Page 9 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

HOLT

T he light cast dancing shadows across Keltie’s face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbones and the thoughtful expression in her eyes. We sat in comfortable silence, the crackle of the logs the only sound beyond Luna’s soft breathing from the next room.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this content simply sitting with someone. No expectations. No pressure. The rock star life I’d lived for the past few years had been a blur of venues, hotels, and faces—rarely allowing for moments like this.

When she caught me watching her, a flush crept across her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, though it was everything. The way her dark curls fell loose around her shoulders. The amber flecks in her eyes that caught the firelight. The strength I sensed beneath her vulnerability. Everything about her drew me in, in a way I couldn’t explain.

Keltie pulled her legs up under her, getting comfortable on the sofa. “Earlier, at my house, you said something about family obligations keeping you from touring with CB Rice. I’m guessing there’s a story there.”

I rested against the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me. “There is. Not a short one, either.”

“I’ve got time,” she said, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Unless you’d rather not talk about it.”

I hesitated, weighing how much to share.

The trust wasn’t something the Wheatons discussed with outsiders.

Even the ranch hands who’d worked for our family for generations didn’t know the details.

But looking at Keltie, I realized I didn’t think of her as an outsider anymore.

Something about her felt safe—like she belonged here.

“Have you heard much about our family’s ranch?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“As you know, it’s called the Roaring Fork.

Been in my father’s family since the eighteen hundreds.

Anyway, after he died, we found out about something called the Roaring Fork Trust.” I took a deep breath, wondering where to begin.

“At first, we thought this thing was his doing—controlling bastard that he was. However, now, we aren’t so sure. ”

Her head cocked, and I chuckled.

“I told you this was a long story.”

“I’m still with you.”

“Anyway, after he died, his lawyer called us in for the reading of the will. That’s when we learned about the trust and its, err, unusual stipulations.

The entire ranch—everything—was placed in a trust with specific conditions that we eventually learned each of the siblings had to meet.

If we didn’t, it would all be sold and given to charity. ”

Her brow furrowed. “What kind of conditions?”

“Weird ones. Buck had to live on the ranch for a year. He’d left right out of high school, swearing he’d never be back after the way our father treated him.” I ran a hand through my hair, memories of those tense family dinners surfacing. “Our old man was a tough guy to live with. Hardest on Buck.”

“It must have been difficult for him.”

“Understatement of the century,” I said, remembering the day Six-pack had delivered the news. “Buck was working for the CIA, living his own life. Had to drop everything and live on a ranch he didn’t plan to see again.”

I shifted, noticing how intently Keltie was listening.

“Our father had a way of making everyone around him feel small. For Buck, it was worse. Everything he did was wrong in our dad’s eyes.

When he left for college, Roscoe—that was our father’s name—threatened to cut him off completely.

Said if he turned his back on the ranch, he’d never own a square foot of it. ”

“That was harsh,” Keltie murmured.

“Right? But then he met TJ, fell in love, and now, they’ve got Buckaroo. What seemed like a punishment ended up being the best thing for him.” I smiled, thinking of how my brother had transformed from the tightly wound man he’d been to the contented husband and father he was now.

“TJ’s a journalist, right?” Keltie asked.

“Award-winning investigative reporter. Anyway, how their relationship developed is their story to tell, but I’ve never seen my brother happier.”

Keltie’s expression softened. “And that’s why Porter isn’t here tonight? The trust?”

“Exactly. His stipulation required him to move to Morris Ranch, which is about thirty miles from here, for a year.”

“Is that why you all seemed sad when Flynn mentioned him at dinner?”

“We miss him, but the irony is, going there was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. He reconnected with Cici Morris—they had a thing years ago. She owns the ranch now.”

I paused, considering how much to share about my brother’s struggles. “Porter was in a bad place before that… drinking too much, blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault.”

“What kind of things?” Keltie asked softly.

“My brother has a habit of shouldering blame that isn’t his. Protecting others even when it costs him. There was an incident—a drunk-driving accident. He took the fall for someone else. Lost his reputation in the rodeo community. Turns out he’d already made a commitment to his sobriety by then.”

