Page 18 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

“Maybe open your hand before you cut off your circulation.” He turned his face, and she nodded to his balled-up fist.

Chance blew out a sharp breath and ran a hand down his cheek, a beard starting to fill in now. “I’m fine.”

She paused, watching him. “You sure?”

“I. Am.”

Willow gave him a look that said she didn’t quite believe his retort, then gestured with her chin toward the tables. “Well, that wall doesn’t need you to hold it up.” Her tone had softened some. “Go mingle. Grab some lemonade before Ace sees you scowling in the corner like a spooked steer.”

Chance huffed a laugh. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll break ol’ Ace’s heart.” She smirked, turning to flag down one of the ranch hands.

A hand passed by with a tray of rolls. Chance snagged one, and Willow’s eyes narrowed playfully.

She stopped the tray with a touch. “Hang on. These look like they were thrown together by a couple of blindfolded raccoons.” With deft hands, she rearranged the rolls into a symmetrical pattern. “I leave for one second, and the kitchen falls apart.”

Chance chuckled under his breath. “Sounds like job security.”

Willow glared at him. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she nodded toward the middle of the barn. “Go get yourself something to drink, cowboy.”

He pushed away from the wall, muttering as he went. “Anything you say, darlin’.” Out of her earshot, he whispered, “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the family.”

“You sayin’ something, son.” Ace had entered the barn. Chance became vaguely aware of his father’s diminishing height.

He cleared his throat. “Was just telling Willow this place looks better than it has in years.”

Ace waited a beat, then flicked his gaze through the expansive place. He nodded. “I would have to agree with you there.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Nothing for me now. I’ll wait here to greet some of our guests.”

Chance nodded his acknowledgment, then he strode toward the flower-laden refreshment table. Another low rumble stirred through the floorboards. Barely noticeable. But it was there.

* * *

In hindsight, Chance shouldn’t have drunk that lemonade.

Not that it was Willow’s fault. Eli must’ve spiked it when she wasn’t looking—he’d seen it, even smirked when it happened. He could’ve warned someone. Could’ve picked something else. But he hadn’t. Maybe part of him wanted a reason to feel off-kilter.

Now, he was paying for it.

The barn felt stifling, the lights too bright. Laughter bounced off the walls with a hollow clang. Boots clomped to the music, oblivious to the bitterness pooling under his tongue. Would this night never end?

Willow moved like a wind current through the crowd, checking platters, exchanging pleasantries, keeping everything humming along. But when Willow’s eyes found his, the look she gave him was anything but friendly.

She marched across the worn wooden floors, brow furrowed, eyes laser sharp. If she were a bobcat, he’d be waving his arms like a beast to deflect the attack.

“You’ve had enough,” she said under her breath, leaning over him. Her presence teased his senses. He pulled himself upright, not because he cared to mingle, but to take in more of her.

“I—” Chance started, but the words felt thick, heavy in his throat.

“You’re gonna make a mess of things,” she hissed.

Again.

He hadn’t heard the word, but he felt it. The disappointment in her tone wrapped around him tighter than a noose. He heard it in his mind, coming from Ace too.

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