Page 25 of Hot Times in Heart Falls, Vignettes Vol 3

Tucker pulled out of the gravel lot, headlights sweeping across a cow statue with a Santa hat hanging from one horn.

February in Alberta. Yeehaw.

Tucker winced as Dare’s humming morphed back into full volume wailing again. He thought it might have been “You Were Mine” by the Chicks, but she kept sliding into what sounded suspiciously like early Carrie Underwood.

Ginny groaned and let her head drop back onto the seat, exhaling like it hurt. “I think that’s the third key change in this verse.”

Luke chuckled dryly from the back. “She’s got spirit.”

“She’s got whiskey,” Ginny muttered.

Luke tried to redirect Dare with a quieter tune, humming “Cowboy Take Me Away” in her ear like a lullaby. It worked—sort of. At least she stopped belting out half coherent lyrics.

“Want to tell me how it got this far?” Tucker asked quietly.

Ginny rubbed her face then dropped her hands to her lap. “She wanted to toast the people we lost. All of them. So one drink each for our parents, then for hers and Shayla.”

Tucker winced. “That’s five drinks.”

“Shayla’s was non-alcoholic, thank God. But then Dare got sentimental. Decided she had a new family now who all needed to be appreciated. Her boys. That was five. Then her new sister—me.” Ginny blinked hard, glancing out the window. “Six.”

Tucker gave a low whistle. “Please don’t say she got to seven.”

“Oh, she did.” Ginny huffed a laugh. “A toast to ‘whoever the hell ends up being her future family, poor bastards who will have to deal with her.’ Her words.”

“I don’t know if that’s touching or terrifying,” Tucker said.

“Both.”

They lapsed into silence as the ranch turnoff came into view. He flicked on the signal even though no one else was on the road.

Snow crunched under the tires as he rolled north, past the main ranch house and toward Dare’s cabin. The cabin glowed welcomingly, the golden pool of porch light reaching fingers into the February darkness that had fallen hours ago.

Tucker parked at the base of the four steps leading to the deck.

“I’ve got her,” Luke murmured, shifting Dare in his arms and easing out the door. “She’s mostly dead weight now.”

Dare perked up just enough to say, “I resent that,” before she leaned over and vomited onto the snow covered grass.

Ginny winced but jumped out to help. She was at Dare’s side a second later, rubbing her back and murmuring softly.

Together, the three of them managed to get Dare up the steps and inside the cottage. Tucker hurried ahead far enough to get the door open and spot the soft glow of the kitchen light.

The place was exactly as he remembered—two bedrooms, warm with wood paneling, the faint scent of cinnamon on the air. One room held a double bed and dark curtains. The other had a desk with two computer monitors and a narrow single bed pushed up against the wall. A cozy blend of past and present.

“I’ll stay with her tonight,” Luke said firmly as they guided Dare into her room. “She’ll need someone here if she wakes up.”

“I can do that—” Ginny began, but Luke cut her off.

He turned to her with a gentler tone. “You need a break. Help get Dare into pajamas, then I’ll handle the rest. You did everything you could, Gin. Let it go.”

Ginny nodded, her lips pressed tight.

She guided Dare down to the bathroom, and the water ran briefly as Dare alternated between brushing her teeth and singing a dirge.

Luke caught Tucker’s gaze. “You’ll get Ginny home?”

“Of course.” Tucker pressed a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “You okay?”