Page 67 of Saddle and Bound

Fran: Ready for all the steamy ranch tales! ??

Staring at the screen, I release a heavy sigh. Every muscle in my body screams for rest, but my friends are nothing if not persistent...

Me: Just got back, guys…

Chris: Absolutely not! Your presence is required... plus, the ladies will be gracing us

Diego: so you won't pine for your cowgirl

Me: you're all impossible...

Chris: but now that you know SHE'LL be there, we'll see you at eight, right?!

Me: @Chris real rich coming from you????!

Diego has added Ethan to the group

My stomach twists at Ethan's name, an involuntary reaction I immediately feel guilty about. This irrational antipathy towards him goes against everything I stand for, yet I can't seem to shake it.

Ethan: Hey everyone! Thanks for including me – looking forward to the festivities!

Perfect... Guilt gnaws at me as I think about Rosie's friendship with Ethan. I know I should be better than this... There's no logical foundation for my hostility.

Closing the chat with more force than necessary, I wrestle with my frustration. The rational part of my brain knows I need to extend an olive branch to Ethan, if not for my sake, then for Rosie's. I make a silent promise to approach tonight with an open mind, though the prospect feels about as comfortable as breaking in a new saddle. Maybe, if I give it an honest chance, I'll discover there's more to him than my prejudiced mind has allowed. For now, though, all I can do is brace myself for what promises to be an emotionally taxing evening.

The situation with Ethan continues to prey on my mind as I prepare for the night ahead. The thought of maintaining a façade of normalcy through hours of forced interaction sets my teeth on edge. Perhaps it's time to lance this boil before it festers any further.

Making an impulsive decision, I set out to find him before we're all thrust together at the Rusty Spur. The ranch spreads out vast before me, offering countless hiding places. As I exit the main house, I consciously push away the hope that I won't find him with Rosie. Their friendship, however much it niggling at my insecurities, is something I need to accept. Still, I take comfort in knowing she's likely preparing for the evening ahead.

After checking the obvious locations – kitchen, living room, even the stables – I finally spot him by the horse corrals. He's gentle with Tornado, the young colt we welcomed just weeks ago, and something about seeing him so natural in my domain creates an unexpected knot of emotion in my chest. For a moment, I consider retreating, but I force myself forward. Some things need doing, comfortable or not.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I approach with measured steps.

"Ethan," I call out, working to keep my voice level despite the tension coiling in my gut. He turns, surprise flickering across his features.

"Alex," he returns, hand still resting on Tornado's velvet nose. He’s dressed entirely in linen—khaki pants paired with a crisp white shirt. He wears Italian loafers with an ease I can’t comprehend; to me, they’re nothing short of torture devices. His perfectly styled hair and impeccably groomed appearance are hard to ignore. My stomach tightens again at the thought of how effortlessly Rosie would look beside someone like him.

The silence that follows feels heavy enough to sink into. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, with assumptions and misunderstandings that have grown too large to ignore. Ethan waits, patient as a seasoned ranch hand with a spooked horse, while I struggle to wrangle my thoughts into something resembling coherence.

Finally, drawing on reserves of courage I usually save for breaking wild horses, I decide to face this head-on. I've never been one for pretty words or elegant expressions, but some things need saying, however inelegantly.

"Listen, Ethan..." My voice comes out rougher than intended, thick with the weight of what I'm trying to convey. "I owe you an apology. My behavior since your arrival... it hasn't been what it should be. I let assumptions and prejudices color my judgment, and that wasn't fair to you."

Surprise blooms in his eyes, followed by something warmer, more understanding. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, genuine and disarming. "I appreciate that, Alex," he says, sincerity evident in every word. "Really. I get it – it's not exactly comfortable having your girl's best friend show up, especially when we have the history we do."

His frankness catches me off guard, leaving me momentarily floundering. "Yeah, well..." I stumble over the words, wrong-footed by his directness, "Rosie explained that you're just friends, but..." Ethan's smile widens with understanding. "But we seem to fit together so naturally that it's hard to believe there isn't more to the story?" I nod, shame coloring my cheeks at having my insecurities laid so bare. I move closer to Tornado, running my hands along his coat and showering him with affection… God, how I’ve missed being around horses! But then, something unexpected happens—Ethan and I keep talking. Our conversation flows effortlessly, weaving from one topic to the next, and to my surprise… I find myself enjoying it more than I ever thought I would.

Chapter 40

Rosie

I sit on the porch of the main house, hands empty, eyes locked on the horizon. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds that stretch endlessly over the ranch. It’s a sight I’ll never grow tired of.

Three days have passed since we returned from the camping trip, yet my mind is still caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there’s a growing sense of belonging, a feeling I haven’t experienced in years, like I’ve finally found a place I can call home. But on the other, fear lingers—fear of change, of leaving behind the life I built in Los Angeles, even if that life feels like it’s slipping further out of reach with every passing day.

And then there’s Alex.

I sigh, my thoughts drifting back to him. These past few days, he’s been nothing but patient, giving me space without ever making me feel guilty or pressured. But I can see it in his eyes—he’s wrestling with his own feelings, just as I am.

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