Page 26 of Ride Me Reckless (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #1)

Bet on the Long Game

Several Months Later

Rhett Callahan

Which, of course, I had.

The place looked good. Real good. All that land, white fence stretching wide across green pastures, a proper wraparound porch with a couple of rocking chairs that looked brand new. Guess love really does make a man settle down and start landscaping.

The smoker was going out back, and the smell of slow-cooked ribs hit me like a freight train.

Kids were running in the grass. Women sipping iced tea and wearing sandals chatted near the steps.

Someone had strung up lights along the fence posts— Colt's doing, no doubt.

Funny thing was, none of it felt like a show.

It just looked… right, like this was always where things were meant to land.

I made my way up the paver pathway, nodding at a couple of neighbors I half-recognized from back in the day before we won the Powerball. Colt hadn’t just built a house out here—he’d built a life. And damned if it didn’t suit him.

I spotted Tessa first, barefoot on the porch, cradling one of the twins like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Her hair was down, her laugh soft and real, like she hadn’t had a hard day in months.

Colt hovered nearby, holding the other baby like it was made of glass and gold all at once, shoulders tense like he’d body-check a bear if it got too close.

Tessa glowed like a woman who’d finally found her safe place. Colt looked like a man who knew damn well how lucky he was.

They’d gotten hitched a couple of months back. No crowd, no fanfare—just vows under the old oak tree near the fence line, Dalia crying into a hankie, and Colt looking at Tessa like she was the only thing keeping him standing.

Probably was.

Sawyer and Easton were there too, quiet and respectful, both in starched shirts and looking more polished than usual. It wasn’t their story being written that day, but you could tell they knew how much it mattered.

I watched the love birds for a second too long before adjusting my shades and rolling my shoulders back.

Happy endings weren’t really my style. Not because I didn’t want one. Just never figured out how to stick the landing.

I pulled a beer from the cooler by the steps, twisted the cap off, and raised it in their direction as Colt caught my eye. He grinned, nodded once.

Yeah. The cowboy finally found his way home.

I took a long drink and leaned against the porch rail, playing it cool even as something a little too honest twisted in my chest.

Couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—I was getting tired of playing it cool.

I barely had time to finish my beer before Tessa walked over with one of the babies bundled up in a soft yellow blanket.

"Here," she said, already placing him in my arms like it wasn’t a potential catastrophe waiting to happen.

"This one is Wyatt. We figured we’d ease you in with the chillist twin. "

I blinked down at the kid, who stared right back like he already knew all my secrets. Then—just like that—his tiny fist shot out and wrapped around my finger. Firm little grip, too. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

“Well, hell,” I chuckled. “I think I need something stronger than another beer.”

Tessa just smiled, proud and radiant. “He likes you.”

“Dangerous taste,” I said, but I wasn’t joking. Not entirely.

Charlotte Ann—Charlie, they said—was snoozing in Colt’s arms across the way, her pink hat slightly askew. Her tiny nose favored her mama’s already, and Colt looked like he hadn’t slept in three days and didn’t care one bit.

“You got lucky,” I told Tessa, eyes still on Wyatt.

“I know,” she said softly. Then she leaned in a little closer and added, “It’s good to see you behaving yourself, Uncle Rhett.”

I huffed. “You wound me. I’ve always been a paragon of virtue.”

That earned a snort from behind me as Colt strolled up with Charlie balanced like a football in the crook of his arm. “Only thing Rhett’s good at is circling women like a buzzard. Just ask Callie.”

I shot him a side-eye. “Real funny, Bennett. You’re lucky your baby can’t understand words yet.”

“She’s smarter than she looks,” he said, brushing a kiss over Charlie’s fuzzy head. “She’ll know to stay away from trouble when she sees it.”

I handed Wyatt back to Tessa with more care than I knew I had in me. He gave a sleepy sigh, still holding tight to my finger until the very last second.

Colt chuckled. “Guess he likes you too.”

I watched as they both tucked the babies into matching bassinets on the porch, Dalia appearing behind them with two warm bottles and a smile on her face that said peace had finally returned to her world.

And damn if that didn’t hit somewhere deep.

I took a long, slow breath, then looked at those twins again—one already dreaming, the other blinking up at the sky like he couldn’t wait to take it on.

Hell, if this ain’t the jackpot, I don’t know what is.

I wandered off to the edge of the back pasture, where the scent of fresh-cut lumber drifted on the evening breeze. A skeleton of a structure stood just behind the main house—new framing, a pile of siding waiting its turn. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was.

Guest house.

I took a slow sip of my second beer. Usually, I would have been on my third or fourth by now. But with those damn babies around I was taking it easy out of respect. Then, I let my gaze drift back toward the porch.

