I followed him. Not because I wanted to, not really, but because standing out in the dark felt reckless now. The kind of foolish that catches up with you later. The air wasn't cold, but something in me shivered anyway.

It wasn't just those guys.

It was all of it.

The weight of Rem not being there sat heavy, like a bruise I kept pressing just to see if it still hurt. And then there was Colt, the walking contradiction. He made me feel steady one second and spun out the next. Safe and seen, but exposed in a way that left me raw.

The bar's warm light spilled out onto the pavement, stretching across the street like it was trying to pull us back into something softer. We stepped through the door, and the noise swallowed us whole, voices, laughter, the low hum of a jukebox that didn't quite drown out my thoughts. But none of it touched the chill knotted in my chest.

I glanced at Colt. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the room like it was muscle memory. He didn't speak, but he didn't need to. The worry was there, tucked into the slope of his shoulders, the way his hand hovered close to the small of my back. Not quite touching, but close enough to catch me if I slipped.

"Here," Colt said, low, as he guided me through the crush of bodies.

I didn't want to lean into him. But the truth sat heavy beneath my ribs: being alone right now terrified me.

The noise softened as we slipped toward the back, where a table waited in the corner. Dim light pooled across it, warm and low, but the tension between us didn't budge. It clung close, unspoken, breathing down the back of my neck.

The crowd thinned as Colt guided me toward a table tucked low in the back corner, half-swallowed by shadow. The light above it flickered soft and amber, like it was trying to be kind. It felt like a hiding place. But the tension between us still buzzed, sharp and quiet, like a wire stretched too tight.

I didn't even see the woman until we were nearly on top of her. She was already looking up, like she'd been waiting, not impatient, just certain.
Older, but not in the way people mean when they say it. She looked ageless the way mountains do. Her dark hair was pulled back clean, nothing fancy, but it suited her. Her face held the kind of calm that only comes after surviving a lifetime's worth of storms. And not one of those storms had knocked the steel out of her spine.

She glanced at Colt, and something passed between them. Not a word. Just a shift. Familiar. Easy. Like I'd walked straight into a moment I wasn't meant to witness.

Who the hell is she?

Colt pulled out a chair for me, his hand resting on the back of it like he expected me to sit without question.
I didn't move. Not right away. My gaze jumped between him and the woman, trying to catch the rhythm of something I hadn't been taught to dance to. There was a tilt to the moment, subtle but sure, like I'd walked in halfway through a story and missed the part where the roles were handed out.

The woman didn't blink. She studied me, not with malice, but with that kind of quiet interest that makes you want to stand a little straighter without knowing why. Like she was mapping out the shape of me before I'd even opened my mouth.

And she wasn't surprised to see me. Not even close.

She looked at Colt with something between amusement and expectation, like she'd seen this scene coming before either of us had.

"Is she why you dashed off so abruptly?" Her voice was light, even playful, but there was weight behind it. The kind that pays attention. "Haven't seen you chasing after anyone in a long time."

Colt, of course, didn't flinch. Just settled into the chair like he belonged there, like this whole thing wasn't strange at all. His eyes flicked to her first, then back to me, steady as ever.

"Tessa, meet Lemon," he said, like that was all the explaining the moment needed. "Lemon, this is Tessa."

"Well," she said, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth, "I'm glad to finally meet someone who's gotten this one's attention."

I glanced at Colt, hoping for something in his face that might clue me in. Anything. But he was doing that thing again, that maddening quiet of his, the one where you could throw a dozen questions at him and get a single look in return. Calm. Steady. Like he didn't feel the weight of any of it.

His eyes found mine. And just for a second, something unspoken passed between us. Something I couldn't name.

"I wouldn't say that," I muttered, the heat creeping up my neck before I could stop it. "We just met today."

Tessa's smile widened, but she didn't push. "Really? Just today? You've already got him chasing after you. That's impressive."

Colt let out a low groan, leaning back in his chair like he was already regretting this. "Tess," he muttered, tired but not truly annoyed.

