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“This,” Agatha announced, surveying the dusty expanse of Golden Valley Ranch with undisguised disdain, “is where dignity goes to die.”
Nicholas bounced excitedly in the passenger seat, his face pressed against the window.
“Mom, look at all the horses!”
“I see them, sweetheart. I see the large, potentially lethal animals that you've convinced me to let you spend three months with. Stellar parenting on my part, really.”
But despite herself, Agatha felt her lips twitch upward. The things she did for this kid. Including, apparently, spending her summer in what appeared to be the set of every shitty Western movie she’d ever seen.
Nicholas was already scrambling out of the car, tripping and nearly faceplanting in his enthusiasm. Agatha’s smile disappeared, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache building.
The drive from the city had been long, the summer sun was merciless, and she had definitely already fucked up her best shoes just by walking from the car to the ranch office.
“Welcome to Golden Valley!” A cheerful voice called out. Too cheerful. Agatha turned to see a young man practically vibrating with enthusiasm. He wore a name tag that read 'TEEN' which... couldn't possibly be right.
“Let me guess,” Agatha drawled. “You're the welcoming committee?”
“Oh no, that's Rio! She's just finishing up in the arena. But I'm her apprentice!” He beamed at them. “I can show you where to take Nicholas's stuff. We've got him in Cabin Three with the other intermediate riders, it's right next to the-”
“Hold that thought,” Agatha interrupted, holding up one perfectly manicured hand. “Who exactly is in charge here? Because I was told to speak with someone named Jennifer about Nicholas's arrangements, not...” she gestured vaguely at Teen's entire being, “...whatever this is.”
“Well, well, well,” a dry voice cut in. A woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper haircut strode up, clipboard in hand. “Agatha Harkness. Still a walking disaster, I see.”
“Jennifer Kale,” Agatha's face lit up with unholy glee. “You're running this dusty little establishment? How the mighty have fallen.”
Nicholas, who had been staring longingly at the distant horse paddocks, snapped to attention. “Hi, Miss Kale! When do we get to start riding? Do we get our own horses? Can we-”
“All in good time,” Jen said, but her stern expression had softened slightly. Agatha tried not to smile - of course Nicholas could charm even Jennifer Kale. “First, let's get you settled. Teen, why don't you help Nicholas with his stuff?”
“Sure thing, boss!” Teen bounded over to their car like an oversized puppy. “Wow, you guys brought a lot of stuff! Did you pack your whole house?”
“If you break anything,” Agatha said sweetly, already planning how to explain to Jen why one of her employees had mysteriously disappeared, “I'll break you.”
Teen's eyes widened. Before he could respond, a new voice rang out across the yard. “Hey now, is that any way to treat our staff?”
Agatha turned and promptly forgot how to breathe.
And also, apparently, how to form a coherent thought. Wonderful.
A woman was walking toward them, all long limbs and easy grace. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her skin sun-kissed and gleaming.
She wore well-worn jeans and a green flannel with the sleeves rolled up, revealing toned forearms that... yeah, no, Agatha was not going to fixate on those.
She was not going to think about capable hands or the way that flannel pulled just right across- Nope.
“What's up? I'm Rio. Rio Vidal.” The woman's smile was an infuriating mix of casual confidence and something else that made Agatha's stomach do unauthorized acrobatics.
Agatha took her extended hand, telling herself the spark she felt was just static electricity. Or possibly the beginning of a stress-induced cardiac event, whatever. “Agatha Harkness. And this is Nicholas.”
God, Jennifer was watching this interaction with far too much interest. Agatha was never going to hear the end of this.
“Nicky,” Rio's grin widened impossibly further, and honestly, who gave her the right? “I hear you're quite the horse enthusiast.”
Nicholas nodded eagerly. “Mom says I'm obsessed, but she's just mad because I covered my whole room in horse posters.”
“Because you love what you love with your whole heart,” Agatha corrected softly, then added with a dramatic sigh, “Even if what you love did cost me my security deposit.”
Rio's eyes danced with amusement. “Well,” she said, “I think you're going to fit right in here. Want to meet your summer partner?”
Nicholas's eyes lit up. “My horse?”
“If that's alright with your mother?” Rio turned to Agatha, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
The woman moved like she owned every inch of space she occupied, and it was deeply annoying. Almost as annoying as the way Agatha's pulse jumped when those dark eyes met hers.
