Beyond the skyline

Saturday nights

Dear Diary,

Saturday was shaping up to be quite the event. The ranch was abuzz with energy, everyone preparing for the big welcome-back party for Cole and the crew. Laura called it “an old-fashioned country celebration,” which sounded charming—until I realized it involved hay bales, fairy lights, and a barbecue setup that would put any professional catering company to shame. Ranch folks don’t do anything halfway, apparently.

By the time the sun began to set, people started showing up—cowboys fresh from the fields, ranch families, and even a few town locals. The kids ran wild, playing tag under the twinkling lights, while the grown-ups mingled around the fire pit, laughing and sipping beers. The air smelled like grilled meat and freshly baked pies, and for a moment, I thought, Maybe I really am living in a Hallmark movie.

And then Cole arrived.

You know how some people just command a room—or, in this case, a field? That’s Cole. He showed up with his crew, looking rugged and charming, like he’d just stepped out of a western catalog. His hat was tilted just right, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal those infamous forearms, and he wore that grin—the one that could melt butter and make your heart skip a beat.

I tried to act casual, mingling near the snack table with Laura, but my eyes kept darting to him like a moth to a flame. Of course, he spotted me almost immediately and headed my way, cutting through the crowd like it was nothing.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, tipping his hat slightly as he stopped in front of me.

“It’s my first ranch party. Had to make an appearance,” I replied, trying not to sound like I’d been holding my breath since he walked in.

His grin widened. “Glad you made it. Haven’t had a chance to thank you for keeping things interesting while I was gone. Heard you stirred up quite the commotion in the bunkhouse.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. That was not my fault. Your sister handled it perfectly, by the way. Remind me never to get on her bad side.”

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Yeah, Becky’s got a way of keeping things in line. Don’t take it personally; the ranch can be... intense.”

Before I could respond, the music shifted, and someone announced it was time for dancing. Of course, Cole didn’t even hesitate.

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding out his hand.

How could I say no?

The makeshift dance floor was nothing more than a cleared patch of grass, but it didn’t matter. He led me effortlessly, his hand on my waist, guiding me in slow, easy steps. For someone who claimed to be rusty, he sure moved like he’d been doing this his whole life.

“So,” he said, a teasing glint in his eye, “any bunkhouse drama I should know about tonight? Or are we in for a peaceful evening?”

I laughed. “No drama—yet. But the night is young.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flip. “Well, I don’t mind a little excitement. Keeps things interesting.”

And then, of course, the universe delivered.

Remember the ranch girl from Day 3? The one who accused me of stealing her hat? Yeah, she showed up. And, of course, she made a beeline for Cole.

“Care to dance, cowboy?” she purred, stepping far too close for comfort.

To his credit, Cole didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry,” he said, his tone polite but firm. “Already got a partner.”

She glared at me, but he didn’t even glance her way again. His focus was entirely on me, and let me tell you, Diary, that felt incredible.

We danced for what felt like hours, the world around us fading into the background. By the time the party started winding down, Cole offered to walk me back to my cottage.

The walk was quiet, the stars bright overhead, and for once, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. There was something peaceful about being around him, like everything else could wait.

When we reached my back porch, I stopped and turned to him, feeling oddly nervous. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice soft.

I was about to invite him in when I noticed something was off. My porch was a mess—chairs knocked over, potted plants smashed, and dirt scattered everywhere.

“What the—” I started, stepping closer. That’s when I noticed it. The hat. His hat. The one he’d tossed to me a few days ago? It was gone.

“Someone’s been here,” I said, my stomach sinking.

Cole’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a serious, protective look. “Stay here,” he said, stepping forward to inspect the mess.

I stood frozen, my mind racing. Who would do this? And why?

One thing’s for sure, Diary: life on the ranch is anything but boring.

Yours,

The Girl Who Might Need a Lock for Her Back Porch