POV Colt

Days after the bar, I found Kameron in the far pasture riding one of the newer horses in slow circles.

The early September heat pressed down on my shoulders as I approached. He saw me coming but didn’t stop. Just kept circling, his jaw tight, his posture too controlled for a man who prided himself on careless grace.

The conversation that followed became the most honest we’d shared since returning to the ranch. Perhaps the most honest of our entire friendship.

It didn’t start that way.

“We need to talk,” I said, positioning myself in his path.

“About what?” His voice carried that easy charm, but I heard the edge beneath it.

“About Ivory. Whatever game you’re playing needs to stop. She’s been through enough without your charm complicating things further.”

Kameron reined in his horse and stared down at me. The easy smile turned cold. “You don’t have any claim on her, McKenna. Hovering in the shadows and playing the responsible one doesn’t make you the better choice. She deserves a man who actually acts instead of waiting for permission.”

“I’m not playing anything. I’m looking out for her.” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“No, you’re staking territory you haven’t earned.” He swung down from the saddle, boots hitting the packed earth hard. “You think because you’re patient and steady, she’ll eventually fall into your arms? That’s not how Ivory works. She needs fire. Passion. Someone who makes her feel alive instead of just safe.”

The rivalry crystallized between us. Old wounds and new jealousy bleeding together in the afternoon heat. I stepped closer, my voice dropping low.

“It’s too late, Kameron. She and I have already been together.” I watched his face carefully. “She came apart under my hands. Gasping my name. Wanting me.”

I wanted to hurt him. Kameron went still, his ice-blue eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. I expected rage. Jealousy. The kind of explosive confrontation that ends friendships forever.

Then his expression shifted. A bitter laugh escaped him. “You’re not the only one. I’ve F**ked her too. In the backseat of that new truck, under the stars, with her riding me until we both shattered.”

Silence stretched between us. Something unexpected settled over us both instead of the explosion I’d anticipated.

We’d both been with her. Recently. And she hadn’t chosen between us.

She’d wanted us both.

The memory of the bar surfaced unbidden. Ivory trapped between us in that booth, our hands meeting beneath her skirt, neither pulling away. The way she’d trembled. The way she’d let us both touch her at once, as if choosing was the last thing on her mind.

Kameron voiced it first. “Maybe she doesn’t want to choose.”

I considered the words carefully. The jealousy was still there, a hot coal burning in my chest, but beneath it something else stirred.

I thought of how Ivory softened when Kameron taught the children to approach horses. How she’d melted against my chest when I held her through her wine-soaked confession. How she looked at both of us with the same hunger, the same wariness, the same desperate hope she tried so hard to hide.

Kameron stepped forward and added his own truth. “You’re not the naive girl I once dismissed. Watching you raise those children alone, build your practice, hold your family together—it’s changed how I see everything. I want more than stolen moments in a truck. I want mornings and arguments and the mundane beauty of a life built together.”

Ivory’s expression shifted between hope and suspicion. “Why are you telling me this together? Why now? What do you actually want from me?”

Kameron and I exchanged a look. This was the moment.

“We’ve talked,” I explained carefully. “Really talked. About you, about us, about what happened at the bar. We know you’ve been with both of us. We know you haven’t chosen between us. And we’re not asking you to.”

Kameron added, “We’re tired of competing. The jealousy is poison. The rivalry is exhausting. We want something different.”

Ivory stared at us as though we’d lost our minds entirely. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

I nodded slowly. “A relationship. With both of us.”

She laughed. Sharp. Disbelieving. The sound cut through the night air. “That’s insane. People don’t do that. This town would never accept it. I have three children to think about, children who are already confused enough about their lives.”

Kameron stepped closer. His voice dropped low, intimate. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But maybe you could let us show you what we’re offering. Just once. So you understand what it could be like—the three of us, together, without guilt or competition or secrets.”

Ivory’s green eyes moved between us. I watched her fight against what she wanted, watched the walls she’d built tremble under the weight of possibility.

“This is crazy,” she whispered. But she didn’t close the door.