The sun hadn’t been up an hour, but the bunkhouse was already loud with the scrape of chairs, the hiss of coffee pouring, and the smell of bacon thick in the air. Teeter perched cross-legged on the table with a plate balanced on her lap, hair wild and eyes bright as always. Ryan leaned back in his chair, boots propped up, while Walker strummed a few aimless notes on his guitar in the corner.
The screen door squeaked open, and in walked Colby, looking like he’d barely survived a cattle drive through hell. His shirt was buttoned crooked, his hat sat a little too low, and there was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his mouth, though he tried hard to hide it.
Every head turned.
“Morning, lover boy,” Ryan drawled, slow and deliberate, like he’d been practicing the line since dawn.
Teeter let out a bark of laughter so sharp she nearly choked on her bacon. “Hot damn, he glows. Look at him, y’all—boy lit up like a Christmas tree.”
Colby froze halfway to the coffee pot. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”
Walker’s guitar thrummed, a teasing little lick. “Funny, ‘cause the whole bunkhouse saw you sneakin’ back ‘cross the yard this morning, lookin’ like a cat that got into the cream.”
“Cream,” Teeter repeated, wagging her fork at him with a wicked grin. “Or should I say, her cream?”
The table erupted with hollers.
Colby flushed deep red, gripping the coffee pot like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. “Y’all got filthy damn minds, that’s what.”
“Filthy, sure,” Ryan said, smirking. “But not blind. You’ve been makin’ moon eyes at the boss’s lady for years, and now—what’s this? You finally tripped and fell into her good graces?”
Colby’s jaw worked, words failing him for once. He poured himself coffee, careful and slow, trying to pretend the room wasn’t vibrating with laughter.
“Don’t play dumb,” Walker added, strumming another lazy tune. “Ain’t nobody misses how you look at her when she rides up. Like she’s the sunrise and you’re the damn rooster.”
Teeter slammed her plate down, laughing so hard she snorted. “Sunrise and rooster! That’s a new one. Oh, Colb, you poor dumb sap.”
Colby dropped into a chair, muttering, “Ain’t like that.”
But it was exactly like that, and everyone knew it.
Ryan leaned forward, grin broadening. “What I can’t figure is how John took it. Man don’t share so much as a fence post—now he’s sharing that?”
The teasing quieted for a heartbeat, the weight of John’s name settling heavy in the room. Even Teeter bit her lip, waiting for Colby to answer.
Colby stared into his mug, then lifted his eyes slow and steady. “John knows. Wasn’t his idea, but… wasn’t a fight neither.”
That landed like a stone in water.
Ryan blinked. Walker stopped strumming. Even Teeter’s grin faltered into something wide-eyed.
“You mean to tell me…” Ryan’s voice dropped low, incredulous. “John Dutton’s sittin’ comfortable with you—you—keepin’ his woman company?”
Colby set his mug down hard, steel in his voice now. “Ain’t about comfort. Ain’t about permission either. It’s about her. And she wanted it this way.”
Silence, thick enough to chew, spread across the room. Then Teeter whistled low. “Damn, cowboy grew a backbone overnight.”
Walker chuckled, the sound rough but approving. “Guess hell done froze.”
Ryan shook his head, grinning again. “Well, I’ll be. Colby finally stopped pining and started livin’. World’s gone upside down.”
The tension broke, laughter spilling again. Teeter raised her fork in salute. “Just don’t screw it up, Colb. Otherwise, John’ll have your hide nailed to the barn wall.”
Colby smirked despite himself, leaning back in his chair, finally letting the grin loose. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
Across the table, Ryan muttered, “Handle it? Boy, you better pray you can survive it.”
The room roared again, but under all the ribbing, there was a thread of respect—grudging, surprised, but real. Colby had always been the joker, the easy target. Now, he’d crossed some invisible line, standing taller for it.