She just laughed, the sound easy and full, like it came from a warmer place than teasing alone. "I'm just saying. You know how he is—always off in that head of his, brooding like it's a full-time job. It's good to see him looking at something other than the inside of his own damn thoughts."

I glanced at Colt, searching his face for something, anything, but he gave me nothing. That same unreadable calm, like he'd mastered the art of giving nothing away just enough to drive a person crazy.

Beside me, Tessa watched closely. I could feel it, the way her eyes lingered, not sharp, not unkind, but careful. Measuring. Like she was waiting to see if I'd flinch.

But there was something else there, too. A flicker of something softer. Almost like relief.

Tessa's smile stayed put, but there was a glint behind it now, something sharp, curious, like she was peeling the edge of a secret just to see what might spill out.

"So," she said, voice airy but threaded with something that cut a little deeper, "how did you two meet?"

My heart gave a little stutter at the question, stupid and small, but there all the same.

"We met at the rodeo," I said, trying to keep my voice flat, like the memory didn't still make my jaw tighten. "Colt put money on me to break the barrel racing record. Thought I was a safe bet, apparently."

Tessa's eyebrows shot up, the surprise flickering across her face before settling into something amused.

"Bet on you?" she echoed, turning to Colt like she couldn't decide if he'd lost his mind or just gotten braver. "That's bold. Even for you."

Colt didn't so much as blink. Just leaned back in that easy way of his, like the whole thing had gone exactly how he'd planned. His fingers tapped slow against the side of his glass, but when his eyes met mine they were still. Steady.

"It wasn't a risk," he said, quiet but sure. "I knew she'd win."

His calm confidence sparked that same ripple of frustration I'd felt the first time he told me about the bet. Like he knew better. Like he always did. I narrowed my eyes, leaned in just enough to make the space between us feel smaller.

"You didn't know anything about me," I said, voice low, words tight around the edges. "You guessed."

For the first time, something shifted in his face. Just barely. A flicker I couldn't name. His eyes stayed on mine, unblinking, like he was trying to hand me an answer without saying too much.

"It wasn't a guess," he said, quiet and sure, like the idea of him being wrong had never once occurred to him. "I saw you ride. I knew."

There it was again. That bone-deep certainty. The kind that made you want to shove back just to see if it would crack. But it didn't.

And maybe that was the part that got to me the most, that I wanted it to crack, and at the same time, I didn't.

Tessa's laugh slipped in, light and amused, like she'd been watching something unfold and finally got the punchline.

"Well, Lemon," she said, arms folding as she leaned back with a smile that saw more than she let on, "sounds like he's got you all figured out. Not many people can say Colt Langmore bet on them and won."

I almost scoffed. Almost threw something sharp back just to lighten the moment. But the words stuck. Because deep down, it wasn't just the bet that mattered. It was the way he said it. The way he meant it.

I glanced at Colt, sitting there with that maddening calm, like he hadn't just knocked the wind out of me without even raising his voice. His fingers rested easy on the table, posture loose, like nothing about this moment rattled him. But his eyes...god his eyes, there was nothing easy about the way they held mine.

How the hell could someone who'd only just met me look at me like that?

The thought made something uneasy stir in me. My instincts flared, quick and stubborn, ready to push back just for the sake of holding onto something that still felt like mine. Control. Distance. Whatever thin shield I had left between who I was and who people thought I should be. I wasn't ready to look too closely at whatever it was Colt thought he saw. Hell, I wasn't even sure I wanted to know.

But the way he'd said it unsettled something deeper. It hadn't been about the ride. Not really. He wasn't betting on my time around the barrels.

He was betting on me.

And maybe that's what rattled me the most.

Because in the arena, I knew who I was. I knew what I could do. The speed, the control, the calculation, those were mine. Out here, though?

