I approached with my usual cocky stride, eyeing the men with obvious distaste. I took Lemon's hand, pulling her close, eyes locked on hers and my expression utterly serious. "I thought we were meeting inside," I reproached, rubbing small circles on her back. I could see her eyes narrow momentarily, eyeing me down before turning her head towards them.

"Sorry, I forgot," Lemon stammered as she tried to play along. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, like she was still caught between flight and fight. That made two of us. The thought of her coming out here tonight for Rem gnawed at me, a frustration that settled deep in my gut. Rem had gotten himself twisted up in everything that was wrong with the rodeo circuit—the women, the quick cash, the easy way out. Somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten the code we used to live by, leaving a woman like Lemon alone, vulnerable, in a place like this. It just wasn't acceptable. And he should know that.

"Let's head back in, then," I said, keeping my voice light, even though my eyes told a different story. I could feel the tension in her body, and I didn't miss the looks those guys were giving us. They weren't ready to back down, and it pissed me off more than I cared to admit. I stood my ground, locking eyes with each of them, daring them to make a move now that it wasn't three against one.

The ringleader—if you could call him that—eyed me up, trying to decide if I was worth the trouble. I straightened up, letting my stance do the talking. I wasn't the biggest guy in the room, but years of riding bulls had built me solid, and I knew how to handle myself. Lemon caught my eye, giving me a slight nod, and I could feel her trying to shake off the tension.

"Yeah, let's," she said, her voice steadier now. "You still owe me that dance." The thought of dancing—something I hadn't done in God knows how long—brought a half-smile to my face, as absurd as it was. But if it got us out of this situation, I'd play along.

I dropped her hand, letting my arm drape casually around her waist, pulling her close as I turned us back toward the bar. "Gentlemen," I said, my tone colder than the night air. I didn't look back as I led Lemon away, my grip on her firm but reassuring.

As soon as we were inside, I hissed in her ear, "What were you thinking letting those guys follow you?"

"I didn't see them," she answered defensively, pushing my arm away. "But I can take care of myself."

I growled with irritation. "You may be strong Odell, but there were three of them."

"Did you follow me?" Lemon asked, turning to see me. That's what she was worried about? Me following her?

"Look," I said, my voice low and steady, "I don't know what you're caught up in with Rem, and frankly, I don't care. But you need to watch yourself out there. Those guys weren't messing around and next time I might not be around to step in."

Lemon's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might snap back at me. But she didn't. She just nodded, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of defiance and something else—something like gratitude, though she'd probably never admit it.

"Thanks," she muttered, almost too quiet to hear. Then, as if catching herself, she straightened up, that mask of confidence sliding back into place. "But I don't need a babysitter, Colt."

"Never said you did," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "Just saying you don't have to be one for Rem either."

The tension in the air was thick. I glanced over at Tessa, who was watching the whole thing from the corner with a mix of amusement and concern. "We should stay here for a while. Just until they leave."

Lemon hesitated, clearly not thrilled about the idea of sticking around, but she followed me through the crowded bar anyway. I led her over to a table where Tessa was already sitting, her sharp eyes taking in everything. When I pulled out a chair for Lemon, she paused, glancing between me and the seat like she was trying to figure out my angle.

I gave her one of those polite, Southern smiles she'd seemed so keen on earlier. She rolled her eyes but finally sat down, though it was clear she wasn't exactly comfortable with the setup.

"Is she why you dashed off so abruptly, Colt?" Tessa questioned, eying Lemon. "I haven't seen you running after a woman in a very long time."

I gestured to Lemon. "Lemon, this is Tessa. Tessa Bethoud, Lemon Odell." I dropped into the chair next to her and reached for the beer Tessa had ordered while I was off playing hero. Tessa's eyebrow shot up as I took a sip, her eyes narrowing at me like she could see right through the bullshit. "Odell, huh?" she muttered, like she was chewing over the name.

Lemon slid into the seat, but she was still watching me out of the corner of her eye, like she was bracing herself for whatever might come next. She was easy to read in moments like this, I decided. Gone was the girl I had seen at the rodeo, the scouring calloused figure watching over the competition. Now she seemed shaken.

I leaned back in my chair, my attention drifting casually over the bar's patrons but always returning to Lemon. She finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "Hi," she murmured, arranging her hands on the table, one atop the other. The hands were small, dotted with freckles like splatters on an Appaloosa. They were rough—marked by physical labor, not just from the rodeo but from real work, the kind that leaves its trace deep in the skin.

She clasped her hands on the table, one over the other. I couldn't help but notice the details; they were small, dusted with freckles that reminded me of the scattered patterns on an Appaloosa. But it wasn't just their appearance that caught my attention—it was the calluses and the signs of hard labor that told me she was no stranger to tough work. I knew something about that life, the one her father Tex had chosen after his rodeo days. It was supposed to be simpler—land, family, a few horses—something solid you could put your hands on and say, 'This is mine.'

But the idea of the transition from rodeo cowboy, to rancher is easier said than done. Especially when you know you won't find that rush again. Not the same as bull riding. It never is. I had done the same once, it's easier to when you find a woman you believe is worth living that life for. And she had been just that.

Alice. My Alice. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel her presence, her strawberry blonde hair slipping through my fingers like silk and cascading down her back in a river of gold. I could hear her laughter, infectious and free.

But it didn't always work out, in fact, it rarely does.

The fact that this small woman in front of me has hands as rough and calloused as those tells me one thing, she's working those lands herself.

A wild little thing she must be.

