Page 20 of Wrangle Me

The man rambles on, and I lean back to shoot a look at Bowen and Callum. “Who the fuck is this?”

Alex winces slightly but doesn’t miss a beat. “Right. Uh… yeah. So, this is Danner.”

The guy sticks out a hand, completely unfazed. “Danner Kingridge. I guess my reputation didn’t precede me.”

Kingridge.

I stare at the outstretched hand, then at him again. My eyes narrow. Same dark eyes. Same build. Hell, he even stands like a Kingridge. He carries himself like the ground should be grateful he’s walking on it.

I glance around at my brothers, silently checking their faces. Callum gives me a slow shrug. Bowen’s doing his best not to laugh. Holden just nods like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Holy shit.

I lean back, letting out a slow exhale. “Looks like I’ve missed more than I thought.”

Danner grins. “You’re not wrong. But give it time.”

Alex claps a hand on Danner’s shoulder. “It’s been an adjustment.

I consider my options and finally take Danner’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Well, damn man, welcome to the chaos.”

Danner gets off easy tonight, because I don’t have time to unpack his bullshit. Not when I’ve got my own issues looming. I can’t deal with anything else until I talk to Anny.

CHAPTER 18

BOOTS AND BITCHING PODCAST

“Hey,y’all. Wasn’t that a sweet little party over in the library barn at Kingridge? Hope you brought your reading glasses and your drama goggles… because the only thing thicker than the books was the tension.

It’s your favorite voice-disguised podcaster back at it again with another boots-on-the-ground update straight from the dirt roads of Sagebrush Creek. And honey, today’s episode is more tangled than a mess of white string lights after two bourbons.

Now, we’ve been talkin’ babies lately, and let’s just say—Kingridge Ranch is startin’ to look more like a daycare than a cowboy compound. That family tree’s sprouting faster than the zucchini at Findlay Farm. If you ask me, someone needs to start handin’ out condoms with those welcome baskets.

With all these Kingridge boys knockin’ up women left and right, it’s time we knock down the door on what’s really goin’ on.

We’re down to the final bachelors, folks. The last of the unclaimed Kingridge crop: Holden, Geoffrey, and of course—our mystery nut from the West Coast—Danner. And let’s be real, sugar. Those nuts? A little tough to crack.

But if you ask me, the real prize just stepped back onto American soil…

Fallon Kingridge is home.

Yep. He’s the man of the hour. Fresh off a contract overseas and back in town with a new haircut and a heavier wallet. Word on the hay bale is that Fallon may have left more than just cleat marks behind when he skipped town. But what’s the point in digging up a grave again?

If y’all ask me, I’d say let sleeping dogs lie and see what else floats your boat. Because the Farm to Table Dinner Gala & Auction is practically here, and there ain’t a soul in this town that won’t be at The Velvet Spur.

That includes Mayor Randolph, who’ll be sniffin’ around for a photo op and a second plate of brisket… And maybe mapping out a path for his new highway while he’s at it.

And guess who else will be there? Yours truly.

That’s right, sugarplums. You can bet your best pair of boots I’ll be watchin’ it all unfold—quiet as a whisper and sharp as a tack. You can catch me, sweet tea in hand and ready to spill every drop.

Until next time, darlings.

EPILOGUE: MAISIE

SEVEN YEARS LATER

“There we go. Number three of three is officially up.”

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