Chapter 7
After Colter’s day all he wanted was a hot shower, a cold beer, and a woman in his bed.
A woman who knew the score. Not one who could waltz into his carefully managed life, tip it off-balance, and make him realize that all the rules he’d built to keep his life uncomplicated were suddenly negotiable.
Not that he'd ever explained those rules to anyone.
Not even his brothers. The short version was this: he'd watched his parents build something extraordinary—the ranch, the family, thirty-five years of a marriage that made even cynics believe—only to lose every single bit of it in the two seconds it took for a truck to run a red light.
After his parents died something inside him changed—something fundamental.
He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, and it wasn't like he'd sat down and thought, New strategy: fall for no one, keep things light with no strings. It had just happened—the slow calculus of a man who had learned, firsthand, that the more you let yourself love, the more there was to lose.
It wasn't just about romance. That was the easy answer—the one that fit neatly on a dating profile and required no further explanation.
The harder truth was that the leaving had started long before he'd learned to protect himself from it.
His parents, gone in two seconds, Eli shipping out year after year to places Colter couldn't follow and rarely coming home.
Boone, almost swallowed whole by grief and the rodeo circuit, ruining his life.
Well, until Vivi came along and pulled him back from the ledge.
Even the clinic—the patients he'd saved, families he'd gotten to know who moved away or couldn't afford to come back or just stopped showing up. He'd spent years surrounded by people and animals who needed him and learned the same lesson every single time:
Need was temporary.
People left.
The only variable was whether you saw it coming.
Great system. Airtight. Was considering patenting it.
It’s easier to keep things moving and keep it casual. Nothing wrong with a night that began and ended cleanly with no residue, no one left holding a piece of him when it ended. Or worse, him holding a piece of them.
It was a damn good system—efficient, painless, and absolutely bulletproof right up until the moment a short redhead with freckles and more than enough curves to hold onto, and her four-year-old had walked into his world and made things complicated as hell.
Which was why he was answering a list of ridiculous questions his older brother’s fiancée, Vivi, was throwing at him in order to update his dating profile.
He didn’t want a new dating profile, nor did he need one. The one Vivi wrote for him last year had been a disaster, attracting the kind of women who were looking to lock things down. The only thing Colter wanted locked down in his life was plans for the ranch’s new breeding program.
He shifted in his chair, pressing his knuckles to his temples like he could contain the noise in his head.
“I don’t need someone to match my life,” he said. “I need someone to make the night interesting, then let me go about my day.”
“That might have done in your twenties, darling,” his grandma said, her voice as elegant as the Queen’s, which made sense because before she moved to tumbleweed country, she was the Duchess of Cansburgu.
That was until she came to Montana for a visit, met Marvin Callahan, and never left.
“Women these days won’t wait around for a lad who treats dating like an amusement park ride. Your ticket is set to expire soon.”
Like the British blue-blood that she was, Lady Rea wore a cream pantsuit that probably cost more than his truck and somehow still managed to make everyone else in the room look like they'd gotten dressed in the dark.
Her silver hair twisted up into something so engineered it had to have taken at least an hour and a small army to pull off.
“Thirty-three is the new twenty-nine,” Colter said, but even to his own ears a string of one-night stands didn’t sound as exciting as it had last year. They also sounded exhausting.
“I’ve let you two dictate my dating life for long enough. I’ve dated half the town, even went on follow-up dates. They all wanted more than I can give right now. So, while I appreciate your help, I’m over it.”
“But it’s only been a few months,” Vivi said. “Your perfect match is right around the corner.”
“It’s been a year and there is no such thing as perfect.”
Only, a picture of a redheaded, blue-eyed vet tech flashed through his head. He pushed it down as fast as it popped up. Because while he’d love to blow off some steam, she was the kind of woman his two matchmakers were talking about. Wifey material—not a wham-bam.
“What happened to Sarah? She is so sweet, not to mention smart as a Mensa member. You guys have so many hobbies in common. Animals, kayaking, running.”
Sarah was great. She was the exact kind of woman he’d marry—if he were looking to settle down. But relationships took work, and he had enough work on his plate.
Colter leaned back, letting a slow grin spread across his face. “Weekend hobby? Right. Because that’s what I want on my dating profile. ‘Man treats romance like a hobby.’ Sounds charming.”
Vivi scribbled furiously in her notebook. “It’s honest! You’d be surprised how many women respond to honesty.”
“I’m being honest now,” he said. “And what I’m saying is that maybe I don’t want to be pinned down. Maybe I like a little crazy and unpredictability.” A little sleep. Preferably eight consecutive hours of it, and possibly a therapist, but mostly sleep.
Rea tutted, wagging a finger. “Crazy? Darling, at your age, crazy will get you a stiff drink, not a girlfriend. And believe me, I know the difference.”
“Then maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
Vivi gasped like he’d just declared war. “You can’t look for that in a woman! That’s reckless.”
“Reckless?” Colter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Viv, when it comes to my dating life, I prefer selective chaos and controlled disaster. The kind that keeps life interesting without killing anyone.”
His days were spent triaging mayhem—panicked owners, unpredictable animals, split-second decisions—so the adrenaline rush was a real thing.
And addictive as hell.
“Selective mayhem? Oh, you poor boy. That’s exactly the kind of nonsense that will get you a headline in the local paper.”
Colter smirked, tipping an imaginary hat. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking for a woman who has a minivan and matching Christmas pajamas in their DNA.”
