Page 25 of Her Steamy Cowboy
"Same smile. Same way of holding yourself." He gestures at the house, where the sounds of the party drift out. "This place is something else. Your letters didn't do it justice."
"You got my letters?" Something warm blooms in my chest.
"Every single one." His smile is tentative but real. "They meant... they meant everything, sweet pea.”
"Come inside?" I step back, holding the door wider. "There are some people I'd really like you to meet."
My dad nods, following me into the warmth of the party. I spot Jace immediately – he's been watching the door, trying to look casual about it and failing completely. He makes his way over to us, and my heart swells at how naturally he slides his hand into mine.
"Mr. Turner,” Jace says, extending his free hand. "I'm Jace Clayton. It's really good to finally meet you."
"You're the one who owns this beautiful ranch?" Dad asks, shaking Jace's hand.
"Family ranch," Jace corrects with a smile. "My brothers and I run it together. Can I get you a drink? We've got quite the bar set up."
Before Dad can answer, a familiar whirlwind in emerald silk descends upon us.
"Lindsay!" Rachel exclaims, then catches herself, lowering her volume slightly. "Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't wait anymore." She turns to my father with her warmest teacher smile. "Mr. Turner, I'm Rachel, Lindsay's best friend and occasional voice of reason."
"When have you ever been the voice of reason?" I tease, grateful for how she's diffusing the tension.
"I'll have you know I am extremely reasonable," Rachel sniffs. "I simply choose not to be boring about it."
Dad actually laughs at that, and something tight in my chest begins to unwind. As Rachel draws him into a conversation about his drive up, I lean into Jace's side.
"You okay?" he murmurs against my hair.
"Yeah," I whisper back. "I really am."
The next fewhours pass in a blur of introductions and conversations.
Dad gradually relaxes as the Clayton family welcomes him with their usual warmth. I catch glimpses of him throughout the night – discussing classic cars with Wyatt, getting drink recommendations from Brody, even laughing at one of Luke's terrible jokes.
Each sight feels like a gift, like pieces of a life I never thought I'd get to see.
There's still so much to work through, so many conversations we need to have, but tonight I can see the possibility of a future where my father is part of my life again. Not in the same way as before – we've both changed too much for that – but in a new way that might be just as meaningful.
As midnight approaches, the energy in the room shifts like a current through water.
Someone dims the lights, and I watch as couples gravitate toward each other, drawn by the magnetic pull of almost-midnight on New Year's Eve. Rachel, ever the director of moments, is herding people into position, her voice carrying over the music as she organizes the countdown.
My heart is already racing when I feel Jace's fingers brush the small of my back, his touch sending electricity through the thin fabric of my dress. "Come with me?"
He holds out his hand – those familiar calluses, the small scar on his thumb from fixing fences last summer, the gentle strength I've come to rely on. I slip my fingers into his without hesitation, letting him lead me through the French doors onto the back deck. The winter air hits my bare shoulders, crisp andclean and full of possibility. Behind us, the party sounds become muffled, like we're in our own bubble of time and space.
"TEN! NINE!"
Jace turns to face me, and my heart stumbles over itself at the way the light from inside catches his profile. He draws me closer, one hand settling on my waist while the other releases mine to reach into his pocket. The wool of his dress shirt is rough under my fingers as I steady myself against his chest.
"Remember the first time we met?" His voice is soft with memory. "You were sitting under that big oak tree by the lake, lost in your book. I was showing off on my bike like an idiot?—"
"EIGHT! SEVEN!"
"—and you looked up just in time to see me completely wipe out." A laugh bubbles up in my chest at the memory, though my eyes are stinging with unexpected tears.
"You mean when you interrupted my perfectly peaceful afternoon by bleeding all over my favorite book?" I reach out and poke him in the ribs. "I still have that copy of Pride and Prejudice, you know. Complete with the bloodstains on page ninety-four."
His free hand trembles slightly as he pulls something small from his pocket, and I fight back a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. "You kept it?"