Expectations like that didn't feel like hope. They felt like weight. Like pressure pressing down in places I hadn't hardened. And Colt's gaze didn't help. It wrapped around me, steady and unrelenting, like he wasn't just looking at me, but through me. Like he saw past the practiced grit and the legacy stitched into my last name.

Like I wasn't just Tex Odell's daughter or the girl trying to outrun a future someone else picked out for her.

My pulse climbed. The pressure curled tight in my chest, and I had to look away, anywhere but him. His stare was too much. Too precise. It made me feel like I was coming apart at the seams, like he was tugging loose a thread I didn't even know had started to fray.

Then his phone buzzed against the table. A small sound, but it cut through everything. Colt's jaw ticked as he glanced down, and for a breath, I thought maybe he'd ignore it.

He didn't.

He stood without a word, slipping the phone into his pocket. His hand paused on the back of his chair, fingers brushing the worn wood like he wanted to say something but didn't.

I watched him go, something pulling tight in my chest like a cinch drawn one hole too far. It wasn't just that he left, it was how he left. Quick, quiet, like the world on the other end of that call had more claim on him than the one right in front of him.

The door swung shut behind him, and I just sat there, staring at the space he'd left behind. That steady calm he always wore like it was stitched into his skin, it had cracked the second his phone lit up.

And I hated the way my mind spun with it.

Who was on the other end?

Why did it matter so damn much to me?

"Don't overthink it," Tessa said, her voice cutting clean through the fog in my head. She sounded amused, like she'd seen this kind of spiral before and knew exactly how it ended. "Colt's always got something pulling at him. Usually in a hundred directions at once."

"I wasn't—" I started, but the words landed wrong, brittle and half-formed. Even I could hear it. Defensive in a way I hadn't meant to be.

"Yeah, you were," she said with a knowing smile. "I've seen that look before."

I looked down, my fingers dragging along the wood grain like there was something hidden in it worth finding.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, but even that felt too rehearsed, too practiced. The kind of line you say when you do know.

Tessa's laugh was quiet, but it held that edge of experience, like she'd seen this kind of thing play out before and already knew the ending.

"Look," she said, easy, like we were just two girls sharing a drink and not circling something heavier, "I'm not saying you've gotta figure him out tonight. Colt's a puzzle most people don't get close to solving. And I think he likes it that way."

Her words hung there, soft but solid, like dust in a shaft of light. A puzzle.

I hated how right it felt.
Worse, I hated that I was already trying to solve him, mentally laying out the pieces, tracing edges I didn't even understand. He wasn't the kind of person you could pretend not to notice. He had gravity. Pulled you in whether you meant to move or not.
And maybe that's exactly why I should be walking the other way.

"I don't know if I'm trying to solve anything," I muttered, eyes still on the table.

But the tightness in my chest said otherwise.

Everything about him was tangled. Too much. Too soon. Too everything.

"Yeah," she said, voice easy, almost fond. "He has a way of doing that—being unexpected."

She let the words breathe before she went on.

"But don't let him get too deep in your head. That's how he works. Quiet. Always watching. He'll make you feel like you're the one steering the whole thing, but trust me... Colt's already five steps ahead."

I wanted to scoff, to toss off some dry remark and pretend the thought didn't land.

"Sounds exhausting," I said, and tried to make it land light, like a joke. But even to my own ears, it rang a little hollow.

It was exhausting, just not in the way I wanted to admit out loud. Not the kind that came from dealing with someone difficult. It was the kind that came from feeling too much, too fast. From being seen in ways I wasn't ready for. From having parts of myself stirred up that I thought I'd already sorted out and put to rest.

Tessa grinned, pulling her wallet from her bag like this conversation was just one of many she'd had on the topic. "It can be," she said, sliding her card across the table with practiced ease. "But trust me. When he lets you in..."

Her smile softened, just a little.

"It's worth it."

I didn't get the chance to respond. The door opened with a soft creak that cut straight through the moment, and there he was, Colt, stepping back inside like the night hadn't swallowed him whole just minutes ago.