Chapter 40
Boone was midway through polishing a saddle when the barn door slammed open so hard it rattled the rafters. He looked up just in time to see Virgil storming in, face red, boots kicking up gravel, and a glare that could punch through wood.
"Callahan!" Virgil barked, slamming a hand on the nearest flat surface. "We need to talk."
Boone raised a brow, keeping his voice even. "Well, you've already got my attention. What's got your britches in a twist this time?"
Virgil yanked a piece of paper from his pocket and thrust it at him. Boone caught it, squinting as he unfolded it and read:
Dear Mr. Maddox,
I hope this finds you well. I wanted to reach out regarding the water rights.
I know you've got your reasons, but the Callahans have done so much for this town—keeping it running, supporting the people, and generally being the backbone everyone leans on.
Maybe you could reconsider your stance on the water issue. It would mean a lot to all of us.
Also, I know this might be a little forward, but if you ever need help putting yourself out there, I'd be happy to write a dating bio for you. Free of charge. Consider it a small token of gratitude.
Thanks for considering it.
—Vivi
Boone stared at the letter like it had just bitten him.
His chest tightened, the barn suddenly felt smaller and hotter than it had been thirty seconds ago.
He could feel his pulse in his ears—that slow, familiar burn that meant trouble.
Anger, betrayal and disappointment all wrapped into one messy, gut-punching knot in his stomach and then tightened to the point of pain.
He’d asked her to stay out of his business and she'd stuck her nose in it anyway.
Vivi. Sweet, clever, maddening Vivi—who he'd trusted, who he'd let all the way in, who he'd told—had gone behind his back. Exactly the thing he told her not to do. And now he was left holding a mess he hadn't asked for and sure as hell didn't need right now.
His hands tightened on the letter, and he wanted to throw the damn thing across the barn. He could almost hear her voice in his head—that little satisfied lilt she got when she knew she was being clever. But this wasn't clever. This wasn’t cute. And this sure a hell wasn’t a joke.
This was trust shattered into a dozen pieces, and he was the unlucky guy tasked with picking them up.
He'd thought she understood. He'd thought she saw the lines—what was hers to touch, and what was his to carry alone. And yet there she was, sending letters, bending the rules without so much as a backward glance.
Boone dropped onto the nearest stool and pressed his hands over his face, trying to breathe through the storm of it.
He'd trusted her—let himself believe, for the first time in longer than he could say, that someone was fully on his side.
And now all that trust felt like it had been ripped straight out from under him.
Why couldn't she just listen?
He'd asked, he'd been clear, and she'd chosen her way over his, and it cut deeper than he'd expected, which told him everything he didn't want to know about how far gone he already was.
"You trying to strong-arm me?" Virgil snapped, eyes flashing. "Make me look bad around town so I'll lower the water prices?"
"Flap your gums all you want, Virgil, but last I checked, you're the only one runnin’ your mouth around town. I didn't send anyone to talk to you. I didn't make a scene of things, and I as hell didn't send that letter." He held it up. "Didn't even know about it until right now."
"I don't care. I'm not raising the price. And I'm not taking orders from you or—" He waved a hand like Boone had personally insulted four generations of his family tree. "— whoever that little spitfire thinks she is."
Boone blinked. That wasn't what he'd braced for. Not a win—but not the fight he'd been dreading either. "You're not raising the price?"
Virgil's expression darkened further, which Boone hadn't thought was physically possible.
"I'm not lowering it either. Hell, I'm not selling to you at all.
" He stepped closer, all simmering fury and wounded pride.
"I'll find another buyer. Someone who doesn't think it's clever to play games with a man's reputation.
I won't have it, Callahan. Not from you. Not from anyone."
There it was, he thought. The end.
No water. No deal. And the trust he'd built with Vivi—the careful, hard-won thing he'd let himself believe in—had just gone up in smoke, courtesy of one letter he never asked her to write.
He squared his shoulders and kept his voice low. "This isn't over, Virgil. Not by a long shot. I'll see you in court."
"Go ahead and spend your money," Virgil spat. "For every hundred dollars you have, I've got a thousand. I'll bury your lawyers in so much paperwork you'll be broke before we ever see a courtroom."
The barn door rattled on its hinges when Virgil slammed it behind him.
The echo faded, leaving behind a silence Boone fucking hated.
The lawyers, court, he could handle all of that—well, except the money. He didn’t have the first clue as to where that was supposed to come from. But he'd figure it out. He'd been fighting uphill since the day he inherited this land, and that hadn't stopped him yet.
But as the quiet crept back into the rafters, the real truth walked in behind it—in one afternoon he'd managed to lose the two things he cared about most.
His ranch—his legacy, his blood, every drop of sweat and sacrifice he'd poured into this land—was now hanging by a thread, strangled between Virgil's pride and Vivi's attempt to play hero.
And Vivi.
Boone braced a hand on the stall door, head bowing.
His throat burned because she wasn't just some woman who'd wandered onto his property and turned his head.
She was sunlight and sharp wit who made him feel like the man he used to be—before the accident, before the loneliness, before he'd quietly stopped wanting things for himself.
She'd gone behind his back and in one fell swoop, one letter he never asked her to write, it was over.
Now he was standing in a barn that felt too damn empty, staring down the barrel of losing the ranch he'd kill to protect—and the woman he'd started to fall for without ever seeing it coming.
Fall for wasn’t the right phrase. Boone was so in love with her it felt like someone had lit a bonfire under his ribs—and no matter how angry he was, no matter how raw and how blindsided he felt, he couldn't put it out.
Every freckle, every spark of mischief in her eyes, every stubborn streak she wore like a crown?
He'd fallen for all of it, completely, without a single defense left standing.
