“Approve?” I say. “That suit should come with a warning label.”
Topper swallows his bite of elk. “Maybe ‘contents are dangerously hot’?”
Leo pretends to swoon. “Someone hold me.”
They all laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that only comes after a long day and a good meal.
Millie lifts her wine glass. “Well, I’m thrilled to see Duke dressing up for once. I think we all should dress up more for these dinners Thatcher puts on.”
Topper groans dramatically. “Last time I tried to dress up for one of these dinners, I split the seat of my pants getting out of the golf cart.”
“Those pants were four sizes too small,” Duke quips.
Rusty chimes in without missing a beat. “That was the same night you tried to impress that yoga instructor from Aspen.”
Stedman lifts his brow. “The one with the man bun?”
“No, that was her assistant, Jeff,” Topper says, pointing his fork at him. “Although hewashandsome.”
Georgia giggles into her wineglass. “I remember that night.You refused to sit down the whole evening. Kept leaning against the wall like it would fall down if you weren’t there.”
“Y’all were just jealous,” Topper says. “I looked good.”
Millie shakes her head, laughing. “You looked like you got dressed in the dark.”
I catch Duke watching the table. He’s smiling, but not just with his mouth. It’s in the way his shoulders relax, the way his gaze lingers a second longer on each of us. This … this right here is what Firebird gives people—a family.
Rusty starts chatting Duke up about his trip with Charlie when Millie taps me on the shoulder.
“You’d be good for him,” she says, nodding toward Duke. “I can see it. And Lord knows that man needs someone to light him up from the inside out.”
I blink. “Oh, I?—”
“Don’t be modest, honey. Duke was a broken man until you got here.”
I smile and give a small nod. “I was broken too when I arrived. Not sure I’m all put together again, but I’m getting there.”
“You will. You’ll get there,” she says, gently rubbing my arm. “I’ve seen miracles happen on this ranch, and I know they will happen for you, too.”
“Thanks, Millie.”
The table is still humming with the final notes of laughter and clinking glasses when Thatcher and the other chefs join in to enjoy the last bites of dinner. Though they protest, I tell everyone to relax and enjoy as I collect empty dessert plates and head for the kitchen. The hallway is dim, the chatter behind me fading under the low drone of kitchen fans. I pass the swinging door and place the plates by the sink, pausing for a breath.
When I turn around, I freeze.
Garrett.
He’s leaning against the wall like a shadow that’s slipped freeof its source. His fingers are wrapped around the lip of a beer bottle. His eyes are dark, his shirt rumpled in the way that spells trouble. “Hey.”
“Hello,” I say carefully. “Everything okay?”
He takes a step forward, and something tightens in my chest.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, blinking slowly, like he’s dragging each word up from the bottom of a bottle. “You … you’re always with him now. Faraday.”
I swallow and avoid his eyes. “I think you better sleep this one off.”
I try to move past him, but he steps into my path. His shoulders are squared now, and he’s carrying military muscle that hasn’t softened.
