3. Brady

3

brADY

T he neon sign of The Rusty Fork flickers, casting an uneven glow on the sidewalk. I stand just outside, the smell of fried food and beer wafting through the door every time it swings open. My stomach knots, not from the smell, but from what I know is waiting inside.

A surprise birthday party. Logan might have thought he was being slick when he invited me to dinner, but subtlety ain’t exactly his strong suit.

Turning fifty. Christ. When did that happen?

I take a deep breath, the cool night air filling my lungs. My hand hesitates on the door handle, rough beneath my palm. I square my shoulders, steeling myself. I’m not one for big celebrations, especially when I’m the center of attention. But Logan and Sierra mean well. I know they’re just trying to make this milestone memorable.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” I mutter to myself. “Try to make the most of it.”

The second I push through the door, a chorus of “Surprise!” greets me. Even though I’m prepared for it, it’s still overwhelming.

Despite feeling a bit flustered, I keep a relaxed smile plastered on my face as folks surround me—Logan, Sierra, and a bunch of locals I’ve known for years. I nod, shake a few hands. Friendly palms meet mine, accompanied by hearty slaps on the back.

“Happy birthday, Brady!”

“You’re looking good for fifty, man!”

And then I see her, and everything else fades away.

Claire is standing near the back of the room. The sight of her nearly knocks the wind out of me. It shouldn’t be surprising that she was invited, and yet for whatever reason, I didn’t expect to see her here tonight.

She looks...different. Better than I’m prepared for.

The outfit she’s wearing accentuates her curves in a way that sends a rush of torrid heat through me. Her dress is a deep green that brings out the gold in her hair, a far cry from the dusty jeans and overalls I’m used to seeing her in. But it’s still her, with that familiar braid hanging over one shoulder.

The longer my gaze lingers on her, the less stable the ground feels beneath me.

The other guests pull my attention back, continuing to offer cheerful birthday wishes. I nod and smile, but my chest is growing tight. I know it’s only a matter of time before Claire makes her way over. And I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to act when she does.

When her turn finally comes, Claire gives me a warm, easy smile that sends my pulse racing.

“Happy Birthday, old man,” she says teasingly, her eyes twinkling with mirth. And then, before I can react, she leans in and wraps her arms around me.

The hug catches me completely off guard. We’ve never touched like this before, and the feel of her body pressed against mine is a shock to the system. Jesus, she feels good. For a split second, I let myself take it in—the plump softness of her, the way she fits against me, the fresh scent of her shampoo.

But then it’s too much, too real. I force myself to pull back, scrambling to regain my composure.

“Thanks,” I manage to croak out, my voice rough.

To cover my reaction, I turn to an old buddy of mine who owns the hardware store here in town. “How’s business been lately, Tom?”

But Tom is far more interested in introducing himself to Claire, pulling her into the conversation. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand to her. “I’m Tom. You must be the ranch hand Brady hired last year. How’s it been working out?”

Now I’m stuck, standing here with Claire, my pulse pounding in my ears like a stampede of wild horses.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful,” Claire says, full of enthusiasm. “I really appreciate how Brady doesn’t micromanage, and gives me space to do things my way.” She glances at me, a smile playing on her lips. “Even if he did grumble about my flower bed at first.”

“A flower bed?” Tom raises an eyebrow at me before turning back to Claire. “Sounds like you’re making quite an impact out there.”

“It’s just for fun,” Claire says. “It’s hardly necessary, but I couldn’t resist adding a little something extra to such a special place. What Brady’s done for those horses is amazing. I feel lucky to be a part of it.”

Heat creeps up my neck as I realize my own ignorance. All this time, I’d assumed it was just a job to her, but the passion in her voice is unmistakable. She really cares about the ranch— my ranch. I’ve been so busy keeping her at arm’s length that I completely missed her genuine connection to the place.

Logan’s voice cuts through the moment. “All right, everyone! Let’s all take a seat for dinner.”

I move to the table, grateful for the distraction. The long table is decorated with vases of flowers—flowers that I recognize were cut from the bed Claire insisted on planting.

As I look at them, I have to admit they do add something nice to the place.

Throughout dinner, my attention keeps drifting to Claire. She’s at the far end of the table, laughing and chatting with the other guests. The sound of her laughter carries over the buzz of conversation, and for reasons I don’t want to examine too closely, I wish I was the one sitting beside her, talking to her.

I feel a pang of guilt, realizing that after all this time working together, I know so little about her. I’ve longed to get to know her better. But the risk of opening that door has always held me back.

At one point, my gaze strays again, and I catch sight of Claire holding one of Logan and Sierra’s babies, cooing softly. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little thing,” she says, her voice soft and warm and maternal.

The sight hits me hard. Way too fucking hard. And then my mind does something dangerous—takes a sharp turn down a path I never saw coming. Suddenly I’m imagining Claire pregnant with our child, her belly swollen beneath one of my old work shirts, that same tender expression on her face.

