Page 11 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

The corners of his mouth rise as he gestures toward the table, a hand resting briefly on the small of her back. I notice. So does she; her posture shifting slightly.

She offers polite nods through the introductions, her accent softening the edges of every word. Then Mrs. Mae makes her way over, slower now she’s older, but still beaming with warmth. With a soft, grandmotherly hum, she pulls Maeve into a hug.

“Welcome, sweetie. If you need anything at all, you come find me, alright? I’m basically the mother of this group of lovable buffoons, so don’t be shy, especially if you ever need some girl talk.”

Maeve stiffens and something flickers across her face. Then, just as quickly, her shoulders drop, and her features soften. And I swear… I swear I see a tear slip down her cheek.

I look back at my plate. Not my place. And yet the image stays with me longer than it should. A girl undone by a hug from a woman she met thirty seconds ago. Like it's been a long time since anyone held her like that.

Not my place, I remind myself again.

Once the niceties are over, Maeve and Colt fix themselves a plate and head over to the table. Two seats left, both right next to me. Great.

I’m not surprised when Colt takes the one farthest away, leaving Maeve sandwiched between us.

She offers me a brief smile as she sits. I don't return it, eyes on the plate.

Remember, Wade. Stay distant. Stay professional.

The kitchen fills with overlapping voices and laughter. I nod when I need to, give short answers, keep my eyes on the food. Maeve, though, is already winning the room. Everyone's hanging on her every word, Colt most of all. He hasn't stopped grinning since he walked through the door.

Bryan leans past me. “So, Maeve, you think you're ready for this line of work? It ain't an easy ride. Especially working alongside this old man.” He nudges me, hard enough that I bump into her.

I shoot him a glare. “You’re two months younger than me, Buck. Ease up with the ‘old man’ crap.”

Maeve jumps in before he can reply. “Please. I survived being trapped in a car with him for over an hour while he brooded like a Cowboy Batman. Whatever you’ve got can’t be worse.”

And just like that, the sass is back. Bryan throws his head back and lets out a laugh. “She’s gonna fit right in here, ain’t she, Bull?”

He’s not wrong. She’s barely been here an hour, and she has already settled into the team’s dynamic.

“She’ll be working with Colt anyway,” I mutter, reaching for my glass. “Won’t have to deal with my brooding ass.” I make sure the jab lands, both for her and everyone else.

Maeve doesn’t rise to it. Instead, she leans over me, angling closer to Bryan. “Buck and Bull? What’s the story there?”

She props her chin in the palm of her hand, eyes shining with curiosity.

I push my chair back and take my plate to the sink. I keep my hands busy under the running water while Bryan launches into it behind me.

“Well, ma’am,” Bryan says, puffing up with pride. “I’m Buck ’cause I’m a wild one. Never stop moving, like a bucking bronco. Some even say untameable.” He shoots her a wink, and she laughs, bright and real like everything about her. I scrub the plate a little harder. “And Mr. Carter over there?” he adds, gesturing toward me. “Back in the day, he was one hell of a bull rider. Hence, ”Bull”. We were the Buck and Bull Brothers. Been known by that ever since we were troublesome teens.”

I feel her eyes on my back before she even speaks.

“What made you stop bull riding?”

I turn the tap off.

“That's none of your business,” I say, flat and final, not turning around.

The quiet that follows has a particular weight to it. I don't need to look to know her smile has faded. A moment later Colt's voice smooths it over, easy and practiced. He's been covering for my silences his whole life. One more thing I never meant to teach him.

“Don’t take it personally. He’s like that with everyone, even me.”

He slips an arm around her shoulders, like he's trying to smooth over my typical asshole behaviour. At least I’m staying true to my word.

I set the plate on the rack and dry my hands; eyes fixed on the window above the sink. Outside, the last of the light is dropping behind the hills, the sky bleeding out into deep amber.

Behind me, Colt laughs at something she says. Easy and unguarded.