Page 103 of Forever To Me

“Signed me up for what?” I ask, gripping the clipboard like it might contain answers and save me from whatever mission she’s signed me up for.

Maggie’s smile widens. “The best event of the year in Bridger Falls.”

I turn to Mack, who stands behind her with an expression that practically screams mischief as well.

“Oh, yeah,” Mack says, eyes dancing with glee. “You're gonna love it.”

And that’s how I end up standing in the middle of Bridger Falls’ annual “Ranchers vs. Townies” contest, glaring at Maggie, Mack, and half the town.

I’ve had so much delicious food from all of the food trucks. Who knew that this was such a popular event in Bridger Falls?

Apparently, Bridger Falls does this once a year in the summer to bring the town together. The town people and the ranch owners all get together, eat good food, play games, and it’s all in good fun.

It has been a full day of events. And it has been so much fun. Until now. Because apparently, Walker is now my partner.

In a three-legged race in front of everyone.

And the way the crowd watches our every move? I’m convinced this was less about town spirit and more about a collective matchmaking scheme from everyone.

Walker stands beside me, scowling down at the thick rope binding our legs together.

His jaw is tight. His hands rest on his hips. His t-shirt stretches over his broad shoulders, and the way his biceps look should be illegal.

I try not to look. And fail.

“Tell me again how this happened,” he mutters.

I cross my arms. “Your daughter and Maggie are agents of chaos, that’s how.”

Mack waves from the sidelines, beaming like she’s never been prouder. “Don’t mess this up, Dad!”

Walker sighs, rubbing his jaw. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

I smile. “You’re slipping.”

His eyes flick to mine warm, sharp, and full of challenge. “You sure you can handle this, Red?”

The air thickens. Just slightly. His voice is low and rough around the edges, like a sandpaper tease against my skin.

“You sure you can keep up, old man?” I shoot back, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck.

He huffs out a breath, muttering something under his breath about how he can “definitely keep up.”

I grin. “What was that?”

His lips curl at the corner. “Nothing.”

Liar.

The announcer steps up to the mic, adjusting his cowboy hat. “Alright, folks! Time for our favorite event: the three-legged race!”

The crowd cheers like maniacs. The Betty Lou Bandits from the quilting club wave a banner that says: “TEAM WALKER & VIOLET: WILL THEY KISS OR CRASH?”

I groan.

Walker sees it and curses. “This town’s insane.”

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. But I can’t help but secretly love it.

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