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“I don’t have them.”

Colt grinned. Why did it put an extra pep in his step to know Remi didn’t want to give his pants back? “You probably slept in them last night.”

“I did no such thing. I wouldn’t want my sheets to smell like hay and horses.”

“My clothes are clean. They don’t smell.”

“Hay and horses, Colt,” Remi repeated. “Sometimes, you even smell like a wet dog.”

“Hey, dogs are man’s best friend.”

“Guess you don’t need me then. Or your shirts.”

“Now there are multiple shirts.” He was finally getting somewhere. How many had she hoarded?

“I don’t have the shirts. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

Colt rummaged in his sock drawer for a pair of boot socks. He really needed to do laundry. “You know what? Keep them. My clothes look better on you anyway.”

There was another pause on the line, and Colt looked up. Had he crossed the line? He danced around the line all the time, but slipping up and taking it too far was a real fear. “Remi?”

“I’ve got to go if I’m going to make it in time for omelets.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

Colt tossed his phone back onto the bed and sighed. He was bound to screw up one day, and Remi’s reactions to his playful comments were getting stronger by the day.

Grabbing a pair of socks, he sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his sore arm to his foot. The pull in his shoulder was barely a dull ache until he actually had to use it to do some daily task, like putting on socks. Did he really need them today? He could get through a church service without them, right?

After a long-fought battle with the socks, he made it to the kitchen just as Ridge was emerging from his bedroom.

“How’s the shoulder?” Ridge asked.

Colt pulled out the tub of coffee grounds. “Still useless. Be glad you can still dress yourself.”

“Yeah, I thank the Lord for that every day. I’m guessing I have maybe thirty years before this beat-up body breaks down.”

Colt shuddered. He’d been rough on his body his whole life, but he hadn’t subjected himself to professional tacklers on the football field the way Ridge had. “Does Cheyenne know what she has to look forward to?”

Ridge sighed as he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Taking care of her mom right now is probably good practice. Maybe I should ask her if she’s still sure about marrying a man who’s bound to fall apart before their kids get married.”

“Nah, Cheyenne’s in it for the long haul,” Colt said.

The garage door opened, and Cheyenne stepped in. “Are you two talking about me?”

Cheyenne had come to the ranch to dig up dirt on Ridge, but thankfully, she had a swift change of heart and confessed. She might have meant to stir up dust, but stepping up and owning mistakes wasn’t for the faint of heart. It took guts, and Colt respected her for telling Ridge about the plot against him.

Colt started the coffee brewing. “You’ll be happy to know that I try to trick him into talking smack about you all the time, and he never gives in.”

Cheyenne raised up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to Ridge’s cheek. “Good to know.”

Colt pulled the eggs out of the fridge. “I’m making omelets. Who wants one?”

“Not us,” Cheyenne said. “We’re having breakfast with Mom and Hadley.”

Colt pulled the spatula out of the utensil holder and wielded it like a sword. “I need to talk to you two about something. I know you’re getting married soon, so I went ahead and asked Jameson and Ava for one of the wranglers’ cabins on the ranch.”