“Or anyone who respects basic social contracts,” Vivi muttered under her breath.
Colter let the corner of his mouth twitch. He did love a good derailment. “Good, then we agree.”
Rea gasped. “Colter Wyatt Callahan, you cannot be serious.”
“I am,” he said casually. “I’m serious about having fun and enjoying life. Not domesticating it or marrying a woman because she has the right skill set.”
"And kids?" Rea asked lightly, in this careful tone she used when she already knew the answer and was giving him rope.
"Not for me," he said simply. "I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm better with animals than anything that can talk back."
Vivi opened her mouth in a gasp and Colter put a hand on her arm. “It was a joke,” he said gently. “You just have to understand I’m commitment-phobic in ways.”
Vivi’s pen hovered over her notebook, her expression a mix of horror and determination. “Okay, no kids and you want a fling.”
Colter smirked, leaning toward her like he was imparting state secrets. “Not that I’d phrase it that way, but let’s just say the woman I’m describing probably doesn’t exist in any of your spreadsheets or Pinterest boards.”
“Flings can turn into more,” Vivi said with enthusiasm and Colter groaned. “Just one more month? Please?”
“Telling her no is the same as challenging her to a duel and, trust me, she’ll win,” Boone said, walking into the kitchen and leaving his muddy shitkickers at the door.
Boone was speaking the truth. His grumpy, stoic, stubborn older brother had turned into a soft teddy bear over the past year.
Vivi hadn’t just opened him up—she’d saved him.
And for that Colter would always be grateful.
But he'd turned into exactly the kind of man Colter was afraid of becoming—pussy-whipped to the point of no return.
Whatever "the point of no return" was. Colter had a feeling he had been standing about three feet from it himself, holding a tampon-aisle memory he hadn't been able to shake in a week.
“Fine, one month. But that’s it. If nothing comes from it, we’re done with the date talk.”
Vivi and his grandmother looked at each other as if they’d just taken gold at the Olympics. Colter rolled his eyes, already plotting how to survive more awkward first dates with women who, he’d bet a hundred bucks, were looking to hogtie someone into happily ever after.
“You have my word,” Rea said and Colter nearly laughed. While his grandma's word was gold, the rule didn't apply when she was scheming.
Rea had always been a busybody when it came to her three grandsons.
But ever since her son and daughter-in-laws died, she’d become as protective as a lioness guarding her cubs—fierce, unflinching, and impossible to reason with when it came to anything she cared about.
Hell, she’d even take on the alpha lion if he was threatening her grandson’s happiness.
While Colter admired that kind of loyalty and fire, he couldn't help wishing she'd aim it somewhere else for once. She ran her grandsons’ lives, which was as irritating as it was exhausting, but there wasn’t anything Colter or his brothers wouldn’t do to make her happy—even if it came at the expense of their sanity.
“Get it in writing,” Eli, his younger brother, said walking through the back door. “They’ve been trying to set me up even though I’m halfway around the world eleven months out of the year.”
“Eli,” Vivi jumped to her feet and was across the kitchen giving him a huge hug. “We didn’t know you were coming home.”
“It’s a surprise,” he said.
“Damn, it’s good to see you,” Colter said, walking over to give his brother a hug. Colter tried to lift like he had when they were kids, but his knees nearly buckled. “Jesus, you’re even bigger than last time. What are they feeding you? The blood of young children?”
Eli looked like he’d just stepped off base—fatigues and all, military duffel slung over one shoulder like it was nothing. Even when he was just standing there, you could tell the guy moved with purpose, all coiled strength and quiet control, like he was ready for whatever came next.
And wasn’t that the question of the hour. What came next for Eli?
His time with the Coast Guard was nearly up and everyone was wondering if he was going to reenlist. Eli loved his station as a boatswain—he’d planned on being a lifer.
But the wear and tear on his body driving the RHIB—the rigid hull inflatable boat—with its hard, flat-bottom that chopped through the water was tearing his back in two.
Boone clasped his hand and pulled Eli into his chest. “Seems they let you out of your cage. How long are you staying?”
“They sent me on medical leave so I can see a back specialist in Blue Sky. My stay depends on what she says. It could be a few days or a few weeks.”
“Well, a few days is a few more days we didn’t expect,” Rea said.
“Hey, nan.” Eli walked over to his grandmother, who was sitting on a kitchen chair like it was her own personal throne. With a kiss on each cheek, he gave her a hug. Rea held on longer than expected and Colter felt his chest pinch.
They were proud of Eli’s commitment to serving his country, but the fear that one day he might never come home was always in the back of everyone’s mind. After their parents’ death, the fear became more acute.
“Let me take a look at you,” Rea said, pulling back, cataloguing her grandson’s condition.
Eli had enough ink on his body to tell a dozen stories—each tattoo a badge of battles fought, places seen, and choices made, all wrapped up with the kind of quiet intensity that made you think twice before crossing him.
The phrase “a bull in a china shop” didn’t even explain how massive he was. He was more like “a rhino in a field of landmines.” Yet Colter would bet the ranch that he’d clear the field without disturbing a single blade of grass.
“When’s your future wife coming?” Boone asked Colter and sweat beaded on the back of his neck.
“She’ll be at the family barbecue,” Vivi said.
“The family barbecue?” Colter choked. “Meeting the family is the same as getting down on one knee.”
Boone clapped him on the back. “Well, then you better get a brace, old man, because knowing my fiancée, she’ll find you the perfect match.”