Agatha furrowed her brow. “Shouldn't he get settled first? Unpack? Sign whatever liability forms will prevent me from suing when this inevitably goes horribly wrong?” She could feel Jen's eye roll without even looking at her. Some things never changed.
“You already signed them all online, duh,” Nicholas piped up, the little traitor. “Please, Mom? Please?”
Rio's eyes danced with amusement. “I promise to return him in one piece.”
“You’d better.” Agatha knew she sounded petulant. She didn't care.
Nicholas was looking at her with those damn puppy eyes and Rio's smile had softened into something almost genuine, and... oh, hell.
She was already regretting letting Wanda talk her into this program during that wine-soaked PTA meeting last month.
“Fine,” she sighed. “But if he comes back with so much as a scratch-”
“You'll end me?” Rio suggested cheerfully.
Agatha spread her hands in front of her and arched an eyebrow. And she absolutely did not shiver at the way Rio's eyes seemed to darken at that. Surely that was just a trick of the light.
“Looking forward to it.” Rio winked – actually winked, and that was certainly not a trick of the light – and gestured for Nicholas to follow her. “Come on, kid. Let's go meet Sparky.”
As Nicholas practically skipped after Rio (and Agatha absolutely did not watch them go, or at least that's what she'd tell Jennifer later), she heard Teen whisper to Jen, “They're totally gonna fall in love, right?”
“Twenty bucks says they kill each other first,” Jen replied, and Agatha could hear the smirk in her voice. Fifteen years later and Jennifer Kale was still the worst.
Agatha closed her eyes, already regretting every life choice that had led her to this moment.
Summer camp. A ranch. Jennifer fucking Kale. And now Rio Vidal with her perfect hair and her ridiculous fucking flannel and her... whatever.
Rio led them toward the stables, Nicholas practically vibrating with excitement beside her.
Agatha followed at what she deemed a safe distance from any sudden horse movements, though this plan was immediately ruined when Rio called back:
“Come on, you'll want to see this too!”
“I absolutely will not,” Agatha muttered, but quickened her pace anyway because Nicholas had turned to beam at her. Damn it. She'd face down an entire stampede for her kid’s smile, God help her.
The stable air was thick with the smell of hay and leather and... other farm-adjacent things Agatha was choosing not to identify. (Manure. Definitely manure.) Nicholas, however, inhaled deeply like he was at a five-star restaurant.
“Here we are,” Rio announced, stopping at a stall where a gleaming black horse stood calmly. “Nicky, meet Sparky.”
“Hi,” Nicholas breathed, approaching the stall with something close to reverence.
Agatha's heart did something complicated in her chest.
She'd seen that look before - usually reserved for particularly compelling museum exhibits or that time they'd met Jane Goodall. But this was different. This was her baby, completely in his element in a place she'd never imagined either of them would be.
“Can I touch him?” Nicholas asked, looking between Rio and his mother.
“'Course,” Rio said easily, then caught Agatha's eye. “He's our gentlest one. Perfect for beginners.”
“If by 'gentlest' you mean 'least likely to trample my only child,' then yes, wonderful,” Agatha said, but there was no real bite to it. Not when Nicholas was reaching out to carefully stroke Sparky's nose, his whole face lit up with joy.
“Mom, look! He likes me!”
“Of course he does, sweetheart.” Agatha stepped closer, definitely not because Rio's presence at her elbow was doing strange things to her spatial awareness. “What's not to like?”
“Want to give it a try?” Rio asked, and it took Agatha a moment to realize the question was directed at her.
Agatha scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on. Just one little pat. Show Nicky you're not scared.”
“I am not scared,” Agatha said, pretending to examine her nails. “I am appropriately cautious of any creature that could kill me with its pinky toe.”
“Horses don't have pinky toes, Mom,” Nicholas supplied helpfully.
“Thank you, honey. Your timing, as always, is impeccable.”
Rio's laugh was warm and rich and entirely too knowing. “Here,” she said, and before Agatha could protest, she'd caught her hand in a gentle grip.
Ah, fuck.
Rio's hand was roughly calloused but warm, her touch surprisingly gentle as she guided Agatha's palm to Sparky's neck. The horse's coat was smooth and soft under her fingers, nothing at all like the coarse hair she'd expected.
“See?” Rio's voice was soft, entirely too close to Agatha's ear. “Not so bad.”
Agatha meant to say something cutting about personal space and presumption. What came out instead was a quiet hum.
