34 | Takin charge
COLTON
My heart’s so full it damn near bursts.
I lean back in my chair, hands still pink and pruny from the dishwater, the smell of lemon soap clinging to my skin. The kitchen hums with the quiet rhythm of home—chairs scraping, low laughter, the creak of the screen door.
Wells and Clem saunter in from outside, laughing about something, easy as can be.
He’s grinning wide, talking with his hands like he always does, and she’s shaking her head, trying to hide her smile.
I swear, the sound of her laughing with my family—it does something to me. Feels like the house exhales a little.
Tessa’s curled up on the couch with Sawyer, her head on his shoulder, and for the first time in years, she’s not wearing that tight, brittle look she’s been carrying around.
Her eyes find Clementine, and hell if they ain’t soft.
Not fully warm yet, but it looks like she’s getting there.
I don’t know what they talked about out there under that moonlight, but I reckon it was good for both their hearts.
Things are settling back where they belong.
I catch Mama pushing Clementine down into a chair, mothering her like she’s been hers all along. She slides a cup of tea and a slice of pie in front of her.
“Mama, cross my heart, I’d eat if I could—my stomach just isn’t used to this amount of food anymore,” Clem groans dramatically.
Mama mutters something under her breath about “city girls and rabbit appetites,” but she’s smiling that gentle smile that always gives her away.
I move in behind Clementine, slip my arm around her shoulders, the scent of her shampoo catching in my chest. I dip low, voice rough enough for only her to hear.
“Some things,” I murmur, “you just gotta take your time with. Let ’em stretch nice and slow.”
Her eyes go wide, her head whipping toward me, and that pink blush crawls up her throat so sweet I have to bite back a grin. She presses her palm to my thigh under the table, firm enough to warn me—and tease me, too.
“I’m like, so tired,” she says a little too loudly, voice pitched high. “Feels like the last few days are finally catching up to me. Do you think we could call it a night, honey?”
“Yes ma’am,” I drawl, already on my feet. “Thanks for dinner, Mama. Gotta go tire my lady out some more.”
“Colton!” she hisses, mortified, bending to grab her boots. Her cheeks are blooming scarlet, and I swear I’ve never loved a sight more.
I tip my hat toward the table. “If y’all hear any screams, don’t come lookin’. It’ll just be this girl—and they’ll be screams of pleasure.”
Laughter ripples through the room, Wells howling the loudest, and Clementine groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Remind me never to come around here again.”
Before she can wriggle away, I scoop her right off her feet and toss her over my shoulder, ignoring the way her tiny fists thump against my back. “Colton McGraw, put me down right now or I swear—”
“You keep swearin’, Tiny,” I rumble, carrying her down the porch steps. “Nothin’ I love more than the filthy things you promise you’re gonna do to me.”
The moon hangs low over the pastures, throwing silver light across the fields. I’m halfway to the truck when she straightens up, palms braced on my shoulders.
“Colt—stop.”
I do, looking up just enough to see her face lit up by moonlight.
“I think I wanna ride,” she says.
“Exactly what I was plannin’, darlin’,” I say, voice low and rough, “which is why—”
She cuts me off, eyes flashing. “A horse, you brute. I want to ride a horse. I need to… bite the bullet. Ring in my new life the right way.”
I lower her to the ground, my hands dragging slow down her sides. “I was hopin’ we could ring it in together,” I murmur. “Naked.”
She shakes her head, but her mouth curves. “I’m mending things tonight, Colton. I’m in the right mindset to push myself a little.”
Then she rises to her tiptoes, presses her lips close to my ear. Her breath skims my skin when she whispers, “I’ll do whatever you want after.”
A jolt of heat shoots through my gut so fierce I see stars. I grunt, voice gone low. “You really should’ve led with that, Tiny.”
Then I scoop her right back up and head for the stable, her laughter spilling into the night.
----
“Eeeeeh. Yeah, no—I’ve changed my mind.” Clementine backs away from the fence, palms lifted, eyes wide.
I grin, slow and mean, swinging the gate open with a creak. “Come on now, girl. You were talkin’ such a big game earlier.”
She stares at my mare like Queeny’s suddenly doubled in size. “Have horses always been this big? I swear they looked smaller when I was a teen.”
“Mhm.” I step in close enough that she can feel the warmth coming off me, my front steady against her back. “Could take Tank instead, if you’ve changed your mind. Ride together again. I just figured Queeny would be a good choice if you wanted to go solo.”
Clem sucks in a breath and steels herself. “We’d never make it to the ring if you got behind me again. Let’s go.”
There’s that spark again—the stubborn tilt of her chin, the flash in her eyes. I bite back a smile and boost her foot into the stirrup. She swings up, a little clumsy, but hell, muscle memory’s still in her somewhere. Queeny shifts under her, impatient, and Clem’s hands tighten on the reins.
“Easy, girl,” she whispers, voice steadier than I expect.
“That’s it,” I call, leaning against the fence. “Take control. She remembers you.”
Clem straightens her spine, jaw set, and nudges Queeny forward into the pen. The mare starts at a walk, hooves thudding against the packed earth, then a trot, and before I can blink, Clem is urging her faster. Dust kicks up in the air as they circle the pen, Clem’s bun bouncing on her head.
When she leans forward into a gallop, my chest damn near bursts. She’s laughing now—wild, unrestrained, the sound of every bit of city tension burning clean off her bones.
“Atta girl!” I shout, cupping my hands around my mouth to carry the sound. “You got it, baby.”
She reins Queeny in after another loop, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. She swings her leg over and reaches out to me. I grab her waist and lower her down slowly.
“Holy hell,” she gasps. “I forgot what that felt like.”
I pull her closer. “Looks like you remembered just fine.”
“I can’t—” She laughs, breathless. “That was—God, Colt, I needed that.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice rough. “I could tell.”
For a second, neither of us moves. Then she grabs a fistful of my shirt and tugs me outside, straight toward my truck. There’s a look in her eyes—careless and hungry—and I don’t argue. I’d follow her anywhere when she looks at me like that.
We barely make it out of the ranch drive before the rain starts.
Slow at first, thick, heavy drops splattering against the windshield.
I flick the wipers on, headlights carving tunnels through the dark as we rumble down the dirt road.
The drizzle turns to a downpour in seconds, water streaming across the glass until the world outside’s nothing but shadows and blur.
“There’s a blanket in the back, near the cooler,” I tell her, voice low. “You’re gonna need it to get inside without gettin’ soaked to the bone. These summer storms are relentless.”
Her hand slides over my arm, fingers curling. There’s a spark in her eyes that could burn through the rain. “Pull over.”
I do as I’m told—because when she gets like this, there’s no talkin’ her out of it. “Tiny, it’s pourin’.”
“I know.” She’s already unbuckling, swinging the door open. “Come on. Let’s go get wet.”
She’s out before I can stop her, door slamming shut behind her.
I shake my head, watching her spin in the golden wash of the headlights—hair plastered to her face, dress clinging to her curves like second skin.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” I mutter under my breath, before killing the engine, shoving the door open, and following her straight into the storm.
----
Want to bring some fire to the rain? ??????