1. Clay #2
“Drinks?” Dallas suggests, glancing between us. “This is a celebration after all.”
Boone looks back toward the hospital, then nods. “Yeah. One.”
“One,” Dallas repeats, already knowing that probably won’t hold.
The bar in town is quieter than the one I left behind, but it carries its own kind of noise. Low conversation, the clink of glasses, the hum of people who’ve known each other their whole lives.
We grab a table near the back.
“Guess we’re all uncles again,” Dallas says, lifting his beer.
“Yeah,” Boone replies, clinking his bottle against his.
I raise mine with them. “To Hailey.”
“To Hailey.”
We drink.
For a while, it’s easy.
They talk about the hospital, about Nash nearly passing out, about Mom already planning a schedule for who’s helping with what. I listen, half in, half out, letting the rhythm of it wash over me.
Then the conversation shifts.
“Ellie’s got that school dance thing next week,” Boone says. “She’s been practicing nonstop. She’s so damn cute in that tutu, even if she hates it.”
Dallas snorts. “Lila’s the same. Won’t let me hear the end of it.”
Boone grins. “Wyatt tried to ‘help’ her rehearse yesterday. Nearly took out the coffee table. You just wait, Dallas. Once Brooklyn is walking… phew, you’re in trouble.”
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head.
They keep going, talking about bedtimes, early mornings, feeding schedules, balancing ranch work with everything else. The kind of details that build a life piece by piece.
A life that keeps moving whether you’re there for it or not.
I take another drink, letting it sit heavy on my tongue.
“Faith’s been killing it with that social media thing,” Dallas adds. “Got me working for her half the time now.”
Boone smirks. “Never thought I’d see the day. Nor did I think we’d all end up helping Nash out with his dude ranch, but here we are.”
“Hey,” Dallas laughs. “If it works, it works.”
It does, that’s the thing. They’ve figured it out. Each of them found a place, a solid life to stand on right here in Buckhorn where it all began.
I roll the bottle between my hands, watching the condensation slide down the glass. “Sounds busy.”
Boone glances at me, something knowing in his expression. “It is.”
“And you?” Dallas asks. “Circuit still treating you alright?”
I nod, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah. Can’t complain.”
Conversation moves on again, back to things that don’t include me, and I let it, because I’ve never enjoyed the family spotlight shining my way.
After a couple more drinks, more than they said they’d have, Boone glances at his watch, then pushes his chair back. “I should head back. Rose and the kids will be up early.”
Dallas nods, finishing off his beer. “Yeah, same here. Faith’s probably already juggling Brooklyn and trying to get Lila settled. I told her I wouldn’t be too long.”
They both stand, stretching out of their seats with the air of men who’ve gotten used to moving with purpose, with somewhere to be. With people waiting for them.
Boone claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes. “You coming?”
I shake my head, lifting my bottle. “Nah. I’ll stay for one more.”
He studies me, trying to decide if that’s really what I mean or just what I’m saying. “Alright. Don’t stay out too late.”
I smirk faintly. “Since when have I listened to that?”
Dallas huffs a laugh. “Fair point.”
I sit there for a minute as they go, staring at the half-empty bottle in my hand, listening to the low hum of conversation around me. Chairs scrape. Glasses clink. Life keeps moving, same as always.
I sink the rest of my beer and head up to the bar for another drink.
That’s when I notice her.
She’s sitting at the far end of the bar, a drink in front of her, fingers wrapped loosely around the glass, clearly thinking about it more than actually drinking it.
Her dark hair is pulled back low at the nape of her neck. A few loose strands frame her face. She’s dressed simply: jeans, boots, a cool T-shirt, but there’s nothing forgettable about her.
It’s the way she holds herself, like she’s used to being on her own, and she doesn't care about not being a part of anything.
My kind of woman.
I take a sip of my new beer, watching her for longer than I probably should. She glances up and catches me looking.
Most women either smile or look away.
She doesn’t.
Her gaze sharpens slightly, assessing, deciding whether I’m worth the attention. That alone draws me in.
I take my drink with me, sliding onto the stool beside her. “Mind if I join you?”
She turns her head. Her eyes are a soft brown, but there’s nothing soft about the way she studies me. “Seems like you already did.”
I huff a quiet laugh.
“Fair.” I lean my elbow against the bar, angling slightly toward her. “You from around here?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. I mean, I knew she wasn’t from Buckhorn—there’s no one who grew up here that I haven’t crossed paths with at some point—but she gives me nothing.
Interesting.
“What brings you in then?” I ask.
“Work.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Exciting stuff?”
“Depends on the day.”
Again, nothing more than that.
I glance at her, amused. “You always this hard to get information out of?”
She finally looks at me properly, an almost playfulness flickering beneath the surface. “You always this interested in it?”
“Depends on the person.”
That pulls another almost smile from her, but she looks back at her drink instead of answering.
Good.
Whatever this is, it stays easy. No expectations, or digging into things that don’t need to be shared. Perfect.
“What about you?” she asks after a beat. “You from here?”
I take a sip before answering. “Sometimes.”
She glances back at me, eyebrow lifting slightly. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does,” I say. “I pass through. Stick around when I have to. But yes, I did grow up here.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight,” I say with a shrug, “I’m celebrating.”
Her gaze flicks over me again, slower this time. “What are you celebrating?"
“A new niece.”
“Aww.” Her face softens. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I tilt my head toward her glass. “What are you drinking?”
She tells me, and I signal the bartender for another.
“You don’t have to—” she starts.
“I know,” I cut in lightly. “I want to. You intrigue me…”
“Josie,” she fills in.
I smirk. “Nice to meet you, Josie. I’m Clay.”