Page 130 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

She smiles. “I spend most of my life paying attention.”

“Songwriter habit?”

“Partly. I like watching people, too.”

The ranch comes into view around the next bend, porch lights spilling across the yard while the fire throws sparks into the dark beyond the house.

Arizona leans forward, one hand braced against the dash. “It’s beautiful. I’m always struck by Dusty Spur, every time I come here.”

The engine barely cuts out before the screen door bangs open.

Emmett strides onto the porch with three beer bottles hooked between his fingers. His face lights up when he spots Arizona climbing out of the truck.

“Well,” he says, taking the steps two at a time, “I’d started preparing for another evening listening to Willy tell the same stories.”

I climb out and shut the driver’s door. “They get better every time.”

“They get longer every time.”

Arizona laughs. “I’d like to hear both sides before I choose a side.”

“You’ll regret that,” Emmett says as he offers her a beer. “He’s got a talent for editing history.”

Arizona accepts the bottle with a grin. “Thank you.”

Heavy boots thud across the porch. Red steps outside with a beer in one hand and stops when he sees Arizona standing beside the truck.

His gaze settles on her. “Didn’t know we were expecting company.”

“I invited her.”

Arizona lifts her bottle toward him. “You planning on sending me home?”

He studies her for a beat before taking a drink. “I’ll decide after the first beer.”

Arizona smiles over the rim of her bottle, and I catch the corner of Red’s mouth twitching before he turns toward the fire.

Emmett sees it too.

I grab a couple more beers from the cooler and follow them to the fire. Red drops into his usual chair while Arizona settles opposite him, stretching her legs toward the flames.

Emmett takes the seat beside her, leaving the last chair for me. Funny how that one happens to be next to Arizona.

I hand her another bottle. “You still committed to one drink?”

She turns toward me, rolling the cold glass between her palms. “I haven’t reached a verdict.”

Emmett chuckles. “That seems sensible.”

I let out a long sigh. “You’ve already learned how to flatter him.”

Arizona turns toward him. “I wasn’t flattering him.”

“No?”

“I like people who pay attention.”

Emmett scratches the back of his neck, suddenly fascinated by the label peeling beneath his thumb. “I just try to make sure everyone’s got what they need.”