Page 16 of One Hot Summer

I can't help but grin at his enthusiasm as I slide into a chair. “That sounds amazing, buddy. I bet you'll do a great job.”

Carson set a steaming mug of coffee in front of me, his fingers brushing mine for a moment. “Thanks.”

As we eat, Collin regales us with his plans for the day, his words tumbling out between bites of bacon.

“Slow down there, cowboy,” Carson chuckles, ruffling his son's hair. “We've got chores to do before that.”

I set down my fork, steeling my nerves. “Actually, I was hoping I could help. If you'll have me, that is.”

Carson's eyebrows shoot up. “You sure about that? Ranch work isn't exactly a walk in the park.”

I roll up my sleeves, determination surging through me. “I’m tougher than I look, cowboy. Besides, I'm not here to sit around and look pretty.”

A slow grin spreads across Carson's face, making my heart skip. “Alright then. Let's see what you've got.”

As we clear the table, I catch Carson watching me, a thoughtful expression on his face. I wonder what he is thinking.

“Ready to get your hands dirty?” Carson asks, handing me a pair of work gloves.

I take them, our fingers brushing again. This time, I didn't look away. “Bring it on.”

We enter the stables. Carson's strong hands work deftly, saddling up a chestnut mare.

“This is Whiskey,” he says, patting her flank. “Think you can handle her?”

I swallow hard, but nod. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

As I mount Whiskey, the leather creaks beneath me. Carson's hand linger on my leg, steadying me. “You're still a natural.”

We ride out to check the fences. The vastness of the ranch stretches before us, dotted with grazing cattle. I inhale deeply, savoring the crisp morning air.

“So, what made you decide to help out today?” Carson asks, his voice curious.

I shrug, focusing on the reins in my hands. “I guess I wanted to feel useful. To... belong, maybe.”

Carson's gaze softens. “You do belong, Kelsie. More than you know.”

My heart flutters at his words, and I quickly change the subject. “So, about these fences…”

We spend the next hour mending broken posts and tightening wire. The work is satisfying. I relish the burn in my muscles, the sweat on my brow.

As we finish up, Collin comes bounding up, his face flushed.

“Dad! Can I show Kelsie the chickens?” he asks, bouncing on his toes.

Carson chuckles. “If she's up for it. What do you say, Kelsie?”

I grin at Collin's eager face. “Lead the way, cowboy.”

Collin's small hand slips into mine as he tugs me towards the chicken coop. His enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself laughing as he mimicked each chicken's unique personality.

“This one's Henrietta,” he says, pointing to a plump hen. “She's grumpy in the mornings, just like Dad.”

I stifle a giggle, imagining Carson's reaction to that comparison. “Is that so?”

Collin nods. “But she's nice once you get to know her. Like Dad, too.”

Collin's trust in me is growing, and I realize how much that means to me. As we scatter feed for the chickens, I marvel at how quickly this place, Carson and Collin, are becoming a part of me.

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