vivi said and meant it—more than she might have a month ago, before Bridlewood had gotten under her skin in ways she hadn't planned on. Before she'd learned that loveable messes were sometimes the most real people in the room. "You're rusty, not hopeless. Next time, no ex-wife memoirs, no groin-related war stories, and absolutely zero mention of popsicle-stick splints."

He nodded miserably. "Got it."

"And when you get nervous, ask her questions,” she added, tapping his chest lightly “Let her talk. You don't need to fill every silence with whatever that was."

Spud cracked a small, real smile. "You think I'll get a next time?"

Vivi squeezed his arm. "With Judy? No. With someone else and me running your dating life? Absolutely. I am not letting you go down like the Titanic again."

She said it with confidence the way she always did when it came to her professional life. She just wished that she felt half as certain about her personal life.

CHAPTER 31

Once Boone stepped into the law office of Owen Bradley, Esquire—still clutching a stack of his granddad's old papers. He knew this was a damn Hail Mary and that Owen would take one look, arch an eyebrow all lawyer-like, and Boone would become the punchline of every ranch-side poker game from Bridlewood to the county line.

Realizing he'd flown in half-cocked and three-quarters stupid, Boone spun on his heel to leave when⁠—

"Callahan? What the hell?"

He froze. Owen's voice cut across the room like a blade and Boone turned slowly, letting out a low groan.

At six-foot-two and annoyingly put-together, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Boone's saddle, Owen Bradley strode toward him with all the smooth confidence of a man who no longer needed to scrape shit off his boots before breakfast. His polished shoes clicked against the hardwood like small, well-dressed judgments.

"Look at you, trying to ghost me like I'm a one-night stand who asked about feelings," Owen said, million-dollar smile flashing.

Boone had spent the entire drive talking himself into turning around. Two other lawyers in Bridlewood had already told him he was wasting his time and money, and he didn't want to look like a fool a third time—especially not in front of a man he'd known since elementary school, who would absolutely remember it forever.

"For about a second there," he admitted. "But now that you've seen me there's no point in leaving."

He took Owen's hand, which the man immediately converted into a lopsided bro-hug. Boone went rigid as a fence post. Hugging was not in his skill set and had no plans to be.

"Why don't we go into my office," Owen said.

Boone followed him down a long hallway lined with awards and expensive art that probably meant something to someone, clutching his granddad's papers like a man carrying a live grenade. Which, depending on how today went, they might be.

He walked through the office door and stopped dead in his tracks because Eli stood in the corner—two-twenty of solid muscle, shaved head, more ink than the dictionary, looking more like a man who'd committed crimes than a decorated war hero. Colter flanked him, in his work scrubs with arms crossed, a smirk already in place.

"What are you two doing here?" Boone growled and, Jesus, Vivi had been right about the bellowing.

"Followed you from home," Colter said. "You ironed your pants, so you were either sneaking around with Vivi again or putting on your red cape to save the world."

"There's only room for one hero," Eli said. "And I have a Silver Star to prove it. Also, when did you start driving like a retiree? We clocked you doing fifty-five the whole way, passed you when you turned onto Olive Street, and have been sitting here fifteen minutes waiting for your slow ass."

"Why didn't you just tell us?" Colter asked, the smirk dropping into something more direct.

Boone rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't want to get your hopes up. Figured I'd come alone first."

"Alone?" Colter barked a laugh. "You think you're some kind of lone ranger who can charm a lawyer into a miracle? I'm the charmer in this family, and those two other lawyers were idiots."

"Which is exactly why I came to Owen," Boone said. "Because he's the best and he treats family like family. And if this blows up, I didn't want you two to know."