Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
TRY NOT TO FALL OFF THAT COLT WHEN YOU'RE BEING ALL SMOOTH AND ROMANTIC.
WYATT
The young colt prances in the round pen like he's got something to prove.
It’s been three days since Jackson Hole, three days of me and this horse figuring each other out the way it's supposed to be done.
"Easy, Bucky," I murmur, slipping into the pen with nothing but a halter and lead rope. "We're going to try something new."
The colt's ears flick forward, curious but cautious. When I reach out to touch his neck, he doesn't flinch. Progress.
My shoulder rolls smooth as I lift the halter, not even a twinge of the injury that's kept me home these past two weeks.
The ride in Jackson Hole proved what Doc suspected—I'm healed up proper, ready to get back on the road and chase Vegas.
The thought should thrill me. Instead, all I can think about is the woman in the cottage, and how leaving her feels like sinning.
As I lead the colt toward the gate, I catch sight of the main house where Mom's been neck-deep in strategy sessions with Kinsley, planning political warfare.
Watching those two work together has been something to behold. Mom's found her match in Kinsley—someone who can think three moves ahead. Kinsley’s fighting for this place like it’s hers to lose, which somehow only makes me want her more.
"Wyatt!" Kit’s voice yanks me back from the drift of my thoughts as I lead the colt toward the barn. She closes Duke's stall door, a fresh layer of hay leaves dusting the front of her shirt. "You planning to stare at that horse all day or actually do something with him?"
"Patience, little sister," I call back, running my hand down the colt's neck as we walk. "Good things take time."
"Says the man who rides bulls for a living," she snorts, brushing off her shirt.
I tie the colt in the aisle and start gathering tack—saddle pad, saddle, bridle, but my mind's elsewhere, calculating what I need for tonight.
Two horses, a picnic, and enough courage to give her something that might keep me in her thoughts while I'm gone.
I grab Ace out of his stall and tie him near the colt.
"Why are you taking Ace?" Kit asks.
"I’m taking Kinsley for a ride." I disappear into the tack room and come back out with a brush and Ace's saddle.
"You're taking her riding…" Kit says slowly "…on Ace." She's putting puzzle pieces together and I let her try to work it all out. Heck, I'm still trying to work it out myself.
"Yeah," I say simply, because there's no point denying what she's already figured out.
"Huh." Kit leans against the stall door, studying me with those eyes that miss nothing. "Must be serious if you're letting her ride Ace."
"Maybe it is." The admission comes easier than I expected, carrying less weight and more relief than I thought it would.
Kit's eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline, and for a moment she looks genuinely shocked. "Wow," she says finally, her voice softer than usual. "You're really falling for her."
"Already fell," I correct, tightening the cinch on the colt's saddle.
"That's..." Kit starts, then stops, shaking her head like she's trying to process something that doesn't compute. "… weird."
"Thanks for the support," I say dryly, but I'm grinning despite myself.
"No, I mean it." She pushes off from the stall door. "She's got you all twisted up," Kit continues, and there's something almost admiring in her voice.
"I'm aware," I say dryly—which only makes her laugh. "Speaking of romance," I say, swinging up into the colt's saddle and gathering the reins, "maybe we should find you someone to soften those rough edges of yours, you know, someone you didn’t meet in a jail cell." I tease.
“Very funny.” Kit's laugh is pure disbelief. "I don’t need any help finding a guy."
"Could've fooled me," I tease, settling into the saddle as the colt shifts beneath me, eager to move. "When's the last time you went on an actual date instead of just beating local boys at roping competitions?"
"Oh, if you only knew," she says, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.
The confidence in her voice makes me proud and worried in equal measure.
Kit’s grinning at me again. "Go get your girl, Romeo. And try not to fall off that colt when you're being all smooth and romantic."
"Love you too, Kit," I call over my shoulder as I nudge the colt into motion, Ace following obediently behind on a lead rope.
The colt’s cautious and alert, his ears pricking as we make our way to the cottage.
The ranch looks different in this light—softer, maybe.
Golden. I've always known what this place means, what it costs. Every Halloway before me carried it, and one day it will be my turn. Most days it sits on me like a yoke, heavy and unforgiving. But something shifts as I’m riding toward Kinsley.
