Page 11 of Wrangle Me

Seeing her here in the middle of everything settles something in me. All night, I do everything I can to help her feel welcome, checking in with every glance. Maisie belongs with our pack, and I hope she can see that.

But now, I’m just as many drinks in as my brothers are, and all the good intentions in the world can’t keep my temper in check.

“Y’all are lucky Fallon ain’t back yet. That loss of yours would’ve happened even quicker.” Geoffrey raises an eyebrow at me.

“Fuck you, man. You started before he said go,” I snap, stepping up to the table and locking eyes with him.

“Are you serious, bro?” He fires back at me, slamming his fist against the table like it’s a gavel. An almost-empty Red Solo cup tips over. It splashes beer on his jeans.

“For fuck’s sake.” Alex’s voice booms from across the patio. He’s exasperated when he cuts his eyes at my side of the table. “Can you just accept that you lost that round because you aren’t as good as us and let’s move on?”

“That's it. Let’s go, old man,” I snap and square up to Alex from across the table.

The insults sling back and forth as voices rise. I wait for someone to throw the first punch because that’s exactly where this game always leads. It’s getting late, and we’re loud enough to wake the cows. But none of us Kingridge brothers know how to walk away from a competition.

Losing gracefully has never been our thing.

Pa’s back porch is thick with testosterone and stubborn pride. There’s enough spilled beer to fill a trough out here. But somewhere behind me, I catch Maisie’s laugh. It’s light and untouched by the brewing chaos. It’s a relief. At least she knows what she’s getting into with this group.

“Enough.” Bowen’s voice booms over the rest of us. Then, his words drop an octave. They come out calm and measured. “Enough of the bullshit. Let’s call it what it is. Geoffrey, Alex, Callum… y’all got here early enough to swipe the lucky stool. It’s on your side, and that’s why you’re winning. Like the cheating little bitches you are.”

A beat of silence passes. It’s just long enough to register the insult.

Then—Swipe.

Geoffrey’s hand cuts across the beer pong table. He sends every last Solo cup flying and beer sloshes. Ping pong balls scatter and roll across into the pool. It’s game over.

And just like that, all hell breaks loose. We’re shoving, laughing, and dragging each other into half-assed wrestling holds. Holden ends up in the pool, fully clothed, with a string of profanity pouring out of his mouth. I get Bowen locked up in a shoulder grip that I’m not sober enough to properly execute.

Ding dong.

The sound stops us mid-scuffle.A doorbell coming from inside Pa’s house?All six of us freeze.

Alex squints. “Since when does Pa have a doorbell?”

“And who the hell would use it?” Geoffrey mutters.

We look at Pa, but he doesn’t even flinch. He just mutters something under his breath and shuffles inside like it’s nothing. We all stand there, breathing hard, half-tangled in each other, and listen to the footsteps.

Alex does a quick headcount. “It’s not one of us, we’re all accounted for besides Fallon. Well, and…”

Pa reappears, and he’s got Danner at his side.

“And fucking Danner,” I grumble.

“Oh, hell no,” Bowen groans.

“There goes the night,” Holden mutters.

CHAPTER 10

CALLUM

Danner just grinslike he was born for moments like this. It’s like the dude feeds off the chaos he just walked into. And I swear, I can already feel round two brewing.

He showed up a few weeks back, uninvited, unexpected, and apparently unbothered by the welcome he didn’t get. No one’s come right out and said it, but we’ve all silently filed it under the same unspoken truth… Danner is probably the result of some long-forgotten night between Pa and a mystery woman.

Not that any of us are in a position to judge.

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