4. Willy
CHAPTER FOUR
Willy
I’ve always believed confidence is one of the greatest gifts a person can give themselves.
Talent is nice, and hard work’s admirable. Luck helps, of course. But confidence? Confidence lets a man walk directly into a terrible idea and somehow convince everybody else it was intentional.
Take my singing, for example.
Nobody’s ever accused me of being good at it. Not once. Yet I continue singing with the commitment of a man headlining a sold-out stadium tour because life is more fun when you refuse to be embarrassed.
Arizona McCay seems to appreciate that philosophy.
Most people react to my version of “Should’ve Been a Cowboy” by asking whether I’ve recently suffered a head injury. Arizona laughs instead.
Not the polite little chuckle people use when they’re trying not to hurt your feelings, either. She laughs like she’s genuinely entertained, and that earns her points immediately.
A lot of points, actually.
The woman drifts through town carrying a guitar and enough stories to fill an album, but she doesn’t seem interested in performing some mysterious musician act.
She talks to people. Teases them back. Doesn’t spend all her time waiting for somebody to admire her.
It’s refreshing.
Which is why, after spending an hour talking to her at the rodeo grounds, long after Emmett left us behind, I decide the obvious solution is to invite her to dinner.
“Come eat with us tonight.”
Arizona looks up from her notebook. “That sounded less like an invitation and more like a scheduling decision.”
“That’s because I’ve already decided you should come.”
“You make a habit of inviting strangers home?”
“Only the ones I like.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “You’ve known me for an hour.”
“Exactly. Imagine how much fun we’ll have after two.”
That gets a laugh.
I enjoy making her laugh more than I probably should.
Arizona closes her notebook and studies me. “You normally this persistent?”
“No. Sometimes I’m unconscious.”
She shakes her head, smiling despite herself. I’ll take that as progress.
Eventually she agrees, and I spend the drive back to Dusty Spur feeling pretty pleased with myself.
When we pull into the ranch yard, Arizona climbs out of her truck and looks around while the evening sun stretches across the pasture.
Dusty Spur always looks good this time of day. The horses are scattered through the fields. The mountains sit dark against the horizon, the house lights already glowing through the windows.
Arizona takes it all in quietly.
Then one of the horses abandons its hay and starts walking toward her.
I point. “There it is.”
She looks around. “There what is?”
“The evidence.”
She furrows her brow in confusion. “What evidence?”
“You’re clearly some kind of woodland princess.”
Arizona laughs.
The horse reaches her and nudges her shoulder.
“See?” I say. “I’ve known that horse three years. He barely tolerates me.”
“Maybe he has standards.”
That one actually hurts. I respect it.
Together we head toward the house, where the smell of dinner is already drifting from the kitchen.
Emmett’s cooking, which means nobody’s in danger.
The last time I cooked, Red claimed the smoke detector worked harder than I did. I still think that criticism was excessive.
The second Arizona steps through the front door, I notice something interesting.
Red looks up from the table. Arizona looks at Red.
Neither one says anything unusual.
The problem is I’ve spent years reading crowds, riders, livestock, and people. It’s part of the job. You don’t survive long in rodeo if you can’t spot trouble before it starts.
And those two? Those two definitely know each other.
Interesting.
I glance at Red, and he notices me glancing. His eyes narrow as mine widen.
No words are exchanged. An entire conversation still happens.
I have absolutely no proof.
I also have absolutely no doubt.
Arizona, meanwhile, appears completely unaware that she’s just become the most entertaining mystery on the ranch.
Before I can enjoy that discovery properly, Emmett appears from the kitchen carrying a bowl.
The man spots Arizona and smiles before he’s even fully through the doorway. “Oh, hey, you’re here…”
“Hey, Emmett.”
The smile she gives him is warm enough that poor Emmett visibly brightens.
I have front row seats to this disaster and I’m enjoying every minute.
“You’re making that face again,” Red says from across the room.
I look over innocently. “What face?”
“The one that means you’re about to become a problem.”
“That narrows it down exactly zero.”
Arizona presses her lips together. She’s trying not to laugh.
Emmett notices too. Unfortunately, that only makes him look more uncomfortable.
Red points at me with the kind of patience usually reserved for dangerous animals. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
“Wow,” I say. “The lack of trust in this household is hurtful.”
“You’ve earned every bit of it.”
“That feels judgmental.”
Before anyone gets the chance to say much else, the front door flies open hard enough to rattle the frame. “Daddy!”
A blur of blonde curls and pink cowboy boots barrels through the house.
Emmett barely manages to set the bowl on the table before Sadie launches herself at him. He catches her without missing a beat, one arm wrapping around her while she practically climbs him like a tree.
“Hey, doll.”
“Daddy, guess what happened today?”
The words come out in one breath, stacked on top of each other as if she’s worried one might escape before she gets it out.
Emmett lets out the sigh of a man who knows he’s already lost control of this conversation. “What happened today?”
“I found a frog.”
“Well, that’s exciting.”
“I named him Kevin.”
“Of course you did.”
Sadie nods solemnly. “Then I lost him.”
Emmett winces. “That’s rough.”
“It wasn’t my fault. Kevin made a choice.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “A bold choice, apparently.”
Sadie points at me. “Willy understands.”
“I understand Kevin saw an opportunity and took it.”
“Exactly.”
She says it with such conviction that Emmett gives up arguing entirely.
Then Sadie notices Arizona.
It’s almost funny watching it happen. One minute she’s talking about Kevin’s great escape. The next she’s completely frozen, staring across the room.
I’ve seen that look before.
Sadie makes decisions about people fast. Faster than most adults. She’ll spend twenty minutes debating between chocolate ice cream and strawberry, but she can figure out whether she likes a person within seconds.
Arizona smiles at her. Sadie studies her right back.
Then her gaze drops to the guitar resting beside Arizona’s chair. “You’re a singer.”
Arizona glances down at the guitar. “Yes, I am.”
Sadie inches closer, curiosity written all over her face. “Can you play it?”
“I can.”
That’s all the encouragement Sadie needs. “Will you play for me?”
Straight to business.
Arizona laughs. “We’ll see.”
It’s probably meant to be playful.
Unfortunately, Sadie Holt treats uncertainty as a personal challenge.
Her shoulders droop slightly, enough to make a person feel like they’ve accidentally kicked a puppy.
Across the table, I watch Arizona realize she’s stepped directly into a trap.
Then Sadie delivers the finishing blow. “Please? Before bed?”
Arizona lasts all of three seconds. A smile breaks across her face. “Okay.”
Sadie throws both fists into the air. “Yes!”
The celebration is so enthusiastic that several people laugh.
Emmett shakes his head into his drink, looking entirely unsurprised. Red tries to hide a grin and fails miserably.
Arizona looks completely unprepared for what just happened.
She still doesn’t realize she’s been adopted, because that’s what Sadie does. She picks her people, plants both feet, and refuses to let go.
And once Sadie Holt decides she loves you, you’re pretty much family whether you planned on it or not.