19. Gabe

NINETEEN

Gabe

It felt like—maybe—things were finally going to be okay.

Clay was putting the final touches on the barn; Kat was outside meeting up with Jake O'Hara's ranch hands to get the horses settled back in, watching their trucks and trailers come up the driveway.

Meanwhile, I was putting security cameras all over Kat's property.

Yeah…"okay" is a relative term.

"Hey Kat," I called out, thumbing the last screw into the camera mount on the porch by the front door. "All set. This place is Fort Knox now."

She turned—and I tried not to let her smile knock me off my feet. She was excited about getting her horses back. "Thanks, Gabe. After what happened, I can't take any chances."

"Understood," I replied, hopping down from the ladder as the O'Hara hands parked in front of the house.

Kat strode towards the trailer, her steps quick with anticipation. The doors swung open and Sundance, her chestnut mare, whinnied softly. Kat reached up, gently stroking the horse's muzzle, a tender reunion unfolding before my eyes.

"Hey, girl," she whispered, lacing her fingers through Sundance's mane. "Did you miss me?"

A shadow of movement caught my eye, and I noticed Shadow, Ben's black gelding, shifting restlessly at the back of the trailer. He'd always been a skittish one, even more so since the incident. But today, he seemed on edge, his muscles tensing like coiled springs.

"Easy there, big guy," I said, slowly approaching. I held out my hand, letting him get a good sniff. To my surprise, Shadow nuzzled his nose against my palm, the tension melting away from his frame.

"Looks like he's taken a shine to you," Kat observed.

"Guess he knows I'm the one who's keeping his home safe," I joked, scratching behind Shadow's ears. Something about the way Kat looked at me then made my heart kick up a notch. There was gratitude, sure, but something else too—something I wasn't quite ready to name.

"Let's get these beauties settled in," she said, her tone all business again. "And let's hope we won't be needing that security system of yours anytime soon."

"Hope's good," I agreed, leading Shadow down the ramp. "But being prepared is better."

We started bringing the horses over to the shiny new barn one by one, about fifteen of them all-in-all. Clay and Kat's cousin Owen met us halfway, going to get horses of their own. It turned into a steady rhythm, the four of us clicking our tongues and enticing the horses with carrots and apples to get them into their new stalls.

"Shadow's in," I called out, securing the stall gate behind the gelding. "How are we doing over here?"

"Last one's Sundance," Kat replied, patting the golden horse's neck as she led her into the stall next to Shadow's. "There you go, girl. Home sweet home."

"Looks good," Clay said, eyeing the barn like it was his own child. Pride was etched in every line of his face—and rightfully so. Two weeks of sweat and sawdust had transformed the charred ruins into something magnificent.

"Livy's gonna be thrilled to have the horses back," I said.

"Yeah—if I ever let her come home," Kat muttered. "Not sure I trust this place yet. Wanted her away from all this until we're sure it's safe."

"Can't argue with that," I agreed.

Once the horses were settled, we all sat down around the old kitchen table at the Martin house, Kat washing her hands at the sink. She went over to the fridge and peered inside, a lock of hair falling into her eyes.

"Beer?" Kat offered.

We all nodded. It had been a long two weeks. A couple minutes later, she returned with four cold ones.

"Thanks," Owen grunted, accepting his with a nod before taking a long pull.

"Nothing beats a cold beer after a day's work," Clay sighed contentedly, tipping the bottle to his lips.

"Here's to a job well done," Kat raised her bottle, and we chimed in, a small chorus of clinks resonating through the kitchen.

"Y'know," Clay started, wiping a drop of beer from his beard, "we've been busting our asses for nearly two weeks straight. We deserve a night off. How about the Silver Spur tonight? My treat."

Owen set his now-empty bottle on the table, the glass making a solid thunk. "Actually, I can't swing it tonight," he said, pushing his chair back with the scrape of wood on wood.

"Got yourself a hot date or something?" Kat teased.

"Something like that," Owen replied. "Y'all have fun."

"You know we will!" she called after him as he headed for the door, but Owen just raised a hand in a half-wave, not looking back.

With Owen gone, I turned to Kat. "What about you, Kat? You in?"

She chewed her bottom lip, a frown creasing her brow. "I don't know, Gabe," she hesitated. "After everything, it feels strange leaving the ranch."

"Kat, the security system is all set," I reassured her.

"Plus, Sheriff said he'd have patrols pass by periodically," Clay added. "Place will be safe as houses."

She looked between us, the indecision clear in her eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Alright, let's do it. But if anything happens?—"

"Nothing's going to happen," I cut in, certain. "We've got it covered."

"Okay," she finally agreed with a sigh, standing up and collecting the empty bottles. "The Spur it is."

Time slipped by like the sun behind the mountains, giving way to a twilight that turned the ranch into a dusky silhouette. Clay had already taken off, saying he'd catch us at the Spur.

"Kat?" I called out, my boots thumping on the wood floors. "You about ready to?—"

Her bedroom door creaked open, and there she stood.

Damn.

My mouth went dry. She had on these skinny jeans that hugged her legs, showing off every curve and muscle like they were tailor-made for her. Those cowboy boots of hers, the ones that looked like they'd danced through their fair share of trouble, poked out from under the denim. And the shirt…hell, it was a low-cut number that made it hard not to stare. Her arms had healed up nicely, and everything else…

…well, perfect would have been an understatement.

"Close your mouth, Gabe," Kat smirked, but her eyes flitted away.

"Sorry." I cleared my throat. "You just…you look great."

"Thanks," she said, brushing a strand of blonde hair off her face, soft waves framing her shoulders.