“Mom, you're doing it!” Nicholas's delight made any embarrassment worth it. Almost.
Agatha cleared her throat, very aware that Rio hadn't fully released her hand. “Okay, so it’s. Not entirely horrible.”
A sharp whistle from the paddock made them all jump. Jen stood at the fence, looking far too amused.
“If you're done with the petting zoo portion of our day,” she called, “we should probably get Nicholas settled before dinner. Teen's already reorganized his luggage three times.”
“By which she means he's dropped it at least twice,” Rio stage-whispered, finally stepping back and taking her warmth with her.
Agatha immediately missed the contact. She immediately hated that she missed the contact. Someone needed to get her off of this godforsaken ranch. Quickly.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she said to Nicholas, who was still gazing at Sparky adoringly. “You'll have all summer to commune with your new four-legged friend.”
“Promise you'll come see him with me sometimes?”
And really, what was Agatha supposed to do with that hopeful look except cave completely?
“Of course.” She shot Rio a warning look. “Though next time perhaps without the manhandling.”
Rio's grin was positively wicked. “Whatever you say.”
As they walked back to where Teen was indeed refolding all of Nicholas's shirts (“They need to be sorted by sleeve length!”), Agatha caught Jen watching her with knowing eyes.
“Not a word,” Agatha warned.
“Wasn't going to say anything.” Jen's smirk said otherwise.
“I hate you.”
“Obviously.” Jen consulted her clipboard. “Dinner's at six. Try not to scandalize the other parents.”
“No promises,” Agatha muttered, watching Rio help Nicholas demonstrate proper shirt-folding technique to an increasingly flustered Teen.
The cottage door creaked when Agatha pushed it open, because of course it did. Everything in this place probably creaked, groaned, or otherwise protested. She couldn't blame it.
She dropped her keys on the rickety table by the door, wincing at the way they skittered across the weathered wood. The table wobbled, naturally.
She'd picked this rental because it was a five-minute drive from the ranch - close enough to hover, far enough to pretend she wasn't hovering.
“Right,” she announced to the empty cottage. “Wine. Immediately.”
The kitchen was small but serviceable, and most importantly, was now home to three bottles of very expensive red she'd brought with her. She grabbed one, not bothering to check the label. At this point, alcohol content was more important than vintage.
Nicholas had been fine when she left him. Even better than fine - he'd been practically glowing, already deep in conversation with his cabinmates about their horses.
She'd hugged him tight after dinner, pressed a kiss to his forehead (ignoring his exaggerated “Mom, not in front of everyone!”), and promised to see him at tomorrow's afternoon riding lesson.
He hadn't even looked back as Teen led the kids off to their evening activities.
Agatha took a long drink straight from the bottle, because if you couldn't drink wine like water when your only child abandoned you for horses, when could you?
She kicked off her ruined shoes, leaving them in the middle of the floor out of spite. The cottage's previous occupant had apparently been very into horse-themed decor, and the judgmental stare of the ceramic stallion on the windowsill was really not helping her mood.
“Oh, fuck you,” she told it, taking another drink.
The stallion said nothing, but she could feel its judgment.
“Don't even get me started on Rio,” she continued, jabbing an accusatory finger at the ceramic horse. Still no response. Typical.
The worst part was, Nicholas clearly adored Rio already. And she had been so good with him, patient and encouraging and...
Nope. She was not doing this. This was about Nicholas having a good summer. That was it.
She was going to take a very hot shower, finish her wine, and absolutely not think about the way Rio's hands had looked on Sparky’s reins, or how her laugh seemed to warm the whole room at dinner, or-
“Fuck.”
The ceramic stallion just kept on staring.
Agatha was going to kill Jennifer Kale.
“Oh, the weather's fine in the summer,” she muttered, doing her best impression of Jen's voice as she speed-walked across the ranch yard. “Barely rains at all. You don't even need an umbrella, Agatha. Your emergency weather kit is excessive, Agatha. No raincoat necessary, Agatha.”
Thunder cracked overhead as if to prove her point.
She'd meant to catch the beginning of Nicky’s first riding session, but clearly that was no longer in the cards. Mother Nature had other plans, and the sky had gone from “suspiciously cloudy” to “biblical deluge” in approximately thirty seconds.
The first fat drops of rain hit just as Agatha spotted the barn. She made a break for it, dignity be damned, her button-down already starting to cling uncomfortably to her chest and arms.
