Chapter 31
Sutton had survived childbirth, cross-country moves, and a fainting goat in a necktie, but nothing had prepared her for sitting in the Tipsy Cow while Bridlewood enthusiastically auctioned off its single population like prize livestock.
Bridlewood’s Ultimate Catch Night worked on the simple belief that no one should ever be trusted to sell themselves.
Instead, friends, siblings, coworkers, and the occasional overzealous parent took the stage, grabbed the mic, and pitched the single in question like a prized steer at the county fair.
They laid out the highlights—job, hobbies, emotional availability—while conveniently glossing over flaws or spinning them into “quirks.” The single had to sit front and center, usually mortified, as the crowd hooted, asked questions, and voted with applause.
If there was mutual interest, names were exchanged, drinks were bought, and Bridlewood had collectively decided that it had personally orchestrated another love story.
The stage was modest: a single wooden chair, a projector screen with a PowerPoint presentation glowing, and a single spotlight that wobbled whenever someone got overly enthusiastic.
Tonight, that someone was Kal, the single dad from Lynlee’s school, and his best friend, who apparently decided Kal needed a full-blown marketing campaign.
Sutton watched the spectacle unfold, while Jo and Vivi flanked her like mischievous guardians of commentary.
“Not only does he make a mean meatloaf,” Kal’s friend said, gesturing like a game-show host, “but he can assemble IKEA furniture without crying once! That’s a man who knows how to handle real-world crises.”
Jo snorted. “Wow, if Hamburger Helper and allen wrenches don’t scream ‘marriage material,’ I don’t know what does.”
Vivi elbowed her. “I’d swipe right just for the furniture thing. But only if his hammer is as multi-faceted as a Leatherman tool.”
Sutton giggled, leaning closer. “I think we just found Kal’s brand identity: Captain Competent.”
Then Kal’s mom got on stage, and everything escalated. Her enthusiasm radiated in full, unfiltered force.
“Ladies,” she began, hands on her hips. “I present to you Kal—the thoroughbred of our small town! Strong, dependable, loyal, and with a smile that will melt even the frostiest of hearts!”
Sutton nearly choked on her drink.
“A thoroughbred? Really?” Jo muttered under her breath.
Vivi whispered, “She’s not wrong. He does have that stallion-thing going for him.”
“If by stallion you mean slightly confused but adorable,” Sutton whispered back.
Jo took a long pull of her beer. “And apparently, if you squint, a mane.”
Sutton snorted, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables. She waved them off.
“Not only will he never leave a dog in a hot car,” Kal’s mom continued. “But he can open a pickle jar without breaking a sweat. Imagine, ladies! A man who’s both nurturing and capable!”
“Truly, a modern miracle,” Jo said out of the corner of her mouth.
“He can fold a fitted sheet. A skill so rare, it should be taxed.”
By the end, Sutton was laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach, beer bottles threatening to tip over. It was sweet, absurd, and perfectly ridiculous all at once—the kind of pitch only a mother could deliver without shame.
Sutton leaned back in her chair, still giggling, stealing glances at Jo and Vivi, who were practically vibrating with glee.
“I swear,” Jo said between laughs. “This is why small-town pastimes are my favorite way to spend time. It’s my version of trash television.”
Vivi smirked. “And why we’ll never run out of material for these nights.”
Jo raised her bottle. “To men with multi-faceted hammers and the ability to fold fitted sheets. May they survive the night and someone claim them responsibly.”
Sutton laughed again, shaking her head. “Amen to that.”
The laughter and applause from Kal’s pitch hadn’t quite died down when the next person was ushered onto the stage. Sutton leaned forward, curious. But the moment she saw who it was, she nearly choked on her drink.
“Lady Rea?” Vivi said. “What on god’s green earth is she up to?”
The woman—radiant, glossy, and annoyingly composed—took a seat on the stage as if she owned it, flipping her silvered hair back with a casual flick. Sutton froze. Jo, on the other hand, went rigid, eyes wide, hands flying toward her mouth.
“Fuck me,” Jo whispered frantically. “That’s going to be about Eli!”
Sutton tilted her head, confused. “Why are you freaking out?”
Something horrified moved over Vivi’s face. "Old history and deep roots."
“Why is she on the stage?” Jo was whisper-shouting now, her hands waving like she was trying to summon a divine intervention. “Why is she here? I cannot. This is going to end badly. I can feel it in my soul. Peace out.”
Jo stood to leave and Vivi grabbed her arm. “Don’t let him scare you off. No man should have that power.”
Sutton couldn’t help laughing under her breath. “Jo, calm down, Rea isn’t even here for Eli. She’s in the hot seat, which means she’s the contestant.”
“The woman treats every seat like a throne. Do you really think she’d stand while auctioning off one of her grandsons? This is fucking karma,” Jo snapped. “That’s what this is.”
Vivi gave her a gentle squeeze. “You survived Vegas, Jo. You survived the Coast Guard silence, the black ops, the absence of any kind of social media. You’ll survive this too.”
But Sutton had to admit, watching Jo’s dramatic, flailing panic, combined with Rea’s serene confidence on the stage, made the whole bar feel like a powder keg. One wrong spark, and someone—probably Jo—was going to blow up spectacularly.
