Page 92 of Ride Me Reckless
Bet on the Long Game
Several Months Later
Rhett Callahan
Ipulled up in my cherry-red ‘69 Corvette just as the sun hit golden hour, washing Colt’s ranch house in that warm, cinematic kind of light—the kind directors pay big money to fake. The car gleamed, the engine purred low as I killed the ignition, and every head turned when I stepped out like I planned it that way.
Which, of course, I had.
The place looked good. Real good. All that land, white fence stretching wide across green pastures, a proper wraparound porch with a couple of rocking chairs that looked brand new. Guess love really does make a man settle down and start landscaping.
The smoker was going out back, and the smell of slow-cooked ribs hit me like a freight train. Kids were running in the grass. Women sipping iced tea and wearing sandals chatted near the steps. Someone had strung up lights along the fence posts—Colt's doing, no doubt. Funny thing was, none of it felt like a show. It just looked… right, like this was always where things were meant to land.
I made my way up the paver pathway, nodding at a couple of neighbors I half-recognized from back in the day before we won the Powerball. Colt hadn’t just built a house out here—he’d built a life. And damned if it didn’t suit him.
I spotted Tessa first, barefoot on the porch, cradling one of the twins like it was the easiest thing in the world. Her hair was down, her laugh soft and real, like she hadn’t had a hard day in months. Colt hovered nearby, holding the other baby like it was made of glass and gold all at once, shoulders tense like he’d body-check a bear if it got too close.
Tessa glowed like a woman who’d finally found her safe place. Colt looked like a man who knew damn well how lucky he was.
They’d gotten hitched a couple of months back. No crowd, no fanfare—just vows under the old oak tree near the fence line, Dalia crying into a hankie, and Colt looking at Tessa like she was the only thing keeping him standing.
Probably was.
Sawyer and Easton were there too, quiet and respectful, both in starched shirts and looking more polished than usual. It wasn’t their story being written that day, but you could tell they knew how much it mattered.
I watched the love birds for a second too long before adjusting my shades and rolling my shoulders back.
Happy endings weren’t really my style. Not because I didn’t want one. Just never figured out how to stick the landing.
I pulled a beer from the cooler by the steps, twisted the cap off, and raised it in their direction as Colt caught my eye. He grinned, nodded once.
Yeah. The cowboy finally found his way home.
I took a long drink and leaned against the porch rail, playing it cool even as something a little too honest twisted in my chest.
Couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—I was getting tired of playing it cool.
I barely had time to finish my beer before Tessa walked over with one of the babies bundled up in a soft yellow blanket. "Here," she said, already placing him in my arms like it wasn’t a potential catastrophe waiting to happen. "This one is Wyatt. We figured we’d ease you in with the chillist twin."
I blinked down at the kid, who stared right back like he already knew all my secrets. Then—just like that—his tiny fist shot out and wrapped around my finger. Firm little grip, too. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
“Well, hell,” I chuckled. “I think I need something stronger than another beer.”
Tessa just smiled, proud and radiant. “He likes you.”
“Dangerous taste,” I said, but I wasn’t joking. Not entirely.
Charlotte Ann—Charlie, they said—was snoozing in Colt’s arms across the way, her pink hat slightly askew. Her tiny nose favored her mama’s already, and Colt looked like he hadn’t slept in three days and didn’t care one bit.
“You got lucky,” I told Tessa, eyes still on Wyatt.
“I know,” she said softly. Then she leaned in a little closer and added, “It’s good to see you behaving yourself, Uncle Rhett.”
I huffed. “You wound me. I’ve always been a paragon of virtue.”
That earned a snort from behind me as Colt strolled up with Charlie balanced like a football in the crook of his arm. “Only thing Rhett’s good at is circling women like a buzzard. Just ask Callie.”
I shot him a side-eye. “Real funny, Bennett. You’re lucky your baby can’t understand words yet.”