She yanked the barn door open and darted inside, immediately assaulted by the smell of hay and leather and horse. Hey, at least it was dry horse.
“Huh. Didn't expect to see you here.”
Agatha closed her eyes. Of course. Of fucking course.
Rio was perched on a hay bale, long legs crossed at the ankle, looking irritatingly amused. And irritatingly dry.
“Do not speak,” Agatha warned, trying to salvage what remained of her hair. She could feel it starting to frizz. Wonderful.
“Wasn't going to say anything.” Rio's grin widened.
Thunder boomed again, closer this time. Agatha barely stopped herself from jumping.
“Nicholas-” she started, already reaching for the door.
“Is fine,” Rio cut in, her voice gentler. “Teen's waiting out the weather with the kids in the cabin. They're probably having a blast right now - he always breaks out his secret candy stash during storms.”
“That's...” Agatha hesitated. “Actually somewhat reassuring.”
“Besides,” Rio added, “Jen would never let anything happen to them. She's probably got that unhinged weather radar pulled up on three different devices.”
Despite herself, Agatha smiled. That did sound like Jennifer.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the entire barn. This time she did jump, just a little. Just enough for Rio to notice, because God clearly had some type of beef with Agatha.
“Here,” Rio said, standing and shrugging off her flannel overshirt. Of course she was wearing layers. Of course.
“I'm fine,” Agatha said automatically, even as a cold shiver ran through her.
Rio just raised an eyebrow and held out the shirt. “You're dripping on my hay.”
“Your hay will survive.” But Agatha took the shirt, trying not to notice how warm it was.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re really the flannel type,” Rio mused, watching as Agatha slipped it on over her ruined blouse.
“Yeah, well.” Agatha rolled up the too-long sleeves with as much dignity as she could muster. “If you tell anyone about this, I'll-”
Rio’s snort cut her off. “You can sit, you know,” Rio said, patting the hay beside her. “I promise it won't bite.” Agatha rolled her eyes to cover the way her pulse jumped. This was fucking ridiculous.
But she did sit, careful to leave appropriate space between them. Space that seemed to shrink when Rio turned to face her, eyes dancing in the dim light.
“So,” Rio said. “Come here often?”
“I swear to god-”
“Sorry, sorry.” Rio held up her hands, laughing. “Couldn't resist. But seriously, you're allowed to relax, you know. The world won't end if Agatha Harkness sits in a barn for twenty minutes.”
“Tell that to my dry cleaner.” Agatha plucked at her blouse. “This is probably ruined.”
“Probably,” Rio agreed cheerfully. “But you know what they say - all the best stories start with ruined clothes.”
“That's not- no one says that.”
“I just did.”
“You're impossible.”
“I think you like it.”
And the thing was, Agatha couldn't even argue. Not when Rio was looking at her like that, all warm eyes and soft smile. Not when the storm had turned the air thick and close, making everything feel slightly unreal. Not when-
A phone buzzed. They both jumped.
Agatha fumbled for her cell, heart leaping when she saw Nicholas's name.
“Sweetheart? Nicky? Are you okay?”
“I'm fine, Mom! Teen's teaching us how to make s'mores in the microwave! Did you know you can do that? Also I think Alice is going to kill him because he got marshmallow on the ceiling but it's fine because-”
Agatha listened to her son ramble, something in her chest loosening with relief. She was vaguely aware of Rio watching her, that same soft look on her face.
When she hung up, Rio was still smiling.
“What?” Agatha demanded.
“Nothing.” Rio stretched her arms above her head, her t-shirt riding up just slightly. “Just... you're different with him. It's nice.”
Agatha looked away. “He's the only person on this ranch I actually like.”
Rio just laughed, moving to check on something in one of the stalls. “Looks like the rain's letting up,” she called over her shoulder. “Should be safe to make a run for it soon.”
Agatha stood too, straightening her clothes automatically. She started to shrug off the flannel.
“Keep it,” Rio said, still not looking at her. “It suits you.”
“I don't-”
“Think of it as a souvenir of your great barn adventure.”
Agatha rolled her eyes, but she left the flannel on. “You're ridiculous.”
“You like it,” Rio said again, softer this time.
And Agatha... Well. Agatha didn't argue.
One Week Later
Agatha sat perched on the wooden bleachers like they had personally offended her. “I can't believe I'm spending my Saturday watching people deliberately antagonize livestock.”
“Mom,” Nicholas stage-whispered beside her, “Rio's about to go!”