The fantasy blazes bright and clear in my mind: Claire as more than just my employee, more than even a lover. Claire as my wife, the mother of my future children, the woman who will grow old with me as we run the ranch together.

The intensity of my fantasy stuns me. It’s one thing to be attracted to her, to fight the urge to touch her, kiss her. But this? This deep ache for a future together, for a family? It’s too much. Too dangerous. She’s young, beautiful, with her whole life ahead of her.

What the hell am I doing, dreaming about domesticity with a woman who deserves better than a gruff old rancher with too much baggage?

I force myself to look away, my heart hammering against my ribs. This has gone too far. These feelings, this longing—it needs to stop. Now.

As dinner winds down, Logan and Sierra start bringing out presents. I shake my head, insisting it’s too much, but they won’t hear it.

“Come on, Dad,” Logan says, pushing a wrapped package toward me. “Let us spoil you for once.”

I open each gift with polite gratitude, even as the sentiment makes me uncomfortable. Eventually, there’s just one present left. When I open it, I find a beautifully crafted leather journal inside. The gift takes me by surprise. Writing isn’t exactly my thing, but it’s a beautiful object, and I can’t deny the craftsmanship.

From the far end of the table, Claire clears her throat and speaks up. “That one’s from me,” she says with a smile. “I thought you might use it to jot down things about the ranch or maybe sketch a little—just something for yourself.”

Her thoughtfulness catches me off guard. It’s a simple gift, but it feels extra personal, like she sees something in me that others don’t.

Before I can fully process the moment, the server appears with a candle-laden cake, and the room erupts into singing Happy Birthday .

Later, as I’m driving away from the restaurant, I spot Claire walking down the sidewalk on her own. Eagle Falls isn’t exactly dangerous at night, but my protective instinct kicks in anyway. Before I can think too much about it, I pull over, rolling down my window.

“Hey,” I call out. “Let me give you a ride home.”

She turns, surprise on her face. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble,” I say. “Come on, it’s late. Hop in.”

She smiles at me, then climbs into the passenger seat. The cab of the truck suddenly feels smaller and warmer with her in it. The scent of her shampoo shouldn’t be so alluring, yet I find myself taking a deeper breath, drawn in by its sweetness.

“That was a nice celebration, wasn’t it?” she says, clicking her seatbelt into place.

I make a low noise of affirmation.

She’s quiet for a moment, then asks curiously, “Do you have any favorite birthday memories from when you were a kid?”

I’m hesitant at first, but then I find myself sharing. “Once, when I was seven or eight, my dad took me fishing, just the two of us. Caught the biggest trout I’d ever seen. My dad convinced me it was a world record, and for a while, I actually thought it was.”

Claire laughs, the golden sound filling the space between us. “That’s sweet. For me, it was my tenth birthday. My grandmother baked me this ridiculous cake—three tiers covered in sprinkles. It was lopsided and the frosting was a mess, but it was the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Nice.”

Claire shifts, turning to face me a little more. “So, any big plans for the rest of the night? Wait, let me guess. You’re going to eat all that leftover birthday cake, aren’t you?”

“Nah, probably just turn in early. What about you?”

“Nothing too exciting. Just heading to my shift at the strip club.”

I nearly choke, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “What?”

Claire bursts into laughter, and I feel like an idiot for taking her seriously. Jesus Christ.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” she says. Then, after a pause, she adds, “I haven’t worked there in years .”

This time, I’m ready. A low laugh escapes my throat as I shake my head.

“What?” Claire says, giving me a serious look. “What’s so funny, Brady?”

But even she can’t hold her poker face for more than a few seconds.

When we reach her place, Claire gives me a warm goodnight. “Thanks for the ride, Brady. And happy birthday, again.”

I watch her disappear inside, the porch light casting a warm glow on her retreating figure. On the drive back to the ranch, my thoughts churn, endlessly replaying moments from the night—her smile, the hug she gave me at the restaurant, the way she looked holding the baby.

It’s the last thing I should be focusing on, but I can’t shake it.

When I arrive at the ranch and step inside my house, the place feels colder and emptier than usual. The silence is oppressive after the noise and warmth of the party. I change and get ready for bed, my movements mechanical, my mind elsewhere.

Alone in bed, I lay there with Claire still on my mind. It takes fucking forever to fall asleep, and when I do, it’s anything but peaceful. My dreams are hot and vivid, overflowing with images too obscene to name.

I wake with a start, sheets tangled around my legs, my heart pounding. The last dream lingers, fragments of it pulsing through my mind—Claire’s needful whispers, her slow and sensual touch, the heat of her body pressed against mine. I sit up, running a hand over my face, trying to shake off the residual heat of the dream.

But as I sit there in the dark, my breath audible, I know I’m in trouble.