Jo gave her a shaky nod, lips pressed tight, fingers curling into fists. “Easy for you to say,” she muttered, voice tight. “You’re not the one who nearly lost your heart at twenty and had it vanish into thin air for ten years.”
“Exactly why you can handle this,” Sutton said firmly. “You’re brave, Jo. That’s your MO. Just keep your cool and let the rest play out. No screaming, no fainting, no dramatic exits. Just watch and assess.”
Sutton’s confidence gave Jo a flicker of courage—a small, shaky spark.
She was breathing a little steadier, shoulders slightly less tense.
That’s when the door swung open—and Sutton’s heart almost gave out, because instead of Eli, it was Colter striding in, looking impossibly calm and entirely too put-together for a Saturday night at the Tipsy Cow.
The Tipsy Cow was the kind of place every small town had—part bar, part second living room.
Warm wood, mismatched stools, and a bartender who knew your order before you sat down.
It was where secrets were shared, bad decisions were made, and everyone pretended they weren’t people-watching while absolutely people-watching.
And Sutton was people-watching the last person she expected to see tonight mosey his fine-ass backside toward the front of the bar.
Sutton’s chest hitched, and she realized she’d completely forgotten to breathe.
Jo leaned over, voice low but deadly serious. “Remember what you said about being brave. You just said it, Sutton, you need to model that.”
Sutton shoved her panic down and forced herself to sit upright, taking a slow, shallow breath. The napkin in her fist didn't stand a chance.
Across the room, Colter scanned the crowded bar with that calm, calculated expression that made Sutton’s chest ache in entirely the wrong way. He weaved through the clusters of women, finally settling in a seat in the audience, clearly thinking he’d just stumbled into a mildly ridiculous event.
Then Rea’s voice boomed across the bar. “Next contestant! Come on up!”
Colter’s brow furrowed and he glanced around, confusion written plain across his face, as if she’d called someone entirely unknown. He stayed put.
“Darling!” Rea caught Colter's eye across the room and simply tilted her head toward the empty chair beside her. An invitation that wasn't really optional.
Colter had gone statue-still in a way that suggested his brain was running seventeen escape routes simultaneously and rejecting all of them. She'd seen him steady under pressure—surgeries, Harvey, a waiting room full of chaos—but nothing had prepared her for the look on his face right now.
Colter shook his head slowly, the universal motion for ‘like hell I will’.
Rea, clearly unimpressed with hesitation, didn’t wait for consent. She walked off the stage, across the crowded bar, and grabbed his arm like he was a wayward boy in trouble.
“Up you go!” she said, dragging him toward the stage with the force of absolute authority.
Colter’s knees bent awkwardly as he was steered into position and the crowd burst out in whistles and cheers, completely oblivious to his internal debate between compliance and mutiny.
She'd been in a room once where everyone waited to see if she'd do the right thing—and the right thing had cost her everything she'd planned for. Watching Colter get herded toward that stage, nowhere to go and everyone watching, she didn't find it funny anymore. She found it achingly familiar.
Rea stepped forward, arms sweeping grandly like she was announcing a royal heir instead of her grandson. “Ladies! Gents! Friends, neighbors, and anyone with a pulse!” she boomed, her manicured voice carrying over the down-home bar. “Allow me to introduce my grandson—Colter Callahan!”
Sutton’s gaze stayed glued to him as he straightened awkwardly, looking every bit the reluctant hero.
Rea didn’t give him a chance to protest. “Now, let me tell you why Colter is exactly the person you’ve all been secretly hoping to find.
He’s the kind of man who will drop everything to rescue a stranded dog in a rainstorm without a second thought.
He’ll build a makeshift shelter if the wind blows too hard, and he’ll sit with you through the night if you’re scared or sick.
He doesn’t just care—he acts. And he’s been doing it for years, quietly, without ever seeking praise. ”
Sutton’s chest tightened. Every word Rea said described the exact kind of man she had dreamed of: kind, steady, reliable, endlessly capable—but also gentle and fiercely protective. And it was terrifying because, unlike a dream, he was very real and very here.
“And that’s not all!” Rea continued, her eyes sparkling.
“He’s loyal to a fault. A man who honors his commitments, values family above all else, and has a heart so big it could swallow this entire town.
He’s funny, thoughtful, brilliant—and yes, ladies, devastatingly handsome, though I promise that’s not why you’ll fall for him. ”
“And let me be clear,” Rea added, wagging a finger for emphasis. “He is someone who would love well, protect fiercely, and make you laugh even when your world feels upside down.”
Sutton’s fingers tightened harder around her napkin, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Everything Rea was saying, she could see in him already—the quiet attentiveness, the way he scanned the room even as he reluctantly stood on stage, the careful kindness in his eyes.
She felt a blush creeping up her neck. Her brain screamed stay calm, don’t flail, but her heart was doing cartwheels. She stole a glance at Jo, who was smiling with glee.
“Yep. That is exactly what I felt a second ago,” Jo said. “Sucks. Doesn’t it?”
“Sucks so hard,” Sutton agreed.
Rea’s voice cut through the hum of the crowded bar. “Now, ladies! Or a gent. Who here thinks they might be interested?”