And there she was, appearing behind the gate on a chestnut horse. Her hair was braided tight against her scalp, bandana knotted at her throat, and an incredibly unserious cowboy hat on her head.
“Go Rio!” Nicholas shouted, loud enough to drown out the rest. Teen, sitting on his other side, whooped in agreement.
Agatha would rather die than admit the way her breath caught when Rio turned toward their section, grinning that stupidly charming grin.
She tipped her hat in their direction - in Agatha's direction, if she was being honest, which she absolutely wasn't - before turning toward the first barrel.
“Watch this,” Teen said excitedly. “She's got the fastest time in the state for-”
But Agatha had stopped listening, because Rio and her horse had exploded out of the gate. Quite honestly, Rio looked like a bat out of hell on that horse, taking the turns so tight Agatha's heart leapt into her throat.
And watching that was... well. It wasn't terrible. So sue her.
When Rio crossed the finish line and disappeared back behind the gate, the crowd erupted. Nicholas and Teen were on their feet, screaming. Even Jen, who'd been pretending to be more interested in her clipboard, was smiling.
“She's amazing,” Nicholas breathed, watching Rio come back out to take her victory lap.
Later, after the awards (first place, obviously, because Rio apparently didn't know how to do anything half-assed), Rio found them by the concession stand. She was slightly dusty, cheeks flushed with victory, and still wearing that ridiculous hat.
“So,” Rio drawled, coming to lean against the railing next to Agatha. “What'd you think?”
“I think it's a miracle you haven't broken your neck yet.”
Rio laughed. “Aw, were you worried about me?”
“Hardly.”
Rio's eyes danced with amusement before she plucked the cowboy hat off her own head and settled it on Agatha's.
“What are you-”
“There,” Rio said softly, adjusting the brim. Her fingers brushed Agatha's temple, feather-light. “Looks better on you anyway.”
Agatha's heart did something complicated in her chest. She opened her mouth to say something cutting, something to diffuse the sudden tension in the air-
“Mom!” Nicholas called from the food truck. “They have corn dogs!”
The moment broke. Rio stepped back, that insufferable grin returning.
“Better go feed your kid,” she said. “And keep the hat, yeah?”
“I didn't win anything,” Agatha pointed out, definitely not reaching up to touch the hat's worn brim.
Rio's smile softened into something genuine. “Didn't you?”
She walked away before Agatha could respond, calling something to Teen about proper cool-down procedures. Agatha watched her go, very aware of the weight of the hat on her head, of the lingering feeling of Rio's fingers against her skin.
“Mom?” Nicholas appeared at her elbow, corn dogs in hand. “You okay? Your face is all red.”
“Sunburn,” Agatha said quickly.
“But you're wearing a hat.”
“Eat your corn dog, hun.”
Nicholas grinned, far too knowing for Agatha's comfort. “Rio's hat looks nice on you.”
“I'm sending you to boarding school.”
“No you're not.”
“No,” Agatha sighed, adjusting the hat. “I'm not.”
She wore the hat home. It was just practical sun protection.
Obviously.
Two Weeks Later
“And then,” Agatha said, sprawled across her couch with a glass of wine balanced precariously on her stomach, “she had the fucking audacity to wink at me. Who does that?”
“Mm-hmm,” Wanda hummed on the other end of the line. “Terrible. Just awful. And you said she's the head trainer?”
“Don't use that tone with me, Maximoff. I know exactly what you're doing.”
“I'm not doing anything!” Wanda protested, but Agatha could hear her grinning. “I'm just trying to keep up. So far we have: incredibly attractive ranch hand-”
“I never said attractive.”
“You spent ten minutes describing her forearms.”
“That was a complaint! They're distracting the other parents.”
“Sure.” Wanda's laugh was warm. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”
Agatha choked on her wine. “Excuse me?”
“Oh please. Nicky says-”
“You've been talking to Nicholas?”
“Of course I have, he's my favorite godson. He FaceTimed yesterday to show me the horses. And to tell them all about how his mom and Rio are, and I quote, 'pretending not to like like each other.'”
“I'm disowning him,” Agatha announced.
Wanda ignored her. “He also said Rio always happens to be 'checking the fences' or 'inspecting the arena' whenever you come to watch him practice. Even when she's supposed to be teaching barrel racing across the property.”
“She does not- that's not-” Agatha took a large gulp of wine. “Fuck you. We're not talking about this.”