Dalia sat in one of the rockers, feet tucked under her, a sleeping baby monitor resting in her lap like it belonged there.

She was smiling at something Tessa said, and I could see her nodding along, fully present, fully herself.

Every now and then, someone would stop to chat—a neighbor, someone from the old days—and she lit up with recognition like her mind was stringing the pieces back together again.

That woman had walked through hellfire and came out steady on the other side.

Colt wasn’t just building her a guest house. Hell, no. He was building her peace. Putting up walls she could lean on when memory got slippery—giving her something permanent in a world that had taken too much.

I respected the hell out of that.

Most guys throw money at problems and call it love. Colt built homes. Held babies like glass. He watched Tessa like she was his North Star and didn’t mind who saw it.

That kind of loyalty… it stuck with a man. Made him take stock.

I ran a hand down my jaw, the rough edge of stubble catching on my palm, and let the moment settle.

Maybe I wasn’t built for that kind of devotion. Or maybe… I just hadn’t found the right reason yet.

I spotted her the second she stepped out of the house—could’ve been the sun catching that copper hair, or the way those jeans fit like sin stitched in denim. Probably both.

Callie Hart.

Talking to Art Whitson about his newest bull like she didn’t have a care in the world. Laughing a little too loud, standing a little too stiff. Like someone told her to play happy and she’d damn well win an Oscar doing it.

I let the crowd drift between us for a minute, sipping my beer, playing it cool.

But then she looked my way.

Didn’t smile. Didn’t frown either. Just that unreadable Callie expression I’d known for years—the one that always made me want to get closer, figure out what was going on behind those eyes.

So I walked over, all swagger and ease.

“Well, look what the wind blew in,” I said, tipping my chin. “You sure cleaned up nice since the last time I saw you. Even wore those heartbreaker jeans.”

She raised a brow. “You mean the ones I was wearing when you nearly set my trailer on fire, making moonshine in a crockpot?”

I grinned. “That was one time. And technically, it was an electric pressure cooker.”

Callie snorted. “You’re lucky Tessa didn’t string you up for that.”

I leaned in slightly to make her aware of how close I was without stepping over that line. “You didn’t let me near that trailer again before you sold it. Makes a man wonder what kind of grudge you’re holding.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “That’s because I moved in with a real man.”

My grin didn’t falter—but something inside me did.

“Right. Matt, the manager.” The words tasted sour coming out.

She didn’t respond right away. Just sipped her tea like it had something stronger in it.

“How’s that working out for you?” I asked, tone easy, but eyes locked on hers.

She gave me a tight smile that didn’t impress me as sincere. “Peachy. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

And just like that, she turned and walked away, hips swinging, jaw set like steel.

I didn’t move. Just stood there watching her disappear through the screen door, wondering how deep the lie went.

Callie Hart might be stubborn, but I’m patient. And damn persistent.

If Matt were the real man she thought he was, she wouldn’t be hiding behind half-smiles and fake laughs. And if he wasn’t… well, then that bastard was gonna learn the hard way not to screw over someone Rhett Callahan gave a damn about.

I drained the last of my beer, and the glass bottle thudded against the metal trash can when I threw it in.

Yeah. Trouble was coming.

And for once, I wasn’t the one who started it.

The sky had turned that late-summer gold, all hazy edges and slow-fading heat, when Colt ambled up beside me with two glasses of something brown and strong. He handed me one without saying a word, then leaned against the porch post like he wasn’t still walking around in his happily-ever-after.

We both watched the yard in comfortable silence. Tessa swayed on the porch swing, holding baby Charlie in her arms. Dalia smiled beside Callie, who rocked side-to-side holding Wyatt with a burp cloth over her shoulder.

Colt took a sip and finally spoke. “She still stringing you along?”

I smirked, swirling the ice in my glass. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Ain’t said it was easy. Just said it’s worth it.”

I nodded once, letting his words settle in.

The truth was, I’d never minded the chase.

But Callie Hart wasn’t just another beautiful distraction.

She was whip-smart and battle-tested. She’d been burned before—still smelled the smoke.

And I had a feeling that manager of hers was about to fan those flames.

I’d be damned if I stood by and let her get singed again.

“You chased your girl,” I said, tilting my glass toward the swing. “Now it’s my turn.”

Colt followed my gaze, then clinked his glass against mine with a knowing grin. “Better bring a fire extinguisher.”

I chuckled. “Hell, I am the fire.”

He rolled his eyes and walked off to claim one of his squirming kids, leaving me alone again with the hum of crickets and the growing dark.

I took one last look at Callie, laughing now with Dalia, her smile softer… but her shoulders still too tight.

Some bets you take just for the thrill. Others you place because something deep down tells you it’s worth it.

Callie Hart?

She was the kind of gamble I’d spend the rest of my life trying to win.