Page 56 of The Cowboy and the Stray

I gaped at her. "You what now?"

"Oh, yeah. See, it was supposed to be your typical drunken joke wedding, right? But turns out the Elvis impersonator was an ordained minister, and the marriage certificate was real."

"Holy shit," I whispered. "What did you do?"

"Well, I'll tell you what I didn't do, and that was stick around for the honeymoon, if you catch my drift." Ash shuddered dramatically. "Can you imagine? Me, shackled to some Cirque du Soleil motherfucker for life? Waking up every morning to a spandex unitard and a balance beam in the living room? No fucking thank you."

The image made me snort with laughter, which set Ash off, and soon we were both in hysterics again. My stomach hurt and my eyes burned, but it was the most I'd laughed in years. Maybe ever. With Ash, it was easy to laugh at all the crazy fucked up shit life could throw at you. With her, even the darkest things didn't seem so dark anymore.

Goddamn it. I was really starting to like her. I'd really miss her when inevitably I had to leave.

Eventually, we caught our breath and lapsed into companionable silence, watching the ranch hands work in the golden late afternoon light. Ash nodded towards where Calder was brushing down his horse, all quiet focus and careful hands. "He's in deep with you, you know," she mused.

My cheeks reddened. "What? No. It's not... We're not..."

"Oh, hush. I've got eyes, don't I? And I know lovestruck cowboys. The strong silent types like him?" She let out a low whistle. "Once they fall, they fall hard. It's a done deal. Permanent-like."

My heart gave a traitorous lurch at her words, torn between terror and desperate hope. I swallowed hard. "Ash, I'm not... I can't... I don't know how to do permanent."

Ash bumped her shoulder against mine, her expression softening. "Baby girl, I don't think any of us really do. But if I had to lay odds? I'd bet on you and Calder figuring it out together."

No pressure or anything.

She stood and brushed the hay off her jeans, grabbing her forgotten lasso. "Just some food for thought. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving. Race you to the house?"

With a whoop, she took off across the paddock, scattering chickens in her wake. I hauled myself up to chase after her, Ash's words still ringing in my ears. Permanent. The idea was huge and terrifying. And a tiny bit wonderful. God help me, I wanted it.

I glanced over at Calder as I ran by and found him already watching me, a soft smile playing at his lips. Our eyes caught and held, just for a second, but it was enough to make my blood sing. Maybe permanent wasn't in the cards for a girl like me. But looking at him? I could almost believe it was possible.

Almost.

28. TESS

The new-cut bales of hay looked like giant croutons scattered by a drunk salad chef. Gray and Reid made stacking them look easy, which was the kind of intimidation tactic that worked only if you ignored how Gray’s shirt clung to his back in a spreading V of sweat, or how Reid’s arms were going red in the patchy shade. I’d been trying to keep pace, but by the time I’d finished rolling one bale into the stack, Gray had already moved three and Reid was halfway down the row with an armful like he was a damn hay baler himself.

Calder had told me, “Just drive the tractor straight, Tess,” which in theory should have been the one farm skill even I couldn’t mess up. He’d forgotten, somehow, that my only experience with heavy machinery involved a U-Haul and a curb I never saw coming.

I did my best. I really did.

But the tractor, his grandfather’s, ancient and possibly haunted, had a clutch that bit at the wrong time and a shifter so loose I had to wrestle it from first to second like it was a dog toy and I was the world’s weakest terrier. The damn thing chugged and bounced and, if I didn’t hold the wheel with both hands, tried to drift into the freshly mown alfalfa.

I pretended not to notice Gray’s smirk every time I veered off the row, but I’m not sure my self-respect survived it. My only consolation was that I hadn’t yet run the thing off a cliff or into a cow. Yet.

The sun had cleared the low hills by the time we’d gotten through most of the back field, and sweat was trickling down my sides in new and alarming places. Reid came up next to me as I wrangled the next row and said, “Looking good.” He didn’t laugh, but there was a glint in his gold eyes that suggested he was about thirty seconds from doing just that.

“Careful, you keep complimenting me and I might get a big head,” I said. “Or worse, expect to get paid.”

He considered that, then grunted and heaved a bale onto the growing stack in the trailer. “Might make a ranch hand out of you yet.”

Doubtful. I was still trying to figure out how to not get hay in my bra.

Gray whistled. “Incoming,” he called, and gestured with a forkful of hay toward where Calder rode up, Brimstone’s hooves silent in the grass. I’d learned that Calder did most things quietly, which was cool except when he appeared out of nowhere while you were, say, singing a very off-key version of “Material Girl” to keep yourself awake.

He eased off the horse and came to stand by the tractor, his shirt dark and stuck to him in places I tried very hard not to look at. “How’s she running?” he asked.

“She hates me,” I said, patting the ancient dashboard. “The feeling is mutual.”

He knelt to check something on the tire. When he stood, his arms and hands were streaked with dust. “Give her another go,” he said. “But keep it in first, and you won’t have to fight her so much.”