The weight's still there. It just doesn't feel quite so lonely.
The cottage comes into view, white clapboard siding warm in the afternoon sun. Kinsley’s truck is parked beside it, and the sight makes something stir in my chest.
She's here. Real. Mine, at least for tonight.
I tie the horses to the hitching post Dad installed when I was twelve, back when he still believed teaching me responsibility might make me into the son he wanted.
The cottage door opens before I can knock, and whatever composure I thought I had disappears like smoke in the wind.
Kinsley steps onto the porch, and the sight of her drives every rational thought straight out of my head. Those jeans should come with a warning label, and the soft green sweater she's wearing makes her eyes stand out even more.
But it's not just how she looks—though heaven knows that's enough to scramble any man's brain. It's the way her face lights up when she sees me, like I'm exactly what she was looking for.
"Well, hello there, cowboy," she says, her voice carrying a slight huskiness that does things to my blood pressure. "This is quite the entrance."
"Figured you deserved something special," I manage, trying to look like her presence hasn't just knocked me sideways. "Can't pick up a woman like you in just any old truck."
Before she can respond, I'm close enough to touch, close enough to catch that wildflower scent that's been haunting my dreams. My hands find her waist, pulling her against me as I lean down to capture her mouth with mine.
The kiss is supposed to be simple—a hello, a greeting between two people who've missed each other despite spending the last three days on the same ranch.
But the moment our lips meet, simple goes straight out the window.
She melts into me like she was made to fit there, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kisses me back with the kind of hunger that makes my blood run hot.
When we finally break apart, I have to resist the urge to forget about the horses entirely and carry her straight back into that cottage. Ace nickers at us, and Kinsley laughs which makes me laugh too.
"I've never been picked up for a date on horseback before," she says. "Points for creativity."
"I'm full of surprises," I tell her as we walk towards the horses. Moving to Ace's side, I check his tack one more time, making sure he’s ready for Kinsley.
"So, I'm learning." Her attention shifts to the colt, and I watch her take in his lines, his bearing, the way he's standing alert but calm despite being in a new place. "Is this the horse that nearly ran me down in the barn?"
"The same," I confirm, running a hand down the colt's neck with obvious pride. "Though Bucky’s learned some manners since then."
Kinsley approaches, her movements respectful—the approach of someone who knows horses well enough to read their moods. The colt watches her with curious eyes, and when she extends her hand for him to sniff, he accepts the greeting.
"What changed between then and now?" she asks.
"Time. Patience." I watch her stroke the colt's nose, noting the gentle confidence in her touch. "Turns out he just needed someone to show him that trust works both ways."
Something flickers in her eyes, then disappears as she moves to greet Ace. "Hello, boy," she strokes his face.
The horse leans into her touch as I offer her the reins. “Think you can tackle a mountain tonight?" I nod toward the Rockies.
Her eyebrows rise as she cocks her head. "Are you questioning my riding ability, Halloway?"
"Never," I say quickly. “Just not sure how much time you’ve spent riding in the hills.”
Something in her softens. "You got a point." she admits. "Ninety-five percent of my riding has been in arenas.” She checks the stirrups to make sure they’re her length before climbing on.
"Well then," I say, as we settle into our saddles, "you're in for a treat."
Soon we’re at the trail head, which leads up through aspen groves that shimmer in the late afternoon light, their leaves whispering secrets that only the mountains know. Kinsley’s shoulders unwind as Ace carries her with a steady gait, her gaze wanders as she takes in the scenery.
The colt beneath me is discovering himself with every step. His ears swivel constantly, taking in the sounds of wind through pine boughs, the distant call of a hawk, and the quiet creak of the leather. He’ll sidestep every now and again when he’s startled.
"You’re right," Kinsley says, her voice carrying clearly in the thin mountain air. "This is different."
I glance over at her, noting the way she's sitting deeper in the saddle now, more relaxed. "Different how?"
"Peaceful." She's looking around like she's seeing the world for the first time, taking in the vast sweep of valley spreading below us, the mountains that rise in every direction. “In the arena, I'm always thinking, analyzing. This..."
"This is just being," I finish when she trails off.
"Yeah." Her smile is soft, wondering. "I didn't know it could be like this."
The admission makes something ache in my chest.