LARK #3
Before I can say anything else, Loretta steps up and pulls me into a hug of her own.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she drawls, her thick Texas accent just as rich as I remember. “If it isn’t our little bird, back on Wilding Ranch.”
I laugh, squeezing her back. “I guess some things don’t change.”
She pulls away, eyeing me like she’s making sure I’m real. “You look good, darlin’,” she says, nodding in approval. “Too damn skinny, though. I reckon we’ll fix that tonight.”
Hudson steps up beside me, and Molly’s eyes land on him, her face going soft in a way that almost guts me.
She looks at him like she’s seeing a miracle, like she’s trying to soak up every detail—the brown eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw, the way he stands just a little too cool for a twelve-year-old.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, pressing a hand to her chest like she needs to steady herself. “Would you look at you?”
Hudson shifts on his feet, looking between me and Molly, unsure. “Uh, hi?”
That snaps her out of it. She shakes her head, lets out a breathy laugh, and plants her hands on her hips. “Now, is that any way to greet your long-lost grandmother? Come here, sugar.”
Hudson hesitates for half a second before stepping forward, and Molly wraps him up in a hug so warm, so full, that I swear I can feel it too.
“You got Boone’s eyes,” she whispers, squeezing him tight. “And your mama’s nose. Lord, I could just cry.”
Hudson pulls back, his face a little pink. “Uh, please don’t.”
That makes Molly laugh, a deep, genuine sound. “Oh, you’re gonna fit right in here, I can tell.” She reaches out, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Tell me somethin’, honey—what’s your favorite food?”
Hudson’s eyes spark with interest. “Easy. Cheeseburgers.”
Molly grins. “Cheeseburgers! A man after my own heart. You just wait till you try my homemade ones. Best in the state of Montana.”
Hudson crosses his arms, smirking. “You sure about that?”
Molly gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Boy, I’ll have you know I’ve been perfecting my burger recipe since before your daddy was even a twinkle in his own daddy’s eye.”
Hudson grins, clearly liking her. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”
Molly laughs, looping an arm around his shoulders like she’s known him forever. “Oh, I like you already. You’re trouble, I can tell.”
Hudson’s chest puffs up a little at that, and I feel something settle in me, something warm and certain. He’s home here. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Loretta sidles up next to me, her sharp brown eyes twinkling as she adjusts the casserole dish in her arms. “How’s The Bluebell?”
“Busy as ever. Tourists want their pie, and the locals want their coffee.”
Loretta grins. “And you? What do you want, honey?”
I blink, caught off guard. But before I can answer, she waves a hand. “Never mind. Ain’t my business. But if you ever need a break from slinging coffee and rolling out dough, you know where to find me.”
She pushes open the door, stepping inside, and I follow, my breath catching in my throat the second I do.
The Wilding house still looks exactly the same.
The living room opens up before me, all warm wood and worn-in furniture, a space that feels more lived-in than anywhere else I’ve ever been.
The walls are lined with framed photos—generations of Wildings staring back at me, frozen in time.
The old leather couch is still there, the one Boone and I used to sprawl out on during summer afternoons, our feet tangled up as we watched Jurassic Park .
The brick fireplace is stacked with firewood, like Molly still keeps it ready for when the nights get cold.
And the smell.
Something rich and familiar fills the air—roasted meat, onions caramelizing in butter, the unmistakable scent of fresh bread baking. It’s the kind of smell that sinks into the bones of a house, the kind that makes you feel safe even when you don’t realize you need to .
I swallow hard, the memories pressing in from every direction.
Being here again is like stepping into an old life I’m not sure I still fit into.
Hudson lets out a low whistle, eyes scanning the room. “This place is huge.”
Molly grins, already unwrapping one of the casserole dishes. “Glad you like it, sugar. You’re welcome anytime.”
Loretta pulls a loaf of bread from the oven, the scent filling the room, warm and buttery. Molly waves Hudson over, reaching for a knife. “Come here. I want you to try my special butter.”
Hudson eyes the bread warily, then glances at me. “What makes it special?”
Molly smirks, spreading a generous layer onto a slice. “Oh, I’ll never tell.”
Hudson narrows his eyes at her like he’s trying to crack the code. Then he takes a bite. His eyes widen instantly. “Okay, that’s really good.”
Molly and Loretta cheer like they just won the lottery, and I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head just as the front door swings open. Heavy boots hit the hardwood, laughter spilling in with them.
“You’ll never guess what I found wandering around the ranch,” Boone calls out.
Another voice—deep, warm, and unmistakably familiar—follows right behind him.
