Page 23 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

I turned to find him watching me, those blue eyes intense in the firelight.

8

HOLT

The light cast dancing shadows across Keltie’s face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbones and the thoughtful expression in her eyes. We sat in comfortable silence, the crackle of the logs the only sound beyond Luna’s soft breathing from the next room.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this content simply sitting with someone. No expectations. No pressure. The rock star life I’d lived for the past few years had been a blur of venues, hotels, and faces—rarely allowing for moments like this.

When she caught me watching her, a flush crept across her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, though it was everything. The way her dark curls fell loose around her shoulders. The amber flecks in her eyes that caught the firelight. The strength I sensed beneath her vulnerability. Everything about her drew me in, in a way I couldn’t explain.

Keltie pulled her legs up under her, getting comfortable on the sofa. “Earlier, at my house, you said something about family obligations keeping you from touring with CB Rice. I’m guessing there’s a story there.”

I rested against the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me. “There is. Not a short one, either.”

“I’ve got time,” she said, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Unless you’d rather not talk about it.”

I hesitated, weighing how much to share. The trust wasn’t something the Wheatons discussed with outsiders. Even the ranch hands who’d worked for our family for generations didn’t know the details. But looking at Keltie, I realized I didn’t think of her as an outsider anymore. Something about her felt safe—like she belonged here.

“Have you heard much about our family’s ranch?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“As you know, it’s called the Roaring Fork. Been in my father’s family since the eighteen hundreds. Anyway, after he died, we found out about something called the Roaring Fork Trust.” I took a deep breath, wondering where to begin. “At first, we thought this thing was his doing—controlling bastard that he was. However, now, we aren’t so sure.”

Her head cocked, and I chuckled.

“I told you this was a long story.”

“I’m still with you.”

“Anyway, after he died, his lawyer called us in for the reading of the will. That’s when we learned about the trust and its, err,unusualstipulations. The entire ranch—everything—was placed in a trust with specific conditions that we eventually learned each of the siblings had to meet. If we didn’t, it would all be sold and given to charity.”

Her brow furrowed. “What kind of conditions?”

“Weird ones. Buck had to live on the ranch for a year. He’d left right out of high school, swearing he’d never be back after the way our father treated him.” I ran a hand through my hair, memories of those tense family dinners surfacing. “Our old man was a tough guy to live with. Hardest on Buck.”

“It must have been difficult for him.”

“Understatement of the century,” I said, remembering the day Six-pack had delivered the news. “Buck was working for the CIA, living his own life. Had to drop everything and live on a ranch he didn’t plan to see again.”

I shifted, noticing how intently Keltie was listening.

“Our father had a way of making everyone around him feel small. For Buck, it was worse. Everything he did was wrong in our dad’s eyes. When he left for college, Roscoe—that was our father’s name—threatened to cut him off completely. Said if he turned his back on the ranch, he’d never own a square foot of it.”

“That was harsh,” Keltie murmured.

“Right? But then he met TJ, fell in love, and now, they’ve got Buckaroo. What seemed like a punishment ended up being the best thing for him.” I smiled, thinking of how my brother had transformed from the tightly wound man he’d been to the contented husband and father he was now.

“TJ’s a journalist, right?” Keltie asked.

“Award-winning investigative reporter. Anyway, how their relationship developed is their story to tell, but I’ve never seen my brother happier.”

Keltie’s expression softened. “And that’s why Porter isn’t here tonight? The trust?”

“Exactly. His stipulation required him to move to Morris Ranch, which is about thirty miles from here, for a year.”

---