I rubbed my chin. “Maybe not, but things haven’t happened in the right order.”
We were supposed to both be successful business owners, me with the wilderness retreat, Colt with his own ranch. Not that the order of things mattered to me. I believed events came about and fell into place exactly when they were supposed to. Colt, on the other hand, liked things just so. Five years ago, he’d purchased a hundred-acre spread in a gorgeous valley south of Bridgewater. The land was waiting for him—for us and a bride—to settle on, but that took more cash. And a woman. We needed a house, stable, horses and more. And a woman.
In the meantime, he was still working as lead foreman for Hawk’s Landing, a guest ranch owned by our friends, Ethan and Matt. He was invaluable to the place; in charge of the v
