Page 22 of Stirring Spurs (Rainbow Ranch #1)

BOONE

With breakfast over and the kitchen tidy, I set about slicing the ham to make sandwiches for lunch.

The knife moves easily through the tender meat, and I place each piece carefully on a plate, savoring the quiet rhythm of the task.

With the back door open, the last of the cool morning air sighs softly through the screen, carrying the sweet, earthy smell of damp grass.

As the sun climbs higher, its warmth creeps in like a promise of the day ahead.

I hear Billie before I see her, rustling out back with the hose. Probably rinsing off her tools or not wanting to use a glass, taking a quick drink.

“Abilene Anne,” I holler.

She doesn’t say a word, just steps inside, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm before walking over and lifting her chin. I take the hint and lean down to kiss her cheek. Little sisters really are a gift—one of those quiet blessings that only us with 'em can truly appreciate.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” She nods to the knife in my hand.

“Never bothering me,” I say. “What’s up? ”

She situates herself on the stool, curling a leg up, wrapping her arms around it, showcasing her ink.

“Taking a break. Told Winnie and Pepper I’d show them how to use the new stencil machine before I haul it to the studio. Just needed a breather first. Ham smells mighty fine.”

“Brown sugar. Ginger. Figured I’d get it sliced before it gets too hot out.”

She nods, her eyes flicking to the knife in my hand. “Beautiful out now, though.”

I shrug, though I'm already thinking about how much of the day is slipping by. “Yeah, hoping to get outside this afternoon.” I don’t need to say more. Billie knows me about as well as Beau. “But you didn’t come in to talk about ham or the weather, did you?”

She meets my eyes, the air between us shifting just a little. “Not exactly,” she says, drawing out the words. “Was actually wondering about you and Wylie.”

I pause, the knife still in my hand, but I don’t move it.

“What about us?”

Billie tilts her head, studying me like she used to do to the poor frogs she’d catch by the creek. “I don't know. You don’t seem to talk much about your… situation.” She raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

I blink, not sure if I’m relieved or uncomfortable. “Why the sudden interest?” I ask, though it comes out a little more defensive than I mean to be.

She shrugs, one side of her mouth curling up in that half smile of hers. “Just curious. You seem… happy. Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

A grin seems to arrive out of nowhere on my face. The thought of him. Us. Knowing my family’s noticing.

Billie taps her finger lightly against her toned arm, eyes glinting as she lowers her gaze for a second. “I mean, do you think it’s... gonna work? Between you two? He mentioned taking off after the rodeo.”

Saturday—only a few days away. Wylie still hasn’t talked to Beau. After all we’ve done. All he’s said. My gut tells me he wants to stay, but 'course it’s possible he’s having second thoughts.

I take a deep breath, unsure how much to say. Billie’s always been sharp, and there’s something about the way she asks that makes me want to be honest. Plus, I’ve never been able to fib to her.

“It’s complicated. We’ve got this... connection. On the one hand, it’s amazing. Wonderful.” I scrub my face, the stubble coarse. “But I’m also scared. Of letting him in. Of him leaving.”

Billie’s quiet for a long moment, the weight of my words hanging in the air.

Then she looks up at me, eyes soft but steady.

“Nobody’s saying you’ve gotta figure it all out right now.

You do so much caretaking. And we all appreciate it.

You. Love you. But, Boonie, maybe stop trying so hard to carry it all on your own.

You’re allowed to be taken care of, too.

People—especially the ones who love you—are supposed to help with that. ”

I blink at her, surprised by the insight. It’s not what I expected, but it’s exactly what I needed.

“Yeah,” I say, offering her a slice of ham, “maybe you’re right.”

She gives a little nod, as if that’s all she wanted to hear. Then, without missing a beat, she grins. “But hey, whatever you do, don’t forget to save me one of those sandwiches. This ham is freakin' delicious.”

I chuckle, nodding my head. “Now, that I can do.”

The rest of the day passes quickly, a blur of busy tasks and familiar routines.

Pris helps me prep the chickens out back for the barbeque, her sharp knife skills making quick work of the butchering while I season the meat, a mix of salt, pepper, and Ma’s secret spice blend.

The smell of the marinade fills the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the ranch.

When we finally sit down to eat, Ma’s sauce receives the usual round of praise—everyone’s favorite part of the meal, always.

Even though I’ve seen it a hundred times, there’s something about the way the sauce glistens on the grilled chicken, the tang of tomatoes mixed with the smoky sweetness of the grill that makes it irresistible.

A warm smile bubbles on my face when I imagine Ma giving an approving nod up in Heaven.

After dinner, Winnie, always the organized one, takes over with a quiet determination, finishing up the dishes and prepping for breakfast. It’s almost like clockwork, the way she moves—efficient, careful, never rushing but always getting things done.

I give her a minute to finish up, making sure the kitchen is tidy before I turn toward the back door.

Cool evening air arrives just as the sun dips lower in the sky.

It’s time to clean the grill. The barbeque still holds the remnants of a good meal, the charred bits of chicken skin and the faint smell of smoke lingering.

I grab the wire brush, the scraping sound against the grill’s surface oddly soothing, almost meditative.

As I work, my mind wanders, the quiet of the evening settling over me like a blanket.