Wanda chuckled. “Fine, fine. But you're happy? You and Nicky?”
Agatha's throat tightened slightly. “He's... he's amazing. You really should see him on that horse. He's so confident, so sure of himself. And Rio-” She caught herself. “The instruction is adequate.”
“Adequate. Right.” Wanda snorted. “And the fact that she brings you coffee every morning-”
“Who told you that?”
“-and saves you a seat at every Parents’ Dinner-”
“I'm hanging up now.”
“-and apparently looks at you like you hung the moon-”
“Goodbye, Wanda.”
Agatha hung up, tossing her phone aside with a groan.
“Come over,” Rio said, leaning against the arena fence. The kids had just finished their evening lessons and were all headed back to the cabins. “I've got beer that isn't Teen's homebrew experiment. Might even have some of that wine you pretend not to like.”
“Bold of you to assume I have nothing better to do,” Agatha said, but here she was, following Rio's truck down the winding dirt road anyway. Twenty minutes later, she was sitting on Rio’s back porch watching the sun tuck itself away behind the clouds.
“I can't believe Nicky convinced Teen to let him help reorganize the tack room,” Agatha said, swirling her glass. “I haven't seen him this excited about organizing since he alphabetized my entire vinyl collection.”
“By artist and album title,” Rio grinned. “He told me. Very proud of that system.”
“God, he really does tell you everything.”
“Not everything.” Rio's voice went soft at the edges. “You could tell me some things too.”
The air shifted, grew heavier. Agatha was suddenly very aware of how close they were sitting, of the way Rio's knee brushed against hers every time she moved.
“Like what?” Agatha asked, aiming for casual and missing by miles.
Rio turned toward her, eyes dark in the fading light. One hand came up, hesitant, fingers just barely brushing Agatha's jaw.
Time stretched, heavy like honey. Rio leaned in, slowly, giving Agatha plenty of time to pull away.
Agatha's heart thundered in her chest. She wanted - god, she wanted. But...
“Wait,” she breathed, pulling back. “I can't- we can't.”
Rio's hand dropped immediately. “Agatha-”
“Eight weeks,” Agatha said, hating the way her voice caught. “That's how much longer I’m here. And then Nicky and I go home, and this...” She gestured between them. “Whatever this is, it just... ends.”
The silence stretched between them.
“Friends then,” Rio said finally, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “I can do friends.”
“Friends,” Agatha echoed, ignoring the hollow feeling in her chest. She stood quickly, gathering her things with hands that definitely weren't shaking. “I should-”
“Yeah.” Rio's voice was carefully neutral. “Early morning tomorrow.”
Agatha made it to her car before she let out the breath she'd been holding. Friends. They could do friends. She was an adult, for fuck’s sake.
She absolutely did not think about the way Rio had looked at her, like she was something precious and wild and- No.
Just friends.
Fucking hell.
“It's a staff tradition,” Rio had said earlier, all casual confidence. “But you should come. Since you're stuck here all summer anyway.”
Which is how Agatha found herself walking down to the fire pit at dusk, telling herself she was only going because Nicholas had practically begged her to “go have fun, Mom.”
The fact that she'd spent twenty minutes deciding what to wear was irrelevant.
The bonfire was already blazing when she arrived, Teen was attempting to explain the “proper technique” for marshmallow roasting to Jen.
Alice sat cross-legged on a log, guitar in her lap, trying to teach everyone the words to what seemed to be an increasingly raunchy folk song.
“If Teen starts singing 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy,' I'm leaving,” Agatha muttered to herself.
“You came.”
Agatha turned to find Rio behind her, holding two cups. She looked unfairly good in the firelight, and Agatha wondered if it would be too traumatizing for everyone if she threw herself into the flames.
Rio stopped directly in front of her, holding out one of the cups. “Drink?”
“If you're serving that moonshine Jen's been bragging about making, I'll pass.”
Rio laughed, warm and real. “Just wine. The good stuff, even. I know how you feel about cheap alcohol.”
“You don't really know how I feel about anything,” Agatha said, but took the cup anyway.
“No?” Rio stepped closer, just barely. “Hm.”
Before Agatha could respond, there was a crash from the fire pit, followed by Teen's yelp of “I meant to do that!”
“I should probably...” Rio gestured vaguely toward the chaos.
“Probably,” Agatha agreed.
But neither of them moved.
