Page 150 of Catching Sparks

Garrison is completely out of his element here, but he’s been such a good sport. I even managed to get him into a pair of Wrangler jeans and a white T-shirt that does things to his arms that makes me absolutely weak before we left our house this morning. He doesn’t mind the jeans so much after working at the ranch, but out in public at an event of this size, it’s a big change for him. The dark brown boots and hat he’s added to his outfit are downright sinful, and I’ve had a blast warding the women away from him all day.

The entire group of us is dressed fairly similarly, all with Steele Ranch–branded tees and Wranglers of some variation. I’ve been missing this sort of time together as a group since Garrison and I moved to Calgary officially two weeks ago.

It was a stressful move. There was so much to do in so little time, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I didn’t want to wait a minute longer than I had to before moving in with him. I’d have done it the day he came back to Cherry Peak.

We found our home the week after we started looking. It’s a cute, newly built bungalow in a cul-de-sac on the lower south side of Calgary. The new-development area is as close to Cherry Peak as Calgary offers, cutting the drive time down by a few minutes. It turns out that buying a house in cash speeds up the process quite quickly. Small miracles, I suppose.

Every weekend since, we’ve driven back to Cherry Peak. The Steeles unsurprisingly agreed to let us stay in the guest house every weekend we’re in town, and those moments there are some of my favourites. Being so close to Anna and Brody, as well as my family, is something I’ll never take for granted.

Kip and Honey are as attached at the hip as ever, and while they miss us when we’re gone, we spend hours in the stables and riding out in the fields together while we’re home.

Brunches with my family have moved to Sundays now, and with Abbie starting kindergarten in the fall, it’s worked out perfectly. I think my niece may even like my boyfriend more than I do.

“I can picture Wade on a bull,” Garrison says into my ear, his body a hot, stable weight at my side.

My palms are sweaty around the thick metal pole in front of me as I lean against the fence and try not to crinkle my nose at the dirt and scent of manure floating in the air around us. Garrison rests his hand on the exposed sliver of skin above my waistband, and I grin.

“Now? Or when he was younger?”

“Both. The old man isn’t scared of anything.”

Anna leans into my opposite side, her cheeks flushed from the heat. “He’s the fittest old guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Total GILF status,” I reply, my smirk heavy in my voice.

Garrison pinches my back. “Don’t call him a GILF.”

I stare up at him beneath the brim of my cowboy hat and bat my lashes. “Don’t go getting a complex. You’ll be one too, I’m sure of it.”

“I knew you were only with me for my good looks,” he grunts.

“That and your huge dick.”

Anna bursts into laughter. “And your thick wallet.”

“You two are the worst,” Brody mutters from behind her, his tall body wrapped around her back in a protective, reassuring way.

He holds the top bar of the fence, staring down at his girlfriend. Or soon-to-be fiancée, from what I hear.

“I don’t know how we put up with them,” Garrison replies.

Brody lifts Anna’s hat from her head and kisses her temple before setting it back. “Been wonderin’ that a long while now.”

I roll my eyes. “Say you’re jealous and move on, boys. It’s not like we’re about to leave you for Wade.”

Speaking of, the man himself stalks over to us with Johnny in tow, the latter looking every part the cowboy he is. The only thing he’s missing is a piece of straw hanging from his mouth.

“You thinkin’ of hoppin’ on a bull this weekend?” Brody asks him.

“You’re not getting on a damn bull, Johnny,” Garrison says sternly.

Johnny looks between the two guys with a casual grin. “Nah. I can’t risk breaking the goods just yet. I’ve got a woman to try and convince to go on a date with me first. Can’t exactly accomplish that if I get myself all jacked up.”

He’s not much for a bull riding, anyway. It’s a hobby he sometimes dabbles in, but that’s it. Thank. God. The thought of him getting hurt makes me wanna burst into tears. He’s too damn adorable to wind up a bull’s punching bag.

“Aurora ain’t interested in you, boy,” Wade grumbles.

The oldest Steele claps a hand to Garrison’s shoulder, the two of them speaking a silent language that I’ve come to learn is unique to them. It’s not the same one that Wade and Brody speak, but it’s something close.

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