“To Lettie Cooper,” we said in unison.

And then we sipped.

***

“How many individual pieces of hay do you think are in a hay bale?” Brandy asked, her words slightly slurred. 

Oakley was driving us back to the ranch, where we planned to continue our boozy brunch in the comfort of home. We felt bad that Oakley couldn’t indulge as much as she wanted to, but Lennon would pick her up later once he was off work, so she had nothing to worry about once we got to the ranch.

“A fuck ton,” Lettie tossed back with a giggle.

“Like how many fuck tons?” Brandy questioned.

I’d stopped after four mimosas, which was probably too many, but Lettie and Brandy both had five. Brandy, I came to learn, was a lightweight, but that clearly did not stop her from indulging.

“Hmm, maybe a thousand?” Lettie replied.

“We could count one,” I said, the effects of the champagne making it hard to resist joining in on their debate.

“As much fun as that sounds, I do not feel like counting hay while I’m planning to get buzzed,” Oakley said. “The other day, I had to count an entire bag of dog treats because one of the customers didn’t believe that there were seventy-two in each bag.”

“You should’ve made them count it,” Brandy said.

Oakley glanced in the rearview mirror at Brandy in the backseat. “I wish I would have.”

She turned onto the dirt driveway that led to the Bronsons’ ranch as Brandy and Lettie went on about different shades of pink for the dresses, somehow getting on the topic of wanting to tie-dye them. Thankfully, we weren’t making any final decisions while drunk, because tie-dye did not seem like Lettie’s style of choice.

Oakley pulled to a stop and shut off the car. “Uh oh.”

“What ‘uh oh’?” Brandy asked, looking out the window.

Lettie leaned over Brandy to get a better look outside. “That ‘uh oh,’” Lettie answered, pointing in the direction of the barn.

I looked out Oakley’s driver window and swore I felt my heart sink. But just as quick as it sank, it started beating fast. Too fast.

I didn’t hesitate, opening the passenger door to swing out of the car. Coming around the hood, I beelined it for Callan where he was standing with his back to the barn. Where a woman was standing too close to him, her chest practically touching his.

Any buzz I had fueled my confidence as I approached the two of them. Callan wasn’t flirting with her, and he definitely wasn’t entertaining whatever it was that she was doing. He looked uncomfortable, shrinking in on himself. 

If he didn’t have the guts to tell her off, then I would.

“Excuse me,” I said, pasting on a sweet tone right along with my clearly fake smile. “Hi.” I smoothly squeezed in between them, forcing the woman to take a step back. 

Her mouth popped open as irritation coated her features. “We were in the middle of a conversation,” she squeaked out, disbelief lacing her tone.

Conversation, my ass.

“You’re standing a little too close to my boyfriend. Actually.” I paused, lifting a finger. “Way too close. And you need to leave.”

“Boyfriend?” she exclaimed, her voice now rising in pitch. 

“Mhmm, so maybe stop harassing him, take the message, and leave him the fuck alone.”

Callan’s chest was to my back in an instant, both hands on my shoulders. 

The woman blinked in shock. “He’s my son's instructor.”

“Do you corner all your son’s teachers like this?” I asked, cocking a brow as I set my hands on my hips.

Callan’s fingers dug into my shoulders, gently holding me back like I’d swing at her.

I would.

“This is ridiculous,” the woman said, taking another step back. “I’m never bringing my son back here.”

I smiled. “Oh, your son is welcome. But you’re not.”

“What?” she squeaked, as if it was crazy that her son was innocent in this. Like she did no wrong.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” I asked, my tone overly sweet. “Get the fuck off this ranch, and if your son wants to keep coming for lessons, have his father bring him.” I gestured to the ring on her finger. “I’m sure he’d love to know the reason why his son might have to quit riding lessons.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her cheeks red with rage. She turned on her heel, almost losing her balance in the dirt, then yelled for her son. “Christopher!”

“Coming, Mom!” Christopher shouted back, then emerged from the barn shortly after. 

They got in their car and peeled out of the drive, and then my eyes landed on the other car, where Oakley, Lettie, and Brandy all had their faces pressed to the glass. They all tossed me a thumbs up and a huge smile.

Callan turned me around, but before I could apologize, he crashed into me with a kiss. His touch was hungry, his lips devouring. Every buzz from the champagne turned into the buzz of him lighting my skin like a match. 

“Say it again,” he mumbled into my lips as he kept kissing me just as deep.

“Say what?” I questioned, wishing he could take me right here.

“That I’m your boyfriend.”

I pulled back, my lips parted. 

I guess I had said that.

“Is that— Is that okay?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I stepped over the line by saying that, but all I knew in the moment I said it was that I wanted her to feel shitty for making Callan feel uncomfortable. Then, when I saw the ring on her finger, I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. She deserved the worst for cornering him as if she didn’t have a man of her own at home.

“Baby, being your boyfriend is all I want. It’s more than okay.”

My head swam with the effects of him and the booze, and I couldn’t help my smile as I said, “You’re my boyfriend.”

He smiled right back. “Damn right I am.”

His lips met mine again, and I knew behind me that the girls were watching, but I didn’t care. I wanted the whole world to know that Callan was mine and I was his.