Page 18 of Ride Me Reckless (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #1)

Chapter Eighteen

All In

Colt

I pulled up and parked next to Tessa’s little camper. It looked the same from a distance—still tucked under the shade of a couple of stubborn oaks—but as I stepped out, I noticed a few new touches.

A strand of faded fall garland was draped around the awning, and a shiny copper wind chime twisted in the breeze, catching just enough sunlight to flash like fire. It clinked gently, that hollow, melodic sound that made me pause for a second. It was peaceful, even hopeful.

I looked up. The trees were already starting to shift—amber and gold creeping into the green.

A handful of leaves danced to the ground as if reminding me winter was on deck, just waiting in the wings to blow in hard.

And no matter how tough she was, there was no way Tessa could ride out a Central Montana winter in this damned tin box.

Subzero temps, sideways snow... Hell, even the wind here had a mean streak in April.

I walked up the makeshift steps and knocked gently. The door creaked open just a few seconds later.

“Hey, cowboy,” she said, smiling.

She looked good. Tired, yeah—but she’d pulled herself together. Jeans, boots, a soft cream sweater, and her hair braided over one shoulder.

“Well, would you look at you,” I said, sliding my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t do something stupid, like reach for her. “All polished up and ready for the doc.”

Her smile widened, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re late.”

“Five minutes,” I countered. “You try drivin’ with the donut shop’s coffee bouncing around in your cupholder like it’s got a death wish.”

She stepped out, pulling the door closed behind her. “You brought me coffee?”

“Only if you’re nice to me… and it’s caffeine free,” I teased, offering her the to-go cup with a smirk.

She took it and sipped, closing her eyes like it was the best thing she’d tasted all week. “I’ll consider it. You’re off to a good start.”

We stood there for a beat longer than necessary. The breeze caught her braid and tossed it over her shoulder, and I swear I forgot how to breathe for a second.

“You ready?” I asked finally, tipping my head toward the truck.

She nodded, and as she climbed in, I caught myself staring at the trailer again—at its thin walls and lack of foundation other than two small tires. She was hanging on, but just barely.

That was the thing about Tessa—she was built tough, like the cars she raced. But even the best engines needed fuel, shelter, and someone to tune them up now and then.

I opened the driver’s side door, climbed in, and made a silent vow as I turned the key in the ignition.

She wasn’t going to go through this winter alone. Not if I had anything to do with it.

The cab of my truck was warm, the heater already pushing out air that smelled of new leather. Tessa buckled herself in without a word, cupping her coffee like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. I didn’t rush her. She’d talk when she was ready.

We pulled onto the main road, tires humming over asphalt. The cottonwoods lining the ditch were flashing yellow now, tossing leaves like confetti every time the breeze swept through. We had about twenty minutes till we hit Lovelace, give or take, and for once, I didn’t mind the drive.

“How you feelin’ today?” I asked, glancing over.

She shrugged, but it wasn’t the heavy kind she used to give me back when she was barely holding it together. This one had more weight to it—more purpose. “Better,” she said. “Less like I’m spiraling. More like I’ve got my hands back on the wheel.”

I smiled at that. “What are you going to do with Reckless ?”

Tessa laughed—soft and short, but real. “Actually, we might be saying goodbye to her soon.”

I raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, blowing on her coffee. “Callie and I have a buyer. Serious guy. From Billings. Runs a restoration shop and wants to get Reckless into exhibition races—nostalgia drags. Says he’ll keep the name and everything.”

I whistled low. “That’s a hell of a legacy. You okay with lettin’ her go?”

Her jaw tightened just a hair. “Not really. But we need the money, and honestly… It’s time.”

I nodded. I didn’t pretend to understand what it felt like to part with something that defined you for so long. But I could tell this wasn’t just about selling a car. It was about closing a chapter.

“Got the insurance company comin’ this week,” she added. “They’re finally sending someone out to appraise Mom’s place.”

“Think it’ll be enough to rebuild?”

Her voice wavered a little. “I hope so. But even if it is… I don’t know if she could handle it. That house was her life. Everything in it. Pictures, keepsakes, Dad’s old rodeo trophies… all gone.”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “That’s hard. But you’re doing everything you can.”

She turned her head, looking out the window. “I picked a place in town for her. Memory care facility. It’s not fancy, but the staff seems kind, and they’re used to handling… well, you know. The confusion. The wandering.”

“You mean the scary stuff,” I said quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah. That.”

“You made a good call, Tess.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Feels like all I do lately is make decisions I’m not sure about and hope something sticks.”

“You’re makin’ the best calls you can with what you’ve got,” I told her. “That takes guts.”

She looked at me then. Really looked. And whatever she saw in my face must’ve reassured her, because her shoulders relaxed, just a little.

“I just don’t want her to feel like I’m abandoning her.”

“You’re not.”

I meant it. If anyone was carrying more than her fair share, it was Tessa. And here she was, sitting next to me, not complaining, not running—just facing it all head-on. I didn’t know how she hadn’t burned out by now.

Most people would’ve cracked. Hell, I might’ve cracked.

