Page 8 of Marrying the Billboard Cowboy

Courage. The word echoed in Zeke’s chest, a flicker of something bright amidst the swirl of doubts.

The clink of silverware against plates subsided as the last bites of dinner vanished, leaving only satisfied sighs in their wake. Zeke pushed his chair back from the table, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth while Gideon stacked the empty dishes.

“Remember when Ma used to make us race to see who’d wash and who’d dry?” Gideon broke into laughter, the sound rich and genuine. “You always won, but I swear you cheated.”

“That’s called strategy, not cheating,” Zeke corrected, standing to collect the rest of the dishes. The familiar banter, light and unforced, loosened the tightness in his chest. Memories of sunlit kitchens and soapy hands blurred the line between past and present.

“Ah, strategy.” Gideon nodded sagely, winking. “Like how you used to hide frogs in my bed to make me think twice about stealing your comic books?”

“Exactly.” Zeke’s chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. He shook his head, a genuine smile warming his face for the first time in days. It felt good to laugh, to remember the innocence of youth rather than the complexities of adulthood.

They moved together through the clean-up, a silent choreography perfected by years of cohabitation. The scrape of a sponge, the rush of water from the faucet, and the clatter of dishes returning to their cabinets filled the comfortable silence.

“Thanks, Gid,” Zeke said as they finished, his voice steadier now, reflecting the calm that had settled over him. “For listening, for... everything.”

Gideon slung an arm around his brother’s broad shoulders. “Always, Zeke. You know I’ve got your back, just like you’ve always had mine.”

With a final squeeze, Gideon released him and ruffled his hair, an echo of playful scuffles long past. Zeke swatted his hand away but couldn’t suppress another short laugh. This was what family meant: support, loyalty, and love without limits.

“I’m gonna head to my cabin,” Zeke announced, his gaze drifting toward the window where darkness had painted the outside world in shades of black and blue. “Got to make sure everything’s ready for Kaitlyn.”

“Kaitlyn,” Gideon repeated the name thoughtfully. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

With those words fortifying him, Zeke stepped out into the crisp night air, the chill a sharp contrast to the warmth of the house behind him. He made his way along the path to his cabin, each step purposeful, his heart lighter than it had been in months.

Tomorrow, he would meet his future, whatever it held, head-on.

5

Zeke’s grip on the steering wheel of his truck tightened, the leather groaning under the strain. He sat parked outside Flapjacks, the diner’s neon sign buzzing faintly. His gaze flitted from the entrance back to the expanse of dusty dashboard before him, the weight of the decision pressing down like the heavy Colorado sky.

The familiar ache of responsibility settled in his broad shoulders—a reminder that as the oldest Reynolds, stepping back wasn’t in his nature. The prospect of meeting Kaitlyn, a woman who had known more than her fair share of abandonment, tugged at something deep within him. Some protective instinct spurred a sense of duty he couldn’t easily dismiss.

Zeke had never been one for rash actions, preferring the steady rhythm of ranch life to the unpredictable dance of human connections. Yet, here he was, making the most unpredictable step of all.

He unlatched the door and swung it open. The familiar crunch of gravel under his boots grounded him to the moment as he stepped out.

Closing the door with a resolute thud, Zeke squared his jaw and fixed his stubble-framed mouth into a line of determination. This was no time for second-guessing. Kaitlyn needed someone she could count on, someone who wouldn’t just up and leave when the snow started falling or when the nights grew too cold. And he needed someone so he could chase his dreams from the security of being partial owner of Redemption Ridge Ranch.

With each stride toward the diner, his heartbeat hammered a steady rhythm against his chest. He wasn’t just walking toward a woman he’d yet to meet; he was walking toward a crossroads in his own life. And as the scent of pine from the surrounding woods mixed with the aroma of sizzling bacon and pancakes, Zeke felt an ember of hope kindle within—the hope that this Christmas might bring new beginnings. For Kaitlyn and maybe for a gruff rancher who thought he’d sworn off surprises for good.

The bell above the door jangled, announcing Zeke’s entry into Flapjacks. His gaze swept over the familiar restaurant, the clamor of chattering families and clinking cutlery filling the space. The warmth inside fought off the chill that had set into his bones during the drive, but it did little to ease the tension knitting his broad shoulders tight.

His eyes moved methodically, dismissing each face that wasn’t hers—a ranch hand laughing boisterously, a waitress balancing a tray laden with steaming mugs, a couple nestled in a corner booth sharing secret smiles. None of them were Kaitlyn.

Then, he saw her—seated alone near the corner window where artificial snowflakes clung to the glass. His lips pulled to the side as he recognized the petite figure huddled there. Kaitlyn’s head was bowed, a curtain of brown hair partially shielding her face from view, her fingers twisting a napkin into tight spirals.

He paused, taking in the sight of her—so much smaller than she had seemed in the worn photograph he’d memorized over the past week. Her shoulders, though squared with a silent type of tenacity, were undeniably fragile under the overhead lights. And beneath the strands of her hair, dark circles hinted at the exhaustion etched deep within her skin.

Zeke’s chest tightened, an unexpected surge of concern flaring within him. This was not the vibrant woman whose laugh he’d imagined echoing through the stables. This was someone who had been weathered by storms he could only guess at, someone who wore her weariness like an ill-fitting garment.

He took a silent step forward, drawn to her vulnerability and strength intermingled so clearly in her posture, in the way she held onto the napkin like a lifeline. His protectiveness, always just below the surface, now rose like a tide. He couldn’t turn his back on her—not now, not when every fiber in his being told him she needed someone to stand beside her.

Zeke’s boots carried him across the diner, each step heavier than the last. He could hear the muffled conversations around him, but they faded into the background as his gaze remained fixed on Kaitlyn. His throat tightened, a knot forming as he drew closer, and he cleared it softly to announce his presence.

“Kaitlyn?” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Startled, she lifted her head, her dark eyes locking onto his. The surprise that flashed across her face gave way to a quick swipe at her cheeks, where tears had etched a path through the fatigue. She straightened up in the booth, a feeble attempt at composure that couldn’t hide the tremor in her fingers as they abandoned the napkin.

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