Chapter 16
Colter liked to think he could juggle anything—animals in crisis, brothers with opinions, busybody grandmas, a clinic that never slept—but the longer he and his brothers walked the ranch’s perimeter, the more obvious it became that something had already slipped through his fingers.
His boots crunched over dry earth where the new corral was being built. The sun was already climbing, heat settling into his shoulders the way responsibility did.
Boone stopped, kicked at a marker flag, and nodded toward the open stretch of land. “Excavation guy should be here tomorrow around noon.”
Colter’s steps slowed, then stopped completely. “Tomorrow?”
Eli turned, one brow lifting in that silent, military way that said ‘Say it again and I’ll judge you harder’.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Boone said. “We’ve been talking about this corral for six months.”
Colter scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Between the clinic, emergency calls, paperwork, and trying to keep the breeding program on track, something had fallen through the cracks. Apparently, it was a man with heavy machinery.
“I completely spaced,” he admitted. “It’s been a week.” And yet it was only Tuesday.
“This meeting decides grading, drainage, footing,” Eli said. “All the stuff that keeps horses from blowing tendons or standing in mud up to their knees. You’re the resident expert on what the horses need.”
“This is not exactly something you can eyeball later,” Boone added. “We get this wrong and we might as well scrap the whole project.”
Which was why Colter had expressed his concern from the beginning about how expanding too fast could blow up in their face.
But then, last week, Boone, by chance, ran into one of the top breeders of quarter horses in the country, and the guy happened to have a mare of unparalleled bloodline, already pregnant, that was looking for a home.
Seemed the original buyer went belly up and welched on the deal.
Something, if he and his brothers weren’t careful, could be their future reality.
“It was the opportunity of lifetime,” Boone had said.
“One we couldn’t pass up,” Eli had added.
Colter, on the other hand, was willing to pass it up but they all had equal stake in the ranch, which meant it was a majority rules kind of operation. And he’d been in the minority.
Colter exhaled, the weight settled heavier in his chest. He looked over the land again, seeing not just dirt and posts, but the future he was trying to build.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
“Is there any way you can make it?” Eli asked and there was no way Colter could say no. His kid brother had asked for more personal time from his commanding officer to be there for this meeting.
“Let me move some things around. I’ll be there.”
It meant he’d be pulling long hours the rest of the week, but he didn’t want to be the weak link when it came to fulfilling their dad’s dream and protecting the Callahan legacy.
Colter hated liars. But there he was pulling into the diner in town instead of having breakfast with his family. He’d just needed out of the house—out of the schedule, out of the questions, out of the weight of everyone else’s expectations.
He needed thirty fucking minutes of quiet to decompress. Which was how he found himself parking in front of Buns & Guns—a place where the coffee was strong, the opinions stronger, and everyone pretended not to notice when you came in carrying the weight of the world.
Owned by Ms. Kitty, the diner was strictly seat-yourself, small-town to its bones, and as much an institution as the post office or the feed store.
As one of the oldest family-owned businesses in town, it had survived three generations on pie, and the unshakable belief that no problem couldn’t be softened by biscuits and a refill.
“It’s not the end of the world,” he muttered to himself.
No matter how many times he said it, it didn’t stop his hands from sweating.
Even though it was silly to be stressed over a scheduling error, Colter was noticing it was happening more often than he’d like to admit.
He wasn’t just being pulled in different directions, he felt like he was being drawn and quartered.
Colter stepped out of the car, a crisp early-fall breeze causing the tension in his shoulders to loosen just enough to remind him he was still human, not just the sum of everyone else’s expectations.
Opening the door, the sweet smell of Ms. Kitty’s famous cinnamon buns welcomed him. The door shut behind him, a bell jingling in his wake. He moseyed up to the counter and took a seat. His ass had barely touched the vinyl when he heard his name.
“Mister Colter!” the sweet voice said, sliding into his chest. “Mister Colter!”
He turned around and smiled. Sitting in a chair three times her size, was the cutest kid in the world.
She wore rainbow tights, a pink skirt, and an orange top bright enough to be seen from space, and on top of her head was a headband with fuzzy horse ears dangling off each side and holding back her red ringlets.
“Hey, Princess,” he said, then his eyes met Sutton’s and lungs seized.
