Firefly Night

CHAPTER 14

|LEMON ODELL|

"Tequila shot. Silver, please. Hell, make it two."

It had been a long day on the ranch, and I could feel every bit of it in my bones. Teaching Colt how to manage with his left hand had pushed me to the brink. My back ached, and the sting of sunburn on my face was a reminder that tomorrow wouldn't be any easier. The early mornings and long days were nothing new, but today had taken more out of me than I cared to admit.

The routine had its familiar rhythm—up before the sun, a quick shower, and usually out to the barn by six-fifteen. But today was different. I hadn't even been there for the morning feed; instead, I'd spent the better part of the morning fixing up the stall for the mustang we'd taken in. The new arrival had thrown everything off balance, adding another layer of work to an already overwhelming day.

By the time Colt rolled down the driveway in his old blue Chevy, I was already knee-deep in the chaos, trying to keep everything from spinning out of control. We had cattle to rotate and more work than either of us could handle, but we saddled up and got to it, pushing through the exhaustion that clung to us both.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the ranch settled into that familiar, comforting quiet. Normally, I would've found peace in it, but today, my mind was too tangled up in everything that had happened. And it was impossible to ignore the way my thoughts kept circling back to Colt. He was everywhere today—in the barn, in the fields, in my head. Sleep was supposed to be my escape, but even then Colt on my mind, leaving me more worn out than rested. Even he must've noticed it by now. God, this was getting old fast.

SLAM!

The bartender poured the tequila, setting two glasses in front of me with a slice of lime on the side. "There ya go, Lemon," she said, a small smile on her face.

I slid a bill her way, but she waved it off with a shake of her head. "Don't you dare. You look like you could use it."

"Linda, you're a lifesaver," I sighed, feeling the tension ease just a bit as the warmth of the tequila spread through me. She chuckled, her pale blue eyes twinkling as she moved down the bar. Linda was a petite woman in her mid-fifties, short grey hair framing a face lined with years of laughter and grit. Tough as nails, that one. She and her husband, Mick, had been running this bar together for nearly thirty years, ever since Mick bought it for her when they got engaged. They were something special, the kind of partnership you didn't see much anymore.

"I owe you a pack of steaks! Maybe two," I called after her. She waved a hand dismissively, already focused on another customer. I shook my head with a smile, picking up the saltshaker and setting up for the shot.

I licked the salt off my hand, tossed back the tequila, and bit into the lime, savoring the familiar burn as it warmed me from the inside out. Eyes closed, I let out a small moan, feeling the stress of the day melt away.

A low chuckle broke through my moment of bliss, and I opened my eyes, blinking away the warmth. I turned to find Colt Langmore sitting next to me, his cobalt eyes fixed on me with a mix of amusement and something else I couldn't quite place. He looked different here, under the bar's neon lights. The rough edges were still there—dark jeans, leather belt, boots that had seen better days—but something about him seemed softer, more approachable. Wow, the tequila must already be working.

My gaze dropped to the other shot glass in front of me, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must've looked. I downed the second shot, hoping it would steady me, biting into the lime and praying for composure.

"What happened to a beer?" Colt's voice was low, with that slow drawl that always made it sound like he had all the time in the world. I turned to face him, doing my best to keep my cool, and managed a small smile.