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The conversation turns when Noble starts asking questions about Silverwood, about the community center my brother Finn founded here in town, about the three new horses my dad’s been working on breaking. I mostly stay quiet until he turns to me and says, “And you’re turning Copper Ridge into a guest ranch—that’s a great idea.”

“Hattie’s always been a big thinker,” Momma says. She holds up a bowl of mashed potatoes, motioning to Noble like he’s telepathically communicated that he wants more. I dumbly take the bowl and set it down in the space between our two plates.

“Funny, Momma, I think you were the one who had a whole list of reasons it was a bad idea.” I stab a carrot with my fork and pop it into my mouth.

I’m being such a brat. I know it, but I can’t help myself. I got blindsided, and I haven’t recovered.

“I just wanted to make sure you’d thought it through, you know, all of the details,” she says. “But I’m on board. I fully support this plan.”

Across the table, Rowe snickers. “You still don’t want a bunch of strangers on your property.”

“Aw,” Noble says. “It’s such beautiful land. It’d be a shame not to share it.”

My eyes flick up to my mom’s, and she quirks a brow. “That’s exactly what Hattie said.”

I can feel him looking at me when he says, “Great minds,” but I don’t respond.

“She’s roped us all into helping,” Boone says from the other side of the table. “She had me installing new light fixtures and ceiling fans for two weeks straight. You ever put in a ceiling fan? Sucks.”

Dad snickers and Mom says, “Boone! Language!”

“Quent and I refinished all the flooring,” West says.

“Only Finn and Hud have gotten out of helping,” Rowena says. “Dad and I pretty much overhauled the entire kitchen.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” Beside me, Noble picks up his water and takes a drink. He refused the beer my dad offered him, and I absently wonder why. I know he’s not shy about drinking—even publicly—but maybe he just doesn’t want to do it in front of my parents? Can’t imagine he stopped all together.

I’m having trouble not filling in all the blanks to his story.

“And we’re happy to help,” Rowena says, like she’s realizing something. “Hattie, have you had to hire out any of it?”

“Nope,” I say, then shoot her a smug smile.

“I feel like we’ve been tricked,” Boone says.

“Who’s the player now?” Noble says.

“Still you.” The words are out before I can think to stop them, and I desperately wish I could take them back.

I know I sound jealous and judgy. Maybe I am. Maybe I deserve to be.

My brothers all let out a loud, drawn-out, “Ooooh, buuurrn!”

Then Boone says, “See? Jealous.” He picks a small piece of roll and flicks it at me.

I scoff. “I don’t get jealous.” I pick up an entire roll. “And remember my aim is better than yours.”

“I ain’t scared,” he says, making a face.

I hold up the bread and narrow my eyes. “When you least expect it, Boone. Sleeping, driving, peeing, doesn’t matter.”

This gets a reaction from all the men at the table, with Momma just shaking her head in exasperated disappointment.

“Oh, come on, Hattie. Everyone knows you always had a soft spot for Noble.” Boone tips his bottle toward me then takes a drink.

“Oh, please,” I say. “I don’t have soft spots. He’s just like the rest of you—a pain in the⁠—”

My mom immediately shoots up a pointed finger and an even more pointed look at me.