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“Hey, you two lovebirds, dinner’s ready.” Jenny slides next to me and bumps my hip with hers, causing her full margarita to slosh out of its wide-rimmed glass. “Oops, my bad. Did I get you?”

My shirt looks dry, so I drape an arm over Callie’s shoulder, playing the part of a lovebird. It feels more comfortable now that we’ve broken the ice. I know how to do this, how to act like a couple. I dip my head and graze the shell of Callie’s ear with my lips. “You hungry?”

She nods and leans into me as we walk. “Jenny, how can I help you? Anything you need to bring out from the house?”

“Aw, you’re sweet. Reed did most of the heavy lifting. I’m just in charge of getting people to eat and drink. The only thing you can do is let me fill your glass.” She points at Callie’s empty hand. “Now, wait. Where’s your glass? Luke, how did you let this happen?” She jabs an accusing finger into my shoulder.

“Hey, watch those nails.”

Jenny laughs and drags Callie away. “I promise I’ll bring her back a little drunker but still in one piece.” Callie looks at me over her shoulder with her mouth open in fake horror.

“Just bring her back,” I call, acting like a lovesick boyfriend and trying to convince myself I’m just a really good actor, committed to my role. But then I catch a glimpse of Callie, her head reared back as she laughs at something Jenny is saying. Her hair flows down her back in a stream of golden flax. Her eyes sparkle. Her lips glow cherry red in the sun.

And I fear, down deep, that this is no act at all.

CHAPTER 17

Callie

“Glad you were available on such short notice,” Luke grunts as he steers his truck toward the rising sun. He picked me up right after dropping Scout at preschool, and the coffee I brought him sits untouched in the center console. He’s acting like I’m doing him a favor when I’m about to explode with excitement.

“Are you kidding? First of all, my schedule is flexible, but this is the highlight of my week. It’s exactly the vibe I want for the city folk who come up to Loveland Ranch for a little taste of the beautiful world up here.”

“City folk?” He rolls his eyes. “You mean like yourself?”

“Well, yes. But I want to learn. I want our ranch to be legit.”

“Okay, slow your roll, Rowdy Rancher.” He turns to me expectantly, an almost smile on his lips. He’s proud of himself for coming up with a nickname, and I’m not about to begrudge him.

I give him a little salute. “Yes, Surly Sir. Rolling slow. I’m just excited.”

He chuckles. “Well, yeah. This is one of the best things that happens out here.” Even if he can’t bring himself to fully smile, I hear it in his voice. He’s driving us out to the pasture where a cow gave birth last night. They noticed her standing alone when they came to bring the cows in for the milking shift, and fortunately she’s in an area not too far from the maternity pen, so Luke plans to move her there.

Bouncing on the passenger seat, I’m so excited to see the calf I can barely stand it. To return the favor for letting me tag along, I promised to pick Scout up from school, take him to the park, and cook dinner so Luke can work late.

“Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thank you for helping with Scout later.”

“You should make it official,” I tell Luke.

“Make what official?”

“You told the mediator that having me in your life creates stability for Scout. No more missed appointments, late pickups, inconsistent people coming and going, and bending the rules. So use me.”

He gives me a side-eye.

“I don’t mean like that. Although, if you want to use me for other things, I won’t object.” I bounce my eyebrows and earn the customary groan that turns to coughing. “Easy there.”

“Please stop saying shit like that.”

“But it seems to clear your sinuses. How can that not be a good thing?”

Luke turns down an unpaved lane full of stones and a bumpy road. The truck handles it well, but my stomach lurches each time we practically go airborne over a rock. The scenery around us changes, and now the last of the town is disappearing, leaving us with open views of the land, all greens and golds. Grasslands as far as I can see, punctuated by tall trees, wooden fences, and dots of cattle that are growing larger the closer we get.

“You’re responsible for all of these cows?” I ask, pointing at where the animals are taking distinct shape. My brain whirs with ideas for Loveland, tumbling way ahead of my capability to raise livestock and tend to animals in the petting zoo I envision, but I’ll find people to help me as I go.

“Yup. They’re Jerseys and Holsteins. Milking cows. They go out to graze on a schedule. All grass-fed. Happy cows produce good milk, and that makes good cheese and butter. But I have nothing to do with that. I just sell the milk.”