Sutton was the kind of beautiful that snuck up on you.
Not polished or delicate—real. Her flame-kissed hair fell in gentle waves, which looked like they’d settled that way on their own—no stiffness, no shine from product, just soft and touchable.
Too bad the rest of her came with an invisible electric fence that he had absolutely no business testing.
Something rushed through him. It wasn’t lust or desire but something close to recognition or maybe relief. Or maybe it was some quiet part of him that had been waiting for her without ever knowing her name settling in his chest.
Before he could even say another word, Lynlee jumped up from the table and tackled him, grabbing onto his legs like a koala clinging to a tree.
She looked up at him with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. “Yous can sits wif us if yous wants.”
He’d learned his lesson, which was why, instead of taking a seat, Colter looked at Sutton, silently asking how she wanted to play this. He could tell she was about to make up a reason why they had to leave, when something changed in her gaze.
“We’re in a rush, but we’d love to have you join us,” she said.
Not wanting to give her time to change her mind, he pulled out a chair and took a seat. She was close enough that he could smell her—clean soap and something faintly citrus—something unmistakably her.
God, he was in serious trouble.
Colter took her in then, really took her in.
The scrubs should’ve been practical, forgettable even, but somehow they looked sexy as hell—fabric skimming curves it had no business highlighting, her confidence doing the rest. He’d seen women dressed to impress, but Sutton made work clothes look tempting, and Colter clocked it as a personal failing he needed to get under control.
“What’s up with the horse ears?” he asked Lynlee.
“Today’s tryouts for the school play. It’s called Singing in the Reins and I’m gonna be Poseythe Pony.”
“We’re trying out for Posey the Pony,” Sutton corrected.
“Posey is the star and I wants to be a star.”
Colter hadn’t spent much time around kids—had never really known what to do with all that noise and motion packed into such small bodies. They usually left him feeling a step behind, like he’d missed a rule everyone else knew.
Lynlee didn’t do that. She met him straight on, earnest and bright and completely unbothered by his uncertainty, like she’d already decided he was safe. And somehow, that hit him in a place so foreign he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“You’re already a star, role or not,” he said and Sutton’s face softened with quiet gratitude.
“You thinks?”
“I know.”
Thank you, Sutton mouthed.
He gave a wink and she went back to studying the menu.
Well, he tried to study the menu, but he ultimately went back to studying her.
He realized with a jolt that this wasn’t just attraction or habit—it was about the way she grounded a room without trying and the way his attention kept circling back no matter how hard he told himself to steer clear of her.
“Parker’s trying outs for Boris the Horse,” Lynlee said. “He’s a boy horse and is bestest friends with Poesy which is funny cause Parker’s my bestest friend.”
“Did you know that a male horse is called a stallion? And a female horse is called a mare?”
“Really?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you hear that, Mommy? I’m a mare.”
“That you are,” Sutton said, gifting her kid a smile that he felt all the way down to his soul.
Before he could say another word, a petite brunette approached the table. She was dressed in a short black skirt, a T-shirt that said, Shut your Pie Hole, and a server’s apron. She was also wearing a smile that was dialed to one-hundred percent flirt.
She measured him up in a slow, deliberate look. “Colter Callahan. In the flesh.”
“Hey, DeAnne.”
“What do we owe the pleasure?” she teased.
He forced a smile, wishing the floor would open up and take him whole. “Just grabbing a bite before work.” She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “DeAnne, this is Sutton and her daughter, Lynlee.”
“Hi, Miss DeAnne,” Lynlee said. “Can I haves pancakes with whipped cream?”
“Pancakes, yes,” Sutton said. “Whipped cream before school is no go.”
Had Colter not been freaking out about Sutton meeting one of his booty-calls, he would have laughed. But having his two worlds collide was no laughing matter.
He’d never been ashamed of his arrangements with women before. Casual, uncomplicated, no strings—fine with him. But Sutton changed the equation and, suddenly, the rules felt shaky.
Take the other night, for instance. He’d met a woman at the bar who clearly wanted a fun night with no expectations beyond sex.
Normally, he’d have leaned into that. Instead, he’d carefully steered the conversation elsewhere.
Then Cheryl texted him, asking to see him again and, for the first time in forever, he didn’t know how to answer.