Page 5 of Promised Cowboy

Mind? Lord, woman, I’d have driven straight through the night to see you sooner if I knew you were here.

Instead, I say, “’Course I don’t mind. You’re always welcome.”

I set my duffel down near the stairs, forcing my legs to carry me into the kitchen like I’m not internally reeling. My boots scuff across the worn hardwood as I cross toward them.

Her eyes follow every step.

The electricity between us hums, invisible but alive.

I shake my father’s hand automatically, my focus only half on him as he claps my shoulder and launches into small talk about the hay order I just finalized. I nod in the right places, but my eyes keep drifting back to her.

Lacey sits quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her iced tea glass, her gaze darting to mine, then away again.

The easy comfort we’ve always shared is still here, but there’s something new layered beneath it now. Heavier. Unspoken.

Finally, Dad stands with a satisfied sigh. “Well, I’m gonna head out to the barn, check on the mare before it gets too dark. You two catch up.” His eyes twinkle with that same damned mischievous glint I saw in Mason last year when Wyatt brought Rachel home for the first time.

He knows.

They all know.

The door swings shut behind him, leaving us alone.

The kitchen seems smaller now. Warmer. Charged.

Lacey clears her throat, offering a soft smile. “I didn’t mean to ambush you your first night home.”

“You didn’t,” I say quickly. “Best surprise I’ve had in a long time.”

Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head for half a second before looking back up. “I figured you’d swing by Shadowbrook first.”

I shrug, leaning against the counter across from her, needing the distance for my own sanity. “Thought I’d clean up before seeing company.”

“Well,” she teases, voice lighter now, “you still look like you’ve been driving all day.”

I huff a laugh. “I have been.”

The silence stretches, not awkward, but weighted. Comfortable, but with something pulsing just beneath the surface.

“You look good, Colton,” she says softly.

My chest tightens. “So do you.”

The words feel too small for what I mean. She doesn’t just look good. She looks like home.

Her fingers toy with her glass again. “I’ve missed this place.”

“You’ve missed Silver Creek?”

“Shadowbrook. Here. All of it.” She pauses. “Missed you too.”

The simple honesty of it nearly floors me.

“I’ve missed you too, Lace.”

The nickname slips out before I can catch it, like it’s been waiting all this time to be used again.

She smiles—small, genuine, and full of something I can’t quite name yet.