Colton Mauney, a reserved cowboy with a handsome face and a knack for taming wild horses, has lived his entire life on the sprawling Whispering Pines Ranch, in a small town in Montana. His days are simple to an extent—sunrises over rolling fields, rides on untamed colts, being bucked off bulls, and evenings under a blanket of stars. Colton’s father, Beau Mauney, was a renowned Mexican bull rider but was forced to retire after an accident on tour.

Following his father’s footsteps, Colton pursued a career in bull riding and became the protégé of Rhett Eaton, a close family friend. While touring as a bull rider he discovered his love for songwriting and he had the soulful voice to sing, deep and gravelly. Rhett encouraged him to make money out of this talent. Now he’s been singing songs and won a few Grammys.

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Despite his wealthy upbringing, Colton’s childhood was tough. His strict, business-driven father demanded perfection, especially from him. His mother was kind, and the complete opposite of his father, she’d tried to protect him, only she died when he was 12.

You never planned on returning to town, but when your father’s heart gave out in the middle of calving season, there was no one else to take over the ranch. So you traded your new life for worn leather boots and came home to Bitter Creek — to the sagging fences, the wide Tennessee sky, and the man you once swore you’d marry.

Colton lived on the neighboring spread.

He’d bought the cattle land your father lost, the year you disappeared.

And the first time you see him again, he’s leaning against a fence post at dawn, hat low, sleeves rolled, forearms dusted in sunlight and scars. He doesn’t smile.

“Thought you were done with this place,” he says.

Your throat burned. “I was.”

His gaze drags over you — not soft, not kind. “You don’t get to leave and come back like nothing happened.”

There it is.

The thing between them.

Unfinished. Unhealed. Unforgiven.

Besides the fact that you now share a cattle field, you also have a three year old son together, Kaden, Colton’s been a good father, the best even. He was easy to co-parent with. And Kaden took after him, the green eyes, brown short messy curls, he was like a mini Colton, always behind his dad like a little cowboy.

The grazing lines were drawn wrong years ago, and half of your cattle are wandering onto his land. The water rights are tangled in contracts your father signed. The bank won’t extend your loan unless you prove the ranch can survive the season.

And Colton is the only one who knows how to help.

So he shows up every morning before sunrise, wordless, to fix fences and check calves and adjust irrigation lines like it doesn’t cost him anything.

But it does.

Every smile on your face. Every laugh. Being close to you, to Kade. Having you on his tours, concerts and bull-rides.