Page 80 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

“You know what they say about cowboy hats, don't you?”

He raises an eyebrow, slow and suspicious.

“Wear the hat. Ride the cowboy.”

The laugh that breaks out of him is real and warm and does absolutely terrible things to me.

“I'll hold you to that, angel.”

Chapter Thirty

Colt

Sitting in the kitchen, taking up the full length of the dining room table, Wade and I are in focus mode getting the last plans for the equestrian school sorted before construction begins in two months.

It’s coming around quicker than I ever expected, and I’m so damn excited for this. Both hands are braced on the flimsy sheet in front of me, my thumb rubbing over the edge of the paper without me realising as I study the pencilled lines of the extended paddock. There’ll be a decently sized indoor arena built behind the barn, which we both agreed should stay. Keeping some of the original features makes it feel like Gramps still has his stamp on all this too.

There’ll be a viewing gallery added too, an idea that was only added this morning, but a damn good one. I will be training the best out there, bringing in racehorses, entering competitions. Meadow Bell Ranch will be put on the map, and to do so, for people to scout my future riders, I need a place to showcase them.

“If we move this fence line out a few more feet—” I drag my finger across the plans, tracing where I picture the extension going, “—we can run two lesson groups at the same time. Get more out of the day.”

Wade leans over the table, taking his time looking over it all. I already catch myself waiting for him to find the problem, point out why it won’t work, but he doesn’t. Hasn’t really done so during this whole process. Instead, he nods slowly. “We’dlikely need more staff when it opens. Make sure lessons are properly covered.” His eyes move over the page. “Other than that, that works, Son.”

Something eases in my chest. The word has a totally different effect on me lately, and I’m not fighting it.

I look back down at the plan. A month ago, this was pencil marks and wishful thinking. Now there are dates, contractors, measurements. For the first time in a long while, it feels like I belong here for more than just the family name.

And I can’t wait to tell Maeve the updates. I can see her face already, the way she smiles while asking more questions, wanting to know every detail. I want her to see the good in me, be proud of me.

Across the table, Wade rustles papers around again. He’s been restless all morning. Had me repeating things twice, not fully sitting still, fading somewhere in his mind.

“Everything alright?” I ask.

“Mm.” He looks up but doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

But his hands keep moving, restacking papers, lining them up bone straight against the edge of the table.

He clears his throat, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

. “Actually…” He shifts in his chair, and my stomach tightens from his tone. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

I sit back slightly, keeping my face dead straight. “Alright.”

“I’ve been looking for your mother.”

My heart drops to my stomach as everything in the room changes after one simple sentence.

” What?” I say.

Wade inhales, his chest rising, before exhaling through his nose forcefully. Like one deep breath was going to make what’s coming next easier.

“I hired someone. A private investigator to find her.”

Why? She’s been gone for years. Practically a distant memory to most people in this town.

Except me. I’m the only person who still thinks about her. Still wonders where she is. Still catching myself hoping she might come back one day.

“I don't understand. Why would you—”