Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

Sophie’s smile is wide and her eyes grow bright at the memory. “I delivered a colt at the ranch. He yelled at me and called me a bitch, and I hated him on sight and put him in his place. So your basic love at first sight story.”

All the girls smile a little.

Katelyn holds a hand up. “Mark and I were friends. Poor guy didn’t even know the meaning of the word. Literally.”

Shayanne pipes up, grinning. “Threw myself at Luke.”

I have no problem believing that. Shay is a see it, want it, get it sort.

Allyson adds, “Bruce and I were high school sweethearts. We broke up for a long time, but we got back to where we were supposed to be all along.” That sounds like a story if I’ve ever heard one.

“Fuck buddies who caught feelings,” Rix says on a sigh.

Last but not least, I say, “Saw each other from across a crowded room.”

Rix doesn’t leave it at that, though. “But you made him work hard for it. Good job, Willow.” She holds up a hand, and I high-five her, feeling like part of the group.

Actually, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt accepted like this. A whole group of women who, from the outside looking in, don’t seem to have all that much in common. Loud and brash, soft-spoken and sweet, sharp and witty—all so many different facets, but somehow, they’ve blended together into a family. I’m barely on the edge of their group, but their warm welcome is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I was always the quiet, shy weirdo on the outskirts of what was going on, the one nobody noticed, the oddball. But these women don’t care that I’m weird, or quiet, or sometimes still a bit awkward.

Come to think of it, nobody in Great Falls has made me feel like an outsider. I’m sure some of that has to do with my relation to Unc, but even beyond that, they wave when I drive down Main Street, they greet me by name at the coffee shop, and they comment on the photos on my blog. I think the largest demographic of my new followers is the people of Great Falls. They’ve accepted me as one of their own.

My eyes burn hot with unshed tears, happy ones. But I blink them away and join back in on the conversation where the girls are talking about . . . stinky guys?

“I’m telling you, make a whole line marketed toward men. Make it smell like wood campfires, pine trees, leather, and diesel. Do one of your pun things with a goat logo saying, Don’t smell like goat ass. I’d buy a Christmas basket for every guy I know.” Rix leans back in the booth, and I see the toe of her black boot peek out where she’s got her feet propped up on the bench across from her.

She’s the picture of the cool, don’t fuck with me attitude. I’d love to take a picture, but my camera is at home. My brain still takes the frame. Click.

“Good idea, bad execution,” Katelyn corrects. “If you do a male line, don’t do anything crass. If it’s classy, I could use them as part of my bride and groom kits at the resort.”

The light over the table shines on her blonde hair and big, blue eyes giving her an All-American, Barbie doll look. Click.

I look around the table again. Each woman is so different and so beautiful in her own way.

“Uh, guys . . .”

My mouth opens before my brain can stop it, and everyone’s attention is on me. I almost say ‘never mind’ and forget about the stupid idea I just had. But somewhere inside, a tiny spark of ‘what if’ grows brighter.

“Can I ask you a crazy question?”

Shay snorts. “Considering we started the night by discussing blowjobs, I think we’ve made it quite clear that we’re up for anything. Whatcha wanna know? I can’t exactly offer everything I know about Bobby, but if you were to ask, I could maybe . . . blink once for yes and twice for no?” Her smile says she thinks that’s brilliant.

“No, I . . . uh . . . this is going to sound weird, but . . .” I don’t know why this is hard for me to ask. I’ve done it before, but not with people who mattered this much.

“Spit it out,” Katelyn says, pointing a sharp finger at Shay that tells her ‘not now’ like she could read her mind.

“Can I photograph y’all? Not for the blog, but just because. Like portraits. It’s not my primary work, but I think it could be something really special.”

There’s a half-beat of silence where I think it’s the stupidest idea ever before they explode.

“Yes!”

“When?”

“Now!”

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

I don’t even know who’s asking what, but somehow, I answer, “My place? We could go now and get some cool moonlight shots. And the cabin is cute, especially the kitchen. It’s cheery and vintage.”