Keltie’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Right? Well, anyway, the trust forcing him to Morris Ranch seemed like another punishment, but it became his salvation. Cici saw through him in a way none of us could.”

“And now?”

“Sober over a year. Married to Cici—although that’s kind of a secret.

They’re holding off for the big announcement and shindig until after his year is up.

Regardless, he and Cici are building something real there—a partnership between our ranches for roughstock contracting.

He found himself, I guess you could say. ”

Keltie tucked a curl behind her ear, her expression thoughtful. “What about Cord? Does he have a story too?”

“Cord’s was the strangest. He had to go live in East Aurora, New York, for a year. None of us had even heard of the place. It turns out that’s where our mother was from.”

“Really? And none of you knew that?”

I shook my head, remembering the shock when we’d discovered our mother’s hidden past. “Our mom died when Flynn was a toddler. I was seven. We didn’t know much about her life before Colorado. She never talked about it, and our father shut down any questions.”

The memory of my mother’s face flashed before me—her gentle smile, the way she’d sing me to sleep. She’d kept so many secrets from us, yet I couldn’t find it in me to be angry with her. Not anymore.

“Cord met Juni there and discovered all these connections to our mother’s past. Even found out we had cousins we never knew existed. Sam is one of them.”

She gasped. “Sam is your cousin?”

I scrubbed my face with my hand, wondering how much I should admit to. “But, uh, you and I aren’t. I mean, we’re on different sides of the family.”

I could see her shoulders drop in relief.

“That’s how I felt,” I said.

Keltie raised her chin. “The way you read me, it’s eerie sometimes.”

She didn’t know the half of it, but that was definitely not something I was going to bring up tonight or any time soon.

“Our mother kept a lot hidden that we’re still unraveling.”

I thought about the family tree Sam had shown us, the complex web of relationships that connected the Rookers, the Wheatons, and apparently, the Marquez family as well.

“There was a moment, when Cord first told us everything he’d discovered, that it felt like meeting our mother all over again.

Learning she’d had all this history we knew nothing about.

” I swallowed, surprised by the emotion that still surfaced when I thought about it.

“She told Cord something once, before she died. She said, ‘I pray that someday, when you learn about the decisions I’ve made, you can understand why and forgive me.’”

“She knew you’d find out eventually,” Keltie said softly.

“I think she did. I can’t help but wish she’d been here to explain it herself.”

Keltie reached across the space between us, her fingers brushing against mine. The touch sent warmth through me that had nothing to do with the fire.

“It’s almost as if fate is directing you all to find your happiness,” she said, her voice gentle.

I snorted. “It’s not fate. It’s a faceless, nameless trustee, who set the whole thing up to remain anonymous.”

She must have heard the edge in my voice, because her expression turned more serious. “What do you mean by anonymous?”

“The trust is managed by an LLC we know nothing about. Six-pack—our family attorney—claims he doesn’t know who’s behind it. He gets instructions and delivers them to us.”

“Six-pack?” Her mouth quirked up at the nickname.

“Yeah, we’ve known him since high school. He’s as much of a jerk now as he was then.”

“And he won’t tell you who’s pulling the strings?”

“Claims he doesn’t know.” I rolled my shoulders as the frustration of the past months bubbled up again.

Keltie moved her hand, resting it on my arm. “But your brothers all found happiness because of it, didn’t they? Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”

The trust had always felt like a manipulation, a final control tactic from beyond the grave. But she wasn’t wrong. Each of my brothers had found something—someone—that had changed their lives.

“Maybe you’re right,” I conceded. “But I hate the way he or she is going about it.”

“Sounds like you and your siblings might have control issues,” she said with a smile.

“Ya think?” I chuckled. “It’s the Wheaton family’s specialty.”

Her laugh was warm and genuine, drawing me in even further.

“So, what’s your stipulation? What do you have to do?”

“Stay in Crested Butte for a year. Like my brothers had to adhere to, I can’t leave town for more than forty-eight hours at a time.

On top of that, I have to play music at local establishments at least three nights a week and donate half my earnings to the Miracles of Hope Children’s Charity. ” I shrugged. “That’s it.”

“That doesn’t sound so terrible,” Keltie said.