Rio exhaled. “Your hat's holding up well,” she said softly, nodding over Agatha’s shoulder to where the cowboy hat hung on a fence post nearby.
“I was going to give it back.”
“No you weren't.” Rio laughed, but it was different from her usual easy chuckle. Something quieter, more honest.
Agatha just hummed.
Rio stepped closer, just barely. “Been thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime.”
Another small step. “You show up here, acting like the ranch personally offended you-”
“It did.”
Rio continues, “- and I know we said ‘friends,’ but you're beautiful and sharp and funny and kind of fucking terrifying-”
“Rio.”
“-and I really want to kiss you right now.”
The world went very, very quiet. Agatha could barely hear the fire crackling, Teen's distant laughter, her own pulse drowning everything else out.
Two months. Well. Fuck it. She'd made worse decisions.
Agatha grabbed Rio's shirt and pulled her in.
When their lips met, Agatha tasted wine and woodsmoke and summer. Rio's hands were gentle on her waist, like she thought Agatha might spook and run. As if Agatha hadn't been thinking about this for weeks, hadn't been dreaming about-
Her fingers found Rio's hair, because if she was already setting herself up for spectacular failure, she might as well go ahead and go all-in.
“Finally!” Teen's voice shattered the moment. “Jen, now you owe me twenty bucks!”
“Oh my god,” Agatha muttered against Rio's lips.
Rio laughed, soft and warm. “I can have Jen fire him.”
“No. Who else would color-code Nicholas's riding schedules?”
“Good point.” Rio pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “So...”
“So.”
“Was that okay?”
Agatha rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “It was okay.”
“High praise.”
“Don't let it go to your head.”
Rio's grin widened. “Too late.”
Summer slipped by in a haze of moments Agatha refused to call perfect:
Rio showing up at her cottage with coffee, picking the lock when Agatha took too long to answer (“I'm not even surprised you know how to do that.” “Please, these locks suck.”)
Nicholas catching them holding hands at dinner and trying very badly to hide his triumphant grin (“Not a word, Nicky.” “I didn't say anything!” “Your face is saying plenty.”)
Lazy Sunday afternoons watching Nicky practice, Rio's shoulder warm against hers as they sat on the fence. Sometimes Rio would correct his form, and Agatha definitely didn't notice the way her voice went soft and patient, the way Nicholas grinned when he got it right.
Teen bursting into tears when he caught them kissing in the barn (“It's just- it's just so beautiful!” “Fuck off, Teen.”).
Midnight rides that Rio somehow talked her into. Agatha complained about saddle sores and hay fever and Rio's terrible taste in country music (gross), but she never said no when Rio showed up at her door with that crooked smile.
Jen rolling her eyes at them constantly but somehow always scheduling Rio's teaching breaks to coincide with Agatha's visits (“You're not subtle.” “Neither are you, Jennifer.” “Touché.”)
The way Rio kept “forgetting” things at Agatha's rental cottage - another flannel, her baseball cap, and finally her own toothbrush.
And through it all, Nicholas was thriving. Growing confident and sure, making friends, falling in love with this dusty corner of the country that Agatha had somehow, against all odds, started falling in love with.
But August crept closer, inevitable. And Agatha tried not to think about empty coffee mugs and cold mornings and how she'd gotten damningly used to Rio's laugh.
They didn't talk about it. Not when Rio started leaving her things at Agatha's more frequently, like she was trying to scatter pieces of herself that Agatha would have to keep.
Not when Agatha caught herself looking up real estate listings in town, then closing the tab before she could do something stupid.
“It's a terrible investment,” Agatha announced, standing in her cottage's kitchen. “The roof leaks, the floors creak, and that fucking ceramic horse judges me every time I open a second bottle of wine.”
“But you're buying it anyway,” Rio said, not even trying to hide her grin.
“Obviously.” Agatha turned to Nicholas, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “Assuming you still want to spend your weekends and school breaks surrounded by hay and horse people.”
“Are you kidding? This is amazing! Can I repaint my room? Can we get our own horse? Can we-”
“One life-altering decision at a time, Nicky.”
Rio stepped closer, sliding an arm around Agatha's waist. “You know, there's this super sick riding instructor in town. Heard she gives private lessons.”
Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Teen hollering from Nicholas's soon-to-be room: “But what if we color-coded the entire closet?“
“I'm going to regret this,” Agatha muttered.
“No you're not,” Rio said against her lips.
“You’re insufferable.”
And she kissed Rio anyway.