Page 11 of 11 Cowboys

Welcome to Cooper Hill Ranch.

I roll over, groan, and bury my face in the soft pillow that smells of cedar laundry detergent and fresh air. The room’s too bright, I’m too tired, and there’s no coffee within reach, which should be a crime.

By the time I drag myself out of bed, shower, throw on jeans and a blue cotton shirt, and make it to the kitchen, the house is already buzzing.

The men are scattered. The kids are half-dressed, half still in their pajamas, and louder than any group of humans should be before eight A.M.

“Morning, sunshine.” Levi winks, sliding a biscuit onto a plate and shoving it in my direction.

“I don’t speak before caffeine,” I mutter as my body reacts to his proximity with a raging surge of heat.

“Lucky for you, I do.” He passes me a chipped mug with steam curling out of the top. “Here’s your morning medicine. Conway wants you outside after breakfast. Cody and Nash’ll show you around.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being handed off like a lost dog?”

He grins, flashing me with those dimples that annihilate sense and reason. “Because you are.”

***

Ten minutes later, I’m outside, squinting in the morning sun, already sweating, as I follow Cody and Nash to the barn.

The land stretches out around us like a painting of golden fields, dusty trails, and fence lines disappearing into the horizon. There’s a slow beauty here that’s unrushed and undemanding. It’s charming enough to settle my skin in a way a city skyline never has.

Cody leads the way with ease that says he belongs to this place, his shaggy brown hair catching the light, his sun-kissed skin glowing, and that calendar-worthy smile out in full force. He walks with surety, like the dirt knows him and trusts him back.

Nash trails a few steps behind. Quieter and leaner, he’s the type of man you don’t notice at first, but once you do, you can’t stop watching. His smile is small and careful, as if it costs him something to give, which somehow makes it worth more.

“This here’s the west pasture,” Cody says, gesturing with a gloved hand. “We let the cattle roam most days. Fences are solid, but we still check every week or so.”

“Guess what you’re doing today?” Nash adds with a quiet grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I stop walking. “Oh, no. I’m here to observe, not work.”

“Too late,” Cody says, handing me a pair of gloves with a wink.

We walk the fence line for over an hour, and I have a mouthful of questions I don’t let loose. I have time to get to the center of this article, but right now, working alongsidethem feels like the right thing to do. By the time we hit the halfway point, I’d tripped twice, stepped in something suspicious, and sweated through the shirt I expected to wear for the whole day.

But I haven’t fainted or died.

And weirdly, I’m enjoying being out from behind my desk.

Cody chats the whole way, easy and unfiltered. He talks about the land, the animals, and the work, mentioning nothing about the lack of a female presence on the ranch or their goal of recruiting a superwoman to take on this huge family. But it’s Nash I keep stealing glances at. He moves quietly and carefully, checking fence posts with a practiced hand, never rushing, never missing a beat, looking out over the cattle like they’re long-lost friends.

“You guys grew up out here?” I ask.

“Yup,” Cody says. “All of us. Grandparents took us in after the accident. We learned to work before we learned to drive.”

The accident is quickly brushed over, and I don’t ask about it. I have time to tackle the hard stuff once we get to know each other a little better.

I wipe sweat from my neck with the hem of my shirt, bearing my belly for a second.

Cody looks over, eyes twinkling. “You’re doing better than most city folk.”

“You mean because I haven’t cried yet?”

“Yet.”

Nash chuckles behind me. “Give it time.”