Page 102 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“Well… hell.” Willy shakes his head, looking between Red and me with a crooked grin. “The tea can wait, am I right?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Willy

I’ve discovered there are only so many disasters a man can joke my way through before people stop laughing, which is unfortunate because joking is pretty much my entire personality.

I walk into the kitchen and find Red nursing a mug of coffee like sunrise insulted his family. Arizona’s already at the table, and the moment I step inside, we both remember exactly how yesterday ended.

Heat creeps into her smile when she looks at me, and I grin back before Red catches the exchange and squints at us over the rim of his mug.

“Morning.”

Silence.

“Well… that’s encouraging.” I wave a hand between them. “You’ve somehow managed to make this awkward for me.”

Arizona coughs into her coffee to hide a laugh while Red mutters into his mug. “Good.”

“I’d like it officially recorded that accidentally interrupting people is emotionally exhausting.”

“You didn’t look exhausted yesterday.”

“I was professionally embarrassed.”

She smiles. “You were laughing.”

“I deal with embarrassment by making jokes.”

“You deal with everything by making jokes.”

“See? You get me.”

Arizona lets out a real laugh, and I’ll happily count that as my first win of the day.

Emmett walks in with Sadie balanced on his hip, and she stretches both arms toward Arizona before she’s even through the doorway. “There she is!”

Arizona’s smile softens as she takes her. “Morning, troublemaker.”

“I’m hungry.”

Emmett snorts. “She ate enough yesterday to bankrupt a buffet.”

“I’m becoming a cowgirl.”

“That’s a solid career plan,” I tell her. “The hat alone makes it worthwhile.”

She accepts my approval with complete seriousness before grabbing Arizona’s hand and hauling her toward the table to admire a drawing she apparently started before dawn.

Arizona drops beside her without hesitation, asking questions about every scribbled horse and crooked fence while Sadie explains each one like she’s presenting artwork at a fancy gallery.

Watching them together twists my chest in a way I’d rather ignore because I know Arizona’s leaving soon, yet every day she slips a little deeper into life here until I can’t picture this ranch without her.

An hour later we’re back to work, and the ranch settles into its usual routine of horses, dust, coffee, and Red finding fresh reasons to complain.

Emmett hands me two water buckets with the confidence of a man who hasn’t learned from experience. “Carry both. You’ll spill less.”

“I appreciate your faith.”