Now, in the empty barn, the weight of what she’d done pressed down on him, but underneath it all was the raw ache that losing her would hurt worse than losing the ranch itself.
Hell of a thing, losing your whole world before lunch.
Vivi’s hands were sticky with peach syrup, and she was rolling out dough with a precision that made everything else—deadlines, apps, small-town drama—fall completely away.
The kitchen smelled like peaches and cinnamon, and for once she was just here, present, the soft give of dough under her palms and the sweet promise of tomorrow's Summer Sunflower Spectacular the only things on her mind.
She slid another perfect lattice top onto a pie and let herself smile.
Really smile—the kind that curled warm and fizzy in her chest. Tomorrow wasn't just about the festival or the ribbon or proving to an entire town that a former city girl could hold her own in a bake-off.
Nope. Tomorrow held sweeter promises than peaches and sugar.
Tomorrow meant Boone. Seeing him, talking to him, maybe brushing fingers when he walked past her booth or stealing a quiet moment behind City Hall. She could already picture the way he'd look at her—like she was something worth slowing down for. Something worth choosing.
God help her, she was looking forward to that more than anything cooling on the rack.
Jo was perched on the edge of the counter with a beer in one hand, legs swinging lazily. She wasn't helping—more like supervising with zero authority—but Vivi didn't mind. Then Jo's eyes darted to the back door, then over her shoulder, like she was expecting a wild animal.
"What are you doing?" Vivi arched a brow and dusted off her hands.
"Thought I saw him." She didn't need to say who. The venom in her voice did all the work. "Figured he might be heading home for dinner."
"Eli left two days ago. He was deployed to Costa Rica." Vivi shook her head. "He's gone. No tail, no chase, no mysterious lurking. You can relax."
Relief washed over Jo's face in a way that was almost comical. Almost. Then Jo's gaze landed on the pies and her jaw went slack. "Wait. How did I miss this?"
"Miss what?"
"These pies. They look—" Jo leaned in, practically reverent. "—edible."
Vivi gave a small, satisfied grin. "Not only edible. Blue ribbon contenders."
"I don't even know how that's possible. For a city girl who wouldn't know a rolling pin from a paddleboard, you've made actual masterpieces," Jo said and Vivi's heart did a happy little flip. The shock and awe on Jo's face was basically the highest compliment in existence. “City-girl with skills that could shame the locals. Damn Vivi, you’ve actually done it. They look better than my gran’s.”
"Your gran was a good baker?"
"No, but she was a mean shopper."
Vivi laughed and she could hear the sound was different from the one she'd brought to Bridlewood. Her whole body felt different. And not just from the surface-of-the-sun sex, but from what had happened after.
I guess I'm signing up for the ride of my life.
He'd said life. As in, he could see himself spending it with her. And the crazy, terrifying, wonderful thing was, she could see it too. Staying in Bridlewood didn't feel like twisting her dreams around a man—it felt like all her dreams were lining up in the same place all at once.
Jo popped the cap off another beer with the edge of the counter and squinted at Vivi like she was trying to read her soul. "What's got you smiling like you just found out peach pie has zero calories?"
Vivi froze mid-crimp, heat sliding straight up her neck. "Nothing."
"Vivi." Jo pointed her beer bottle at her. "I know that face. That's a man face. Wore it once myself."
She set down the pie tin and sighed. "Fine. I'm thinking about Boone."
"Thinking about him or thinking about him?"
"Both. Okay? I'm pretty sure I’m in love with him."
"Shocker."
"That obvious?"
"Girl, you walk around like you've found a new religion."
"I think I have," Vivi said softly. "And now I can't stop wondering how to have a relationship without losing myself in it. I've barely figured out my own life and I'm finally building something. I've disappeared into other people before and I refuse to do it again."
Jo set her beer down. "Vivi, you're out here fixing everybody else's problems, even when nobody asked you to. How about you use those meddling, busybody superpowers on your own life for once?"
Vivi wiped her hands on a towel. “What if my superpowers are like psychic powers? They don’t work on yourself."
"Okay, start with what you want."
"In my heart, I know I can have both. My work, my dreams, and Boone. I can be in a relationship without letting it swallow me whole."
"Specifics."
"First, I want my own place in town. I've never lived alone, not once. What kind of adult goes through life never living on their own?"
"Apparently you."
"I want to prove to myself I can do it."
"So, you want Boone and your own set of house keys."
"Exactly." Vivi pressed on. "I want to take that pottery class at the community center. I've always wanted to try it and I'm not waiting for someone to go with me."
"Boone doesn't strike me as a spin-the-wheel man unless it's attached to a tractor."
"I want to start saving up to open a small office in town for my business. Not in the bunkhouse and not in his space, but in mine."
Jo nodded hard. "A woman needs a room of her own. Sometimes with a door she can slam dramatically."
"I want to plan a solo trip somewhere I've never been. Just me, a backpack, and terrible cell service."
"Make sure there's alcohol."
"And," Vivi added softly. "I want to restart my morning runs. That's my time. That's where I think and decompress. And I’m going to do it even if Boone wants me to stay in bed."
"He can survive an hour without you. Keep running."
"And I don't want to lose myself. I've done it before. I want him. But I want me too."
Jo hopped off the counter and clinked her beer bottle against Vivi's mixing spoon.
"Then do exactly that. You keep your hobbies, your business, your sanity.
You let Boone be the lucky man who gets to orbit Planet Vivi.
You do not get absorbed into Planet Boone like some lovesick little moon. Are we clear?"
Vivi saluted.
"Boone doesn't have to be the whole story," Jo said. "Just your favorite chapter."
Vivi smiled. "Exactly."