“Now, now, let’s not make a big deal out of it.”
Molly gasps and whirls around. “Ridge Harrison Wilding! You better get over here right now.”
I barely have time to register anything before Ridge strides inside, a big, cocky grin stretched across his face.
He’s taller and broader than I remember, more muscle packed onto his frame, but everything else is the same—the sharp jaw, the golden-brown hair curling at his collar, the lazy confidence in his step.
He’s dressed in dark jeans, a white Henley, and a cowboy hat that sits at just the right angle, like it belongs there.
The Rodeo Romeo. That’s what the media calls him. The circuit’s most notorious heartbreaker, a rodeo star with a smirk that’s made him both beloved and infamous.
Molly reaches him first, throwing her arms around his middle. “You too famous to pick up your phone and call your mama now?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ridge chuckles, hugging her tight before looking over her shoulder—right at me. His grin widens. “Well, well. Malarky Westwood. How long has it been?”
Before I can answer, he strides over, pulling me into a bear hug that lifts me clear off my feet.
I pat his back, laughing. “Damn, Ridge. You’ve gotten strong.”
He sets me down, smirking. “Yeah, well, trying not to get thrown off a bull that wants to kill you will do that.”
Hudson watches, eyes flicking between us with open curiosity. Ridge notices, then steps over, hands on his hips. “Alright, let’s see here. You must be Hudson.”
Hudson nods. “Yep.”
Ridge squints, tilting his head like he’s studying him. “Hmm, I don’t know. You look too cool to be Boone’s kid.”
Hudson lets out a short laugh. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Ridge slaps a hand over his chest, staggering back like he’s been struck. “See, this right here? This is a kid with good instincts.”
Hudson grins, looking up at me like he’s already decided he likes him. If there’s one thing I know for sure about Ridge, it’s that he can charm just about anyone.
Before I can register what’s happening, a streak of black and white fur barrels through the kitchen, paws skidding across the hardwood. A second later, I’m hit with the full force of a too-happy border collie, his front paws landing on my stomach as his tongue swipes across my cheek.
I let out a startled laugh, stumbling back. “Well, hello to you too.”
The dog wags his entire body in response, eyes bright, tongue lolling out like he’s just found his long-lost best friend.
“For God’s sake,” Molly mutters, sighing heavily. “Sage! Come get your damn dog! ”
Footsteps sound from the hallway, and then Sage and Wren appear, both of them mid-laugh before they spot Ridge. The moment they do, they let out identical squeaks and launch themselves at him.
Ridge grunts as they collide with him, both of them wrapping their arms around his neck. “You two trying to suffocate me or what?”
Wren pulls back, grinning. “How the hell did you get here?”
Ridge shrugs, still holding onto Sage, who’s clinging to him like a baby chimpanzee. “Got a little break in the schedule. Had a few weeks before the next rodeo, figured I’d spend them back home.”
Sage punches his arm. “So you didn’t even tell us you were coming?”
Ridge smirks. “You love surprises.”
Molly shakes her head, turning her attention back to the dog. “Sage, get Elvis outside.”
Sage scoffs. “Why? He’s not doing anything wrong.”
Molly levels her with a pointed look, then glances at the dog, who—at that exact moment—places his front paws on the edge of the table, nose twitching toward the bread.
Sage scowls. “Elvis, down.”
Elvis begrudgingly drops to all fours, tail wagging like he’s still the goodest boy.
Molly huffs but doesn’t press the issue, clearly picking her battles. She points a butter knife at Sage. “If he steals a piece of bread, he’s out.”
Sage rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead making her way over to Hudson. She crouches slightly so they’re at eye level, offering a hand. “I’m Sage. The best Wilding sibling.”
Hudson shakes her hand, then glances around the room. “How many of you are there?”
Everyone bursts into laughter.
“Too many,” Boone mutters. “Not enough,” Molly says at the same time.
Sage grins. “Four. But I’m the best one.”
Ridge snorts and shoves her shoulder. “Don’t listen to her.”
Hudson’s grin grows wider. “I don’t know. She seems cool. ”
Ridge narrows his eyes playfully. “Alright, kid. You know how to play poker?”
Hudson shakes his head. “No.”
Ridge nods, rubbing his hands together. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know—”
I clear my throat.
Ridge pauses, then flashes me a slow, guilty grin. “Later,” he amends, winking at Hudson.
Loretta stretches, rolling her shoulders. “Well, I better get back home.”
Molly grabs her arm before she can take a step. “You’re crazy if you think you’re leaving.”