Page 47 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“Willy, when you were fourteen and crushing on your English teacher, you wore that exact look.”

Coffee heads for the wrong pipe.

Across from me, Grandma beams like she’s just won a prize at the county fair.

“That isn’t remotely the same situation.”

“You’re right.” She takes a sip of coffee. “Your knees made less noise back then.”

I point at her. “That was mean.”

“That was efficient. Mean would’ve taken longer.”

The irritating part is that she says it with complete sincerity.

Rain clouds are stacking themselves over the mountains outside the kitchen window. A fresh loaf cools on the counter, filling the room with the smell of warm bread.

Usually, sitting at Grandma’s table feels like a break from the rest of the world. Today it feels like I’ve been summoned for questioning by a cheerful dictator who keeps baked goods on hand to lower her prisoners’ defenses.

“You’re imagining things.”

“Willy.”

“Grandma.”

The exchange earns me the look. The one that says she’s about to wait me out and knows she’ll win.

I lean back in my chair, and that’s when I make my mistake. Because Arizona walks straight into my thoughts.

Her copper hair catches sunlight like it was invented specifically for the job. The guitar slung over her shoulder. The laugh that escapes before she thinks about whether she should hold it back.

The way she slides into a room full of strangers and somehow leaves with people acting like they’ve known her for years.

By the time I realize I’ve drifted off into my own head, Grandma’s grin has widened enough to be concerning.

“Oh, there she is.”

I close my eyes. “This feels illegal.”

“You made it easy.”

“You just reached into my brain and pulled out evidence.”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand. “I didn’t have to reach for anything. You stared off into the distance like a cowboy in one of those old romance movies.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

I point at her again. “You keep saying ‘absolutely’ like you’ve prepared opening statements.”

“That’s because the case is airtight.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it, which is unfortunate, because now she knows she’s winning.

There’s never much point arguing with Grandma once she’s decided she’s right. Eventually, I give up pretending this conversation is headed anywhere else and let out a breath.

“I met someone.”