I know Wylie wants to stay. Not because he’s said it, which he has, but because it’s the kind of thing you pick up on, like when you can tell a dish is just about ready without even looking at the clock. It’s a feeling, deep in your gut.

I’ve stopped asking about talking to Beau.

Don’t want to pressure him. He’s got to do it on his own.

Pa used to always say, “A man’s got to find his own way, even if it means stumbling through the dark to get there.

” Some things, you let unfold in their own time, like Noodles learning to trust Wylie—it takes patience.

Once the grill’s clean, I sit on the two hay bales gathered out back for that purpose, watching the sky turn darker and the stars blink into existence. I don’t rush back inside. A chill settles in, and for a second, everything slows down, the rhythm of the day fading into the calm of the evening.

“Best damn barbeque I’ve ever had.”

Wylie’s voice comes through the screen door.

I don’t reply right away. The wooden frame slaps softly, like he held it until the last moment. Dried straw shifts under us as he takes a seat next to me.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” I say.

“Still got a taste of it on my lips. Kinda hope it lingers for a spell.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Mr. Anderson, are you hinting at something?”

I turn fully toward him, the moonlight catching the angles of his face, all stubble and jawlines. His eyes widen, and his brow lifts, as if I’ve just asked him if he’s seen a pig flying across the sky.

A playful glint sparkles in his eyes. “I realize it’s your family’s recipe, but...” He taps a teasing finger near his lips. “Wanna taste?”

I can’t help myself. His charm, his mouth, the way he’s looking at me—he’s impossible to resist. Without thinking, I lean in .

For a moment, I’m stuck there, caught in his gaze, the pull of something I can’t quite define tugging at my torso, like he’s daring me to take the bait.

I slope forward just a little, drawn in by that quiet confidence he wears so effortlessly. I’m close enough now to feel the warmth of his breath, to see the way his lips curl ever so slightly at the corners, taunting me.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t push me. But there’s a stillness in the air between us. It’s charged with the kind of tension I can’t ignore.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” His smile widens, eyes glinting. “The best kind.”

And for some ridiculous reason, I can’t argue with that.

My mouth lands on his, and before I get to kissing him, I run my tongue along his lips, and sure enough, there’s a hint of sauce there. Mostly ginger and cumin, and a satisfied grin eases onto my face, thinking about him savoring it as I do the same to him.

“Mmmh,” he moans into me. “Nothing compares to these.”

He takes a nibble at my lower lip, sending sparks through me—just a gentle, teasing tug, but enough to make everything else fade into the background. The light pressure of his teeth against my skin sends goosebumps rushing over my arms.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the soft brush of his lips and the lingering warmth of his breath. His eyes are steady on mine, and there’s something unspoken between us. This isn’t like anything I’ve experienced before. Pretty sure it’s love.

I can feel the pulse in my neck, the quiet thrum of anticipation as his tongue parts my lips.

Carefully, he pushes me against the house, moving an arm across my chest, holding me in place.

He’s so close, and yet my mind wanders away.

I don’t mean to, but a sound escapes my mouth into him. A whimper, like a hurt animal.

Wylie pulls back, scanning my face, as he pushes his hat back into place.

“Did I hurt ya?”

“No, I’m good.” I tug on his shirt, wanting him near, but also scared of what that means.

He moves forward, taking my gesture as an invitation to return, but I move my face to his shoulder, looking up at him.

“No, Boone. You’re not okay. What’s going on?”

He bites at his lower lip, moving his hands to my waist, never breaking contact.

“Rodeo’s Saturday.”

“Reckon Noodles isn’t ready to ride,” Wylie says, face softening as he talks about the horse. “But I can walk him, show him. Dennis will tag along to soothe him from the crowd. It’ll be good for him. Noodles, not Dennis. That bugger’s got more confidence than a bull in a china shop.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” I say.

His firm chest under my cheek, looking away, feeling brave, I spit it out.

“And then, thinking about where you’ll go next?”

“'Scuse me?”

He pushes me off him, sitting up straight, taking my hands in his.

“Boone Adams. You listen to me.” His thumb and index finger grasp my chin, drawing my gaze to his.

“I’m staying. Thought you wanted that.” He runs his thumb along the back of my palm.

“Been spending all my nights in your room, anyway. Hoping to make it permanent if you wanted. Would free up my room for someone new. ”

My heart picks up, hearing him say it.

“But you haven’t…” I pull my lips in, my head shifting, taking another route. “Want me to talk to Beau about it? About you. Staying. Really, I don’t mind.”

“Already asked him to chat tomorrow. I need to do this. 'Cause it’s not just about me staying.”

His fingers land on my face, his thumb sweeping across my cheek.

“Huh?”

My mind races, trying to figure out what he’s talking about.

“Boone, I want you to be my buckaroo. My cookie. My guy. This is all I want.” With his free hand, he pats my chest, right where my heart beats. “You. I finally feel at home. And well, with your folks gone, gotta talk to someone about my intentions. Seems Beau fits the bill.”

My whole body buzzes. Like spurs stirring over my skin—from the tips of my fingers to the deepest part of my chest. The world seems to shift, and for the first time, maybe ever, everything feels… right.

Leaning into his touch, I lift my chin, capturing his lips with mine, kissing him like our futures depend on it—because, after what he’s said, it sure seems like they do.