I took a slow draw from my Shiner, the familiar bitter tang grounding me back in the moment. Catching Tessa's gaze on me, I saw that familiar gleam of mischief, the one that said she was enjoying the show a bit too much. Her eyes darted between Lemon and me, curiosity piqued. "So how do you two know each other?" she prodded, her voice laced with amusement.

Lemon hesitated, her mouth opening then closing, clearly unsure of how much to reveal. She glanced my way, searching for some cue. I offered her a reassuring half-smile, the kind that was supposed to say 'it's alright,' but she just rolled her eyes, not buying the easy out. I held her gaze steadily, a silent challenge hanging between us. This wasn't a game I was willing to lose, not here, not with Tessa watching like we were the night's entertainment.

Finally, Lemon spoke up, her voice a touch uncertain but gaining strength as she went on. "We just met today, actually. Over at the rodeo," she said, her tone suggesting there was more to the story than just a casual encounter.

Tessa's eyebrow arched, intrigued by the implication. "Today, huh? And already running to the rescue," she remarked, looking at me with a mix of skepticism and something akin to pride.

I leaned back in my chair, the metal legs scraping slightly against the wooden floor. The noise was sharp in the buzz of conversation. "Wasn't much of a rescue," I clarified, my voice low but firm. . "Lemon's one of the best barrel racers around. Couldn't just watch her get cornered like that."

Tessa nodded, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and respect. "Ah, now I recognize you, Lemon. My youngest was raving about your demonstration this morning. Thinks he might want to take over the ranch someday. Gods know none of my other boys have any interest in it," she chuckled.

I smirked. "Yes, let's see. Cleos workin to be in a heavy metal band and Mack's fixin' to bronc ride or join the Army. Those two took after Emmon."

Tessa frowned. "Mack wants to join the coast guard, Colt. Not all of us can make a million dollars for eight seconds' work," she said tartly.

"It takes a hell of a lot longer than eight seconds to build a life in that arena," I replied, feeling a mix of irritation and pride swell within me as I stretched my legs out under the table. My knee pressed up against Lemon's, but I don't move it. Waiting a moment I realize neither will she.

"So, Lemon, are all of the riders as obnoxious as our dear Colt?" Tessa asked, her eyes sparkled and her mouth formed the same smirk I was so fond of.

"That's it, I'm calling Emmon," I huffed, standing abruptly and stalking away from the table.

I glanced at the table as I left, Lemon had shrugged her shoulders, "They're not so bad."

I pressed the call button, and Rem picked up almost before the first ring finished. "Hey, what's up!" His voice came through loud and clear, too cheerful by half, with the unmistakable backdrop of laughter and music—sounds of a party. My jaw clenched. He had left Lemon at this bar to go to a bonfire?

"Just cleaning up some messes," I strung out thinly, silence filling the other end of the phone. I could hear him shuffling, the howls getting quieter.

"Lemon." Rem said with a sigh, and I frowned. Rem was a good four years younger than me, and he could easily be defined as a young buck at heart. Not saying that I was much better at his age, but I sure as hell had my limits and it was about time he grew a pair and learned some for himself.

"I swear I was gonna see her tonight, I just—" he started, his words rushed and defensive.

I cut him off sharply. "Save it, Rem." I wasn't in the mood for excuses or half-baked apologies."We all play it fast and loose sometimes, I get that. But not with Lemon. Not with an Odell." The last name carried weight, a reminder of a legacy that deserved more respect than a forgotten meet-up.

Internally, I shook my head, thankful that Tex wasn't alive to witness the situation Lemon had found herself in. He would've torn into Rem like a raging bull.

"Just don't let it happen again," I concluded, my tone final. I ended the call before he could respond, my finger jabbing the screen harder than necessary. I pocketed the phone with a sigh, the weight of the conversation settling on my shoulders.

"That's Colt all right. Chivalrous one moment, a right bastard the next." I heard Tessa say with a grin as soon as I neared the table.

"It should be safe to go now."

"Lemon, we'll walk you back to the hotel. Colt and I are staying there too."As Tessa stood, she sighed. "I'm sure Lyonnel has ordered pay-per-view porn by now. Teenagers."

Lemon laughed despite herself. I weighed in the back, watching as the two girls linked arms and pushed their way through the crowds. A force to be reckoned with. We walked together, chatting amiably. I walked a few paces behind, listening into the conversation and taking in the glittering lights around us. They talked about the rodeos, and their land, and Tessa brought up Emmett and the kids. Family. Home.

The word always tore at my thoughts a bit.

When we reached the hotel lobby, Tessa went ahead, leaving Lemon alone with me. I cleared my throat. "Well, I told Rem off. He won't ditch you again for awhile."

"I would have been fine. You shouldn't have done that," Lemon protested.

I rocked back on my heels. "Fine? If you call almost being gang-raped in a parking lot fine, then sure. You were fine." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

Lemon's eyes bore into mine. My first instinct was to walk away- no to run away, and I felt a little too much like those wild mustangs people are all too keen on capturing. But it had been a long day, a longer night, and there was something about the certainty in her bright green eyes that irritated me. I took a step toward her instead, so close I could have kissed her, letting Lemon Odell take in every inch of my height as I looked down into her face.

"I can handle myself. Those weren't the first guys looking for a challenge," she said firmly, not backing down. I frowned at the sight, resisting the urge to move the stray lock of hair behind her ear.

When I didn't say anything she turned and strode toward the elevators, leaving me watching her from the lobby.

"Next time, Lemon, run away from danger instead of embracing it," I called after her. "I may not be around to rescue you, stubborn fool."