Page 72 of Swift and Saddled

“It was Stella’s idea,” Amos said thoughtfully. Stella. Amos’s late wife, Wes’s mom. Amos leaned back in his chair. “When I was a kid, my father had Ranchers Day, which was just a day he took off from work, basically. He had…different priorities than me.” Amos’s mouth turned down slightly. “He wasn’t a kind man. He wasn’t faithful to my mother, he didn’t care much about me or my brothers, so when I inherited Rebel Blue—which wasn’t supposed to happen because I was the youngest—I decided I didn’t want to do anything that he did.

“Stella knew that,” Amos continued. “So on our first anniversary, she pitched Ryder Day—a day to celebrate us, the family we were building, and the place that we took care of and that took care of us.” Amos’s eyes had gone soft, and his tone was ardent. I used to doubt that Wes was as good as he seemed, but the more time I’d spent around the Ryders, the more I realized that all three of them—even Gus, who was a lot grumpier than the other two—were the product of a devoted father, who loved them so loudly they couldn’t help but be good people.

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for letting me join in the fun.” I hoped I sounded as sincere as I felt.

“We’re all happy to have you,” he said. “You’re a part of Rebel Blue now.” Amos’s words burrowed their way into my heart, and I wanted to keep them there forever. He said I wasa part of Rebel Blue, but I felt like Rebel Blue was a part ofme.

It was weird. I’d spent my entire life feeling like I didn’t belong—not because I didn’t fit in or because I was lonely, but because I felt like I just belongedelsewhere.

But I hadn’t known where.

I think I might have been homesick for Rebel Blue before I knew it existed.

—

A few hours later, Emmy and I set the table outside and pulled out more Adirondack chairs from a storage shed to put around the fire pit. Emmy was wearing a red sundress that looked like it was made for her. As we were setting up, she had turned on a Bluetooth speaker and there were some country songs playing that I didn’t know.

“Is it a requirement at Rebel Blue to like country music?” I asked jokingly.

“Kind of, yeah,” she replied. “And old-school rock and roll.”

“See, that I can do.” I waved my hand toward the speaker. “But this is not my jam.”

“Hmm. We’ll see how long that lasts,” she said with a smile. It was going to last forever, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that. I would not become a country convert.

Even though some of the songs were pretty catchy.

Brooks and Amos started bringing food out to the table. Amos had been cooking all day, and Emmy had joined him pretty early. I popped in and out of the kitchen as they worked, listening to them talk and occasionally jumpinginto the conversation. Luke had shown up about an hour ago and joined in.

I hadn’t seen Wes since this morning, but he’d texted me and told me he and Gus would be there soon.

“Hello, Ryders!” Teddy’s voice came from the back door. I looked over from where I was placing the silverware next to each plate to see her standing in the doorway. In front of her was a man in a wheelchair, who I assumed was her dad, Hank. His gray hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had a long beard. I could see from here that his skin was covered with tattoos—including his hands. He was wearing a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt that looked like it was straight out of 1972.

In short, he looked badass.

He had a guitar case and a cane across his lap.

Everyone gave Teddy and Hank a wave, and Luke went to the doorway to help get the wheelchair safely down the step.

I watched Amos walk over to him and shake Hank’s hand. Emmy gave him a kiss on the cheek. Teddy pushed Hank to the head of the table, near where I was, and introduced me to her dad.

“Dad,” she said, “this is Ada. She’s the interior designer who’s helping Wes.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “The one Wes is smitten with.” Yeah, there was no question that this man was Teddy’s father. I felt my eyes widen. I didn’t know how to react to that.

“I swear to God,” Teddy said with a groan, “I’m never telling you anything ever again.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled. They were the same color asTeddy’s—a silvery blue. He reached one of his weathered hands out to me. I noticed the tattoos on his knuckles but couldn’t read them. “Nice to meet you, Ada. I’m Hank.”

“Nowhe’s got manners,” Teddy muttered. She looked at me and mouthed “Sorry.”

I shook Hank’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said with a shy smile.

“Teddy’s told me a lot about you.”

“Clearly,” I said with a chuckle. “But I’m not sure ‘smitten’ is the right word,” I added, trying to downplay what I was feeling.

“I am.” That was Wes’s voice. When I turned around, he was walking toward me, Waylon in tow, from the back door. I hadn’t heard him arrive. When he got close enough, he put a hand on my lower back and kissed my temple. I was so focused on his touch and the electric current it sent through me that I barely had time to worry about the fact that Wes was touching me, kissing me, in front of everyone.

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