Page 18 of Lost in the Reins

"Not bad." Wes steps back, breaking the spell. His voice carries that gruff approval that I'm learning means more than effusive praise would from someone else. "For a city writer."

I turn to face him, taking in how the morning light catches the stubble along his jaw. My hands still tingle from his touch, even through the leather gloves. "You know, some of us city writers can actually learn new tricks."

"So I see.” His blue eyes hold mine for a moment before he glances down the fence line where Jake and Colt are working. "Though I notice your mind is somewhere else.”

Heat creeps up my neck that has nothing to do with the morning sun. "That obvious, huh?"

"You get this look." The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. "Like you're cataloging moments.”

"Occupational hazard." I flex my fingers in the too-stiff gloves, trying to work out the ache.

"Speaking of hazards," he says, his expression shifting as he looks past me, "you might want to turn around. Slowly."

My heart jumps to my throat. "Please tell me it's not another mouse."

"Worse." There's definitely amusement in his voice now. "Kevin."

I turn, following his gaze, and come face-to-face with what has to be the most judgmental peacock I've ever seen. His iridescent feathers catch the morning light as he struts closer, head bobbing with each deliberate step.

"So, this is the complicated peacock Emma warned me about?"

"The one and only." Wes crosses his arms, watching as Kevin circles us with imperial disdain. "He thinks he owns the place."

"Technically," Jake calls from down the fence line, "he kind of does. That bird's been here longer than any of us."

Kevin stops directly in front of me, his beady eyes studying my boots with obvious disapproval. Then, with the kind of dramatic flair that would make Broadway directors jealous, he spreads his tail feathers in a dazzling display.

"Is he... trying to impress me or threaten me?" I whisper, not daring to move.

"With Kevin?" Wes's voice holds a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Usually both. Sarah used to say he's got main character energy."

The casual mention of his sister catches me off guard. It's the first time he's said her name without that edge of pain. Before I can respond, Kevin lets out a screech that probably carries all the way to Manhattan.

"Showoff," Wes mutters, but there's warmth in his tone.

"I don't know." I risk taking a step closer to the preening bird. "I kind of get it. Sometimes you just need to remind everyone how fabulous you are."

Kevin tilts his head, considering me with one beady eye. Then, to my complete surprise, he folds his impressive tail and starts pecking at the ground near my feet like we're old friends.

"Well," Wes says after a moment, "that's new. Usually takes him weeks to warm up to strangers."

"Must be my natural charm." I grin, watching Kevin strut in elegant circles around us. "Or maybe he just recognizes a fellow dramatist when he sees one."

"Great." Wes rolls his eyes, but I catch that hint of a smile again. "Just what this ranch needs—two divas."

"Three," I correct him, nodding toward where Jake is now posing against a fence post, apparently practicing his dating profile shots. "Don't forget your brother's modeling career."

Wes watches Jake flex for an imaginary camera and shakes his head. "Lord help us all."

A distant rumble of thunder makes Kevin puff up his feathers in alarm. I look up to see dark clouds gathering on the horizon, rolling in fast as only Montana storms can.

"That's our cue," Wes says, already gathering tools. "Storm's coming. We need to check the herd."

His sudden shift to business mode reminds me that this isn't just about fence repairs and peacock encounters. This is realranch life, where weather can change everything in an instant. The brothers move with practiced efficiency, their earlier joking forgotten as they pack up equipment.

"What can I do?" I ask, trying to match their urgency.

"Stay close." Wes's voice carries that note of authority that brooks no argument. "These storms can get nasty fast."

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