Page 74 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

I scoot my chair over, and that’s when I see it.

A full business plan lights up the screen. Graphs, contact lists, financial projections, even a logo mock-up. It's very detailed. A level of detail that takes hours to put together.

“What's this?” I hear the confusion in my own voice. When did he have time for this? And since when does he know anything about riding schools and horse racing? That's my thing, not his.

“After we talked a few weeks back.” He clears his throat. “You left some of your research papers here. I made copies. Hope that's alright.”

I let that sit for a second.

“I took what you'd already worked on,” he continues, “and built it into a proper business plan. Thought we could go through it, skip the bullshit and get straight to the real stuff. Logistics, money, actually making this thing happen.”

I don't say anything. Can't bring myself to. Because this is him trying. Really trying.

And I don't know what to do with that. Like at all. Something is happening in my chest that I haven't felt for Wade in years, and I don't have a name for it. I'm not sure I want one.

Wade’s watching me with that steady look of his, but my eyes are stuck on the screen. Jumping from detail to detail. I reach over and take the mouse straight out of his hand, scrolling. Seventeen pages. This is insanely impressive.

I can feel Wade beside me, body all tense as he waits for me to say something.

“What you think?” He gives in first.

“Great start.” I glance at him, letting a smile slip. “Who knew you had it in you.”

All at once his body relaxes, then he nudges me slightly with his shoulder, almost playfully… As if things couldn’t get weirder.

“Oi, watch yourself, boy. I've been running this ranch just fine for years.” He laughs again, and it sounds genuine.

“Sure.” I raise my eyebrows with a smirk. “Only took a city girl coming in to sort out how you run your own stocks.”

He huffs. “I'll give you that one.” There’s a brief pause, one that almost wouldn’t have been noticeable if I wasn’t so hypervigilant about this whole situation. “Maybe I’ve been too stuck in the way things have always been. Haven't thought much about what we could be.”

We? As in a father and son ranch?

“It's good,” I say, turning back to the screen. “There's stuff I'd want to tweak, some bits that need more research. And if we're going for competition horses, we need to think about bringing in a proper trainer.”

He nods, lets me keep reading. I can't stop smiling. This could actually put Meadow Bell on the map.

“Well, son.” There it is again. “This was only ever a start. Thought we could build on it together.”

“Got time now?”

He checks the corner of the screen. “Let me get one of the boys to head into town and pick up the supply delivery, and then I'm all yours.”

I nod. He grabs his phone and heads to the corner. I slide into his chair, pull up to the desk, start marking up sections.

When he comes back, he pulls up beside me. Fully present. Fully in this.

It feels good. And right now, that's all I need it to be.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Colt

A soft knock on the door interrupts our flow. We’ve been at this for over an hour, and it felt like nothing. Almost easy. Wade and I have been talking through projections, arguing about budgets—he is a go big or go home person, where I am a play it safe kinda guy—going back and forth on the idea of breeding competition horses and training the riders. It’s felt like the most natural thing in the world for us. Like we’ve always done this.

Yet, the reality is that this is the longest time we have been in a room alone together.

A second knock echoes, and we both say “come in” in unison. Though Wade’s deep projected voice smothers mine with ease.