I wondered if she liked her hair pulled.

Jesus, Gabe…

"Shall we?" I asked, motioning towards my truck parked out front.

"Yeah, let's hit the road," she replied with a grin.

The Silver Spur was a beacon of noise and neon in the otherwise quiet night, live music filtering through the open windows. I parked, and we made our way through a sea of trucks gleaming under the lights.

"Looks like the whole town's here tonight," Kat said.

"Friday night at the Spur. Where else would they be?"

We pushed through the door into a wall of sound—country tunes battling it out with the chatter of a packed house. Scanning the crowd, I caught sight of Clay raising his beer in salute from the bar. Jake "the Snake" O'Hara, the owner, leaned next to him, their heads close in conversation.

"Look who decided to grace us with their presence." Clay's voice cut through the din as we approached.

"Wouldn't miss it," I replied as we sidled up to the bar. "Especially since, if I recall, drinks are on you."

Clay snorted and ordered a round for us, shaking his head.

"Got the horses settled in?" Jake asked, nodding towards Kat as he handed over a couple of frosty bottles.

"Yep, finally back home," Kat said, taking a swig. "Thanks for looking after them."

"Anytime, Kat. How's the barn lookin'?"

"Better than before," I chimed in. "All set up and secure—thanks to Clay here."

"Good to hear," Jake replied, his face growing more serious. "Sheriff Callahan's been poking around town. Asking questions about the shooting, the break-in at your place. He's even got the Bureau office out in Billings involved."

"Did they find anything?" Kat leaned in. "I haven't heard yet."

"Nothing on ballistics. But there's talk of a killer on the loose," he said. "And Callahan's started asking about Ben's ex. Nia, was it? Seen her lurking around these parts."

Kat's hand tightened around her bottle, her knuckles going white. "Nia's been here?"

"Sure has. Even overheard her talking shit about your ranch." Jake's expression was grim. "Had to set her straight on that one."

I could see the storm clouds gathering in Kat's eyes. I reached over, my hand finding her knee under the bar, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was instinct, wanting to ground her, to remind her she wasn't alone in this.

Her gaze snapped to mine, all wildfire and brimstone. For a second, I saw vulnerability there before she bit down on her lip, hard enough to leave a mark. My eyes couldn't help but follow the movement, lingering on that full lower lip…then flickering to the pink tip of her tongue as it darted out, soothing the spot.

"Hey," I said softly. "Let's dance."

She looked at me, hesitation warring with the desire to forget, even if only for a song or two.

"Are you sure?"

"Damn sure. We're here to take a break from all that crap, not to dig ourselves deeper into it." My thumb brushed against her denim-clad leg, a simple touch meant to reassure.

She smiled, soft and subtle. "Okay."

I stood and offered my hand, leading her out to the dance floor. The band was good tonight, playing a mix of country hits and old classics that had the crowd moving and singing along. We found our rhythm easily, two bodies swaying in time with the music.

The drinks kept coming, and I could tell Kat was letting loose, a flush coloring her cheeks as she got tipsy. She laughed more, loud over the din of the crowd—a sound that did something funny to my chest.

When a slow song came on, she moved closer, her body fitting against mine like she was made for this—made for me. Her head rested just below my chin, and I couldn't help but breathe her in, the scent of her shampoo mixing with the smoky air of the Spur. My arms tightened around her, and it took all my willpower not to pull her even closer, to keep it decent when all I wanted was to tangle my fingers in her hair and kiss her senseless.

But I could tell she was tipsy…and I wasn't that guy.

So as the song ended and I pulled her up from a dip, I asked, "Need some water?"

She blushed…then nodded. "I'm drunk, aren't I?"

I smirked. "Just a little—let me grab that for you."

I reluctantly peeled myself away and headed toward the bar, my skin cooling without her there. Clay was watching us with a sly smile, chuckling when I got close. "Getting hot and heavy out there, huh?"

I went to the water cooler and grabbed a plastic cup, filling it up. Condensation gathered on the plastic, dripping over my knuckles.

"Maybe," I admitted, cracking a smile. "Might call it an early night."

"Looks like you're not the only one interested though," he said, nodding toward the dance floor. "Some guy is talking to your woman."

I glanced over, expecting to see Kat brushing off some harmless flirtation. Instead, there was this guy leaning in too close for comfort, his hand resting a bit too low on her back.

My jaw tightened.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, not from this distance, but I could tell it wasn't friendly. Kat gave him a polite smile, then the smile dropped. His hand didn't leave her back, though, sliding toward her ass?—

"Back off!" she said, loud enough now that we could all hear it.

A few heads turned, and I saw her slap his hand away—hard. That should've been his cue to leave.

It wasn't.

The dance floor seemed to pause for a beat before people shuffled aside, giving them space as if they were watching some twisted spectacle unfold. Maybe they just hadn't had time to react yet…maybe they were cowards. But all of that ceased to matter when I saw him grab her wrist.

And something inside me snapped.

The plastic cup in my hand crumpled like it was nothing. Water spilled over my fingers, splashing onto the dusty wooden floor.

"Excuse me," I muttered to Clay. I think he tried to stop me, but there was no fucking stopping me now. I'd been here before…knew the path forward.

I'd almost beaten a man to death at the Silver Spur a long, long time ago.

And tonight, maybe I would do it again.

Without another word, I pushed off the barstool and strode across the dance floor. People parted for me; they always did. I was big, I worked hard, and right then, every inch of me radiated "stay back."

All I could see was that guy's hand on Kat, and all I could think about was peeling his fingers away, one by one, if I had to. No one got to scare her, to make her feel unsafe.

Not while I was around.

Not ever.