The road curved, and I eased into it, glancing her way again.

Whatever this was between us… it wasn’t casual anymore. Maybe it hadn’t been for a while. I wasn’t just here to play chauffeur. I was here because I wanted to be.

I was in this whole damn thing, for real.

All in.

That meant showing up for the little things, too—even the ones that made my stomach twist with nerves.

The exam room smelled like something between baby powder and disinfectant. Tessa sat on the edge of the padded table, the paper beneath her crackling with every nervous shift.

The nurse had already been in and out, cheerful and chatty, cracking a few jokes that actually got Tessa to laugh. I played along—couldn’t help it. Anything to take that crease out of her forehead.

Now it was just the two of us again, waiting.

She was quiet, fingers twisted together in her lap. I could tell her mind wasn’t here—not really. It was back somewhere else. Somewhere darker.

“You okay?” I asked gently.

She gave a short nod, but it didn’t come with a smile this time. “Yeah. Just... kinda nervous.”

I knew what she meant. She didn’t have to explain.

Before long, the door opened again, and Dr. Jensen came in. He was wearing a soft blue shirt under his white coat and a tie with little storks on it. He looked like the man who’d delivered half the babies in the county.

“Morning, Tessa,” he said, pulling up his stool. “Colt. Good to see you both.”

I offered him a polite nod, but my eyes stayed on her. She straightened just a little, trying to look composed and brave.

Dr. Jensen glanced at the screen on his laptop. “Looks like you’re about eight weeks, give or take. First prenatal, right?”

Tessa nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, first thing—we’ll get some bloodwork done today. Then we’ll schedule the ultrasound so we can confirm the due date and check on how the baby’s doing.”

He spoke as if this were all routine. Easy. But I saw Tessa’s shoulders tense.

“Doc,” she said quietly, “I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago. Around the same time, maybe even a little sooner.”

His face softened instantly. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I know that leaves a scar, even if no one can see it.”

She blinked fast and stared at her hands. “I just… I need to know. Is there something wrong with me? Should I be doing something different this time? Eating differently? Lying flat? I keep wondering if I did something wrong before…”

“Hey,” I murmured, reaching over to cover her hand with mine. She didn’t pull away.

Dr. Jensen leaned in a bit. “Miscarriages are more common than we talk about—one in four pregnancies, statistically. And most of the time, it’s not anything the mother did or didn’t do.

It’s just nature, chromosomes, things we don’t always control.

But I’ll do every test, every check, to make sure you’re supported every step of the way. ”

Tessa swallowed, her voice barely audible. “So you think I can carry this one?”

“I do,” he said without hesitation. “I think this baby has every chance in the world. And I think you’re stronger than you know.”

Her lip trembled, but she held it together. I didn’t know whether to wrap her up in my arms or just hold her hand tighter, so I did the only thing I could—stayed right where I was, steady as I could be.

“I’ll send in the ultrasound technician,” he added gently, standing up. “I want you to see that everything is going well. All right?”

Tessa nodded, wiping a tear quickly with the back of her hand.

When the door closed behind him, the room went quiet again, except for the low hum of the wall vent.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t be,” I told her. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you need. I’ve got you.”

The technician came in and helped her lie back, adjusting the monitor and wheeling over the portable ultrasound machine. I stayed seated beside the table, watching as Tessa pulled up her paper gown and exposed a patch of pale skin. I took her hand without thinking.

“You ready?” the technician asked, spreading the cold gel across her belly.

“Yeah,” Tessa whispered.

The machine buzzed softly as the nurse moved the probe. Static. Then a blurry black-and-white swirl. And then?—

“There it is,” she said softly. “That little flicker, right there? That’s the heartbeat.”

I leaned forward, squinting at the monitor. It looked like nothing and everything. Just a tiny, bean-shaped figure in a sea of gray, pulsing with the softest of rhythms.

“Can you hear it?”

The technician smiled and turned a dial.

And then we heard it. That fast, steady whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, like tiny galloping hooves echoing off the inside of my mind.

Tessa’s hand tightened in mine. Her eyes filled instantly, but she didn’t look away from the screen.

“That’s your baby,” she said, quieter now.

Tessa nodded, tears spilling over. “I didn’t get to hear it last time.”

I swallowed hard, feeling like I was holding my breath in a church pew. Sacred didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Everything looks perfect for this stage,” the woman added. “Strong heartbeat. Good placement. We'll print out a picture for you to take home.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked, hugging her shoulders.

She turned to me slowly. “That was real. I heard it.”

Outside, I opened the truck door for Tessa and climbed in behind the wheel. She turned to me, still a little dazed. “How do you feel?”

I just grinned and cranked the engine to life. “Peachy,” I said. “We’re goin’ for a little ride.”

She narrowed her eyes. “To where?”

I pulled onto the road and tapped the steering wheel like it had a secret.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

And as we rolled down the road, wind tugging at the last gold leaves of fall, I smiled to myself.

Everything was going exactly the way I’d planned.

Next stop: the big sell.

Time to show her the double wide.