36 | Measurin’ up
COLTON
The sky’s still heavy from last night’s rain, air thick enough to drink.
Every step through the mud makes that wet sucking sound, boots fighting to stay put as I haul another bale from the truck bed.
I should’ve done this yesterday before supper, but the storm hit sooner than I thought, and these damn cows still need feeding.
I toss the last bale down beside the trough and cut it open, letting the hay spill loose. Steam rises off the herd—that mix of wet earth and livestock that smells like home. I lean on the fence for a second, rolling my shoulder until it pops, and that’s when I hear it.
Her laugh.
It carries across the pasture like sunlight breaking through the cloud cover. I turn, and there she is—nearly skipping with joy, boots sliding through the mud. There’s a truck parked up near the barn, and she must’ve jumped out before it even stopped moving.
“Colt!” she calls, waving her arm like I might miss her otherwise. Like my entire world doesn’t revolve around her, my center of gravity shifting to her whenever she’s around.
She’s got mud on her dungarees and a streak of something dark on her sleeve—probably mud or blood—but her eyes are shining like she’s made of pure adrenaline.
I can’t help it; I smile. “Damn, darlin’. Did he make you wrestle a pig?”
She laughs breathlessly, shaking her head.
“No! I just—oh my God, Colt, it was incredible.”
She’s talking fast, half tripping over her own words.
“Dr. Vega let me tag along on a farm call, and we got to help with a foaling—well, I say help, but it was mostly him. Still, I got to see it all, and then we treated a lame bull, and—” She balls her hands into fists in front of her, like she’s trying to grasp onto the feeling.
“I don’t even know how to explain it. It just felt right.”
There’s dirt on her fingers, mud caked under her nails, but her whole face glows.
She’s too damn pretty for the field, too damn delicate to be dealing with blood and animal fluids, but hell if she doesn’t look like she belongs out here more than anyone I’ve ever met.
I rest my forearms on the fence, watching her, trying not to let on how she wrecks me just by standing close. “This is really it for you, huh?”
She answers before I finish the sentence. “Yeah. It really is.”
No hesitation. No doubt. Just truth spilling out, easy as breathing.
And right then, I swear, I fall for her all over again.
She’s still talking—telling me how Dr. Vega said she’s a natural, how he’s got connections at Bluebonnet State and offered to help her get some official hours in. Something about the world needing more people like her—people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.
I watch her talk animatedly, gesturing with her hands, and something shifts deep inside me.
Those feelings I’ve harbored for her for so long—the ones I’ve been trying so hard to drown out for the last seven years, telling myself there’s no reason to get this hung up on a teenage crush—they finally feel justified.
I’m not stealing a girl away from her dream life for my own selfish desires, I’m watching her step into it on her own accord. This is her finding her purpose, letting herself become who she was always meant to be.
And if there’s anyone made for this—for me—it’s her.
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Clem talks the whole way to Marg’s place—about blood draws, hoof trims, iodine swabs, and how “human babies are so helpless compared to animal babies.”
I listen, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easy on her thigh. Every time she says something that should sound unromantic, she makes me love her more.
There’s a white van with “Avery Restorations” painted on the side parked in the gravel drive in front of Marg’s house. A couple of workers are hauling wood and talking over the sound of drills. The old farmhouse looks half-dressed, siding halfway painted, windows open wide.
Marg’s standing on the porch like a general on inspection, sunglasses perched on her head, hands on her hips. She spots us and waves, calling out, “Well, look who the rain washed in!”
Clem laughs, hopping out before I can even cut the engine. “Marg! You made it early!”
“I was hopin’ to have supper in the new kitchen, but it looks like we’re not there yet.”
I follow Clem up the steps, sticking close, and Marg’s gaze lands on me with a strange mix of appreciation and judgment.
“Colton McGraw,” she says, dragging my full name out like she’s testing its sturdiness. “Did you corrupt my niece?”
Clem grins, slipping her arm through mine. “Don’t start with him, Aunt Marg. He’s been working all morning.”
“I bet he has.” Marg tilts her head. “And you’ve been off birthing horses and fixing hooves or whatever I just overheard you rambling about. Lord, Clementine, what happened to my polite, perfume-wearing niece who was too good for this country life?”
Clem’s eyes sparkle. “She found herself.”
Marg studies her for a long beat—and even I can tell she’s impressed. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Then she turns, clapping her hands. “Come on, both of you. Let’s see how badly these contractors have butchered my poor house.”
Inside, it smells like sawdust and paint thinner. There’s tape marking the new trim lines, a bucket of paint by the door, and rolls of updated wallpaper leaning against the wall. Clem immediately goes into tour mode, pointing things out with the kind of confidence that makes me watch her in awe.
“Look at this—that’s the old banister. Can you believe you wanted to tear that out?”
she asks, running her hand along the newly polished wood.
“But I convinced them to refinish it instead. It’s hand-carved, probably original to the house. Same with the kitchen tile—I just had it cleaned and regrouted instead of replaced. The charm’s still there.”
Marg hums approvingly, brushing her fingers across the banister too. “You’ve got good instincts, sugar. I guess the city people might appreciate that after all—this house still has its soul.”
“She’s good at that,” I say quietly, and both women glance back at me. I shrug, half-smiling. “Seein’ the heart of somethin’ before anyone else does.”
Clem’s cheeks pinken, but Marg narrows her eyes like she’s measuring something. “You talkin’ about yourself, boy?”
“I am,” I admit, grinning sheepishly.
She folds her arms. “Then answer me this, cowboy. My niece here is about to give up a fancy city life, maybe even take on a whole new career. You love her—I see that. But what are you changing?”
“Marg,” Clem warns, but I hold up a hand.
“Nah,” I say, meeting Marg’s gray eyes. “It’s a fair question.”
Marg raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean it bad, son. Just curious if you plan on meetin’ her halfway, or expectin’ her to just slide right into ranch life like a dutiful little wife.”
That word—wife—catches between us like static. Clem goes still beside me.
I clear my throat. “I’ve been thinkin’ about that, actually. ’Bout workin’ a little less, lettin’ Wells handle more of the day-to-day. He’s earned it.”
Clem looks at me, surprise softening into something sweeter. “You’d really do that?”
“’Course I would. The ranch don’t need me twenty-four hours a day. And I got things I wanna do around the house when you move in—make it comfortable for you.”
Her lips part, just barely. “Colt—”
“I want to build you a life that fits you, Clem.”
Marg makes a low approving sound, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting off a grin.
“Well, I’ll be damned twice in one day.”
She turns toward the door, tossing a glance over her shoulder.
“Since supper clearly ain’t happenin’ here, we’ll just crash my sister’s place instead. Y’all better meet me there before the good seats are gone.”
Clem reaches for my hand then, threading her fingers through mine. “I think this life already fits pretty perfectly, Colt.”
“Then I’ll adjust it if you ever outgrow it,” I murmur, squeezing gently. “I’ll make sure it’ll never be the other way ‘round. I’ll tailor every inch to your likin’.”
A mischievous spark dances in her eyes. “Some measurements are already exactly to my liking.”
I chuckle, low and rough. “Let’s go test the fit again, just to be sure.”
She giggles. “Apparently supper with Marg turned into a family event. If you make it through dinner unscathed…” Her lips curve. “…I’ll let you triple-check the fit.”
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HAPPY NEW YEAR! ??? We only have a tiny bit more to go ??