Boom!

The sound of a rifle made Karis and the Ives family all jump in unison.

Boom, boom!

Aw crap, that sounded like two rifles. There was a distinctive sound when a bullet hit its mark. With a miss, it echoed, but there was a faint thunk when it hit. That was three thunks, and she would bet her boots she wouldn’t hear the cawing of the crows anymore.

“What was that?” Leonora asked, worry tainting her tone.

“Target practice,” Karis said. It wasn’t a total lie. She just didn’t mention the targets were asshole crow shifters. “The boys must be coming in.” She petted Norman’s fuzzy little nose one last time and shut the stall door after Leonora and Damien left.

Thomas was sitting on a bale of hay, checking his phone. “Penguins are up by one.”

“It’s his favorite hockey team,” Leonora whispered with an eyeroll.

When Colton sauntered into the hole where the door used to be on the barn, he looked like a tall glass of water on a hot summer day. His long legs pressed against his threadbare jeans. He wore scraped-up work boots and a green plaid shirt that was unbuttoned, exposing a white tank top underneath. The claw mark scars on his face made him look rugged and handsome, and his eyes right now were a mix of green and gold under his lowered cowboy hat.

“You’re staring,” Leonora whispered with a grin in her voice.

Karis clacked her mouth closed and wondered for the hundredth time how she got so damn lucky with him.

His eyes went right to her, and his smile was instant, but it didn’t lift the scarred side of his face, which told her one thing—something was wrong, and he was trying to hide it.

“Colt, here are your riders.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you,” he said, roughing up Damien’s hair and then trading a few shadow boxing punches with him. He shook Thomas’s hand and then Leonora’s, giving them easy greetings.

“Where’s Trigger?” Karis asked.

“Burying the crows,” he said simply. He squeezed the back of her arm, laid a kiss on her forehead and then her lips. “I missed you all day.”

“Awww!” Leonora exclaimed. “This is like one of those Wild West romance movies.”

“Oh geez, here she goes,” Thomas said through a smile. “Run for the hills, or she’ll drown you with her mushiness.”

Colt snorted. “Well, this one’s made for swimming in that mushiness. I found a sex novel about a pirate in her top drawer the other day. I read a chapter and felt like I needed chocolate and pink mittens.”

Karis shoved him in the arm. “Serves you right for snooping in my drawers! I’m gonna make you finish that book now. Get in touch with your feminine side.”

“Hell no, I had to go drink, like, four cheap beers, belch the alphabet, and chop some wood without my shirt on after that just to recover.”

Leonora was typing something on her phone. “Well, next time you chop wood without a shirt on, give a ho a heads up so I can video tape it and send it to this sexy cowboy site I found.”

“Mom, don’t say ‘ho,’” Damien muttered.

Leonora turned her phone around and showed them the glowing screen. There were shirtless men in cowboy hats, jeans, and boots, and the cowboys were throwing lassos.

“They ain’t even doin’ it right,” Colt grumbled. “They would never catch anything with those shitty loops. Ain’t even rollin’ their wrists.”

“Babe, I don’t think the women who look at this site care about that.”

“Well, what do they care about?” he asked, looking scandalized. “Lassos are important.”

“They’re probably counting abs,” Leonora said.

“Mother ffffudge…the Stars just scored,” Thomas gritted, staring at his phone.

“I’m offended at how objectified these men are,” Colt said, hooking his hands on his hips. Whoa, his arms looked really yummy all pressed against his flannel shirt like that.

“Look, there are eight abs on this one.” Leonora pointed to each ab on one of the models as she counted out loud. “Thomas, you need to wear a cowboy hat!”

“Woman, why do you think I agreed to this?” her husband muttered. “To get laid more.”

“La, la, la, la, laaaaaa,” Damien sang, plugging his ears. But then he looked at his mom, who was waggling her eyebrows at his dad, and with a defeated sigh, he groused, “I hate my life.”

“Damien wants to ride King Arthur,” Karis said. “But he wants to re-name him Frat Boy.”

Colt chuckled and gestured Damien to follow him toward the stall at the back. “Let’s do a brush-up lesson on how to take care of him while we’re out there. Hey,” Colt said, walking backward, his eyes on Karis. “I like you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, her cheeks catching fire again.

“You’re real pretty today.”

Slightly breathless thanks to the butterflies in her chest, she murmured, “Oh, stop it. We have guests.”

“I don’t mind!” Leonora said.

“Dammit, Stars are up by one now,” Thomas muttered, the screen of his phone glowing up at his face.

“Doesn’t matter how mushy you are,” Damien said, sliding the last stall open. “You can’t be worse than my parents.”

Colton gave Karis one pelvic thrust before he disappeared with Damien into Frat Boy’s stall.

Without a single doubt, this would be the least professional trail ride in existence.

But at least the crows weren’t cawing.