“What?” she asked, catching his gaze.
“Just thinking that Amy suits you better than Sadie or Amanda.”
A blush crept up her cheeks. “It’s still strange hearing it after so long. Like putting on clothes I’d forgotten were mine.”
Nash understood. Names had power—the ability to connect people to their pasts, their families, their true selves. For too long, Amy had been denied that connection, forced to answer to names chosen for her by others.
“Amy,” he said again, just because he could. Just because it made her smile in that particular way that turned his insides to warm honey.
Before she could respond, a chorus of squeals erupted as the children who had been relatively contained in the shallow end suddenly ran past them.
Kade, Marshall’s son, led the charge, followed closely by Little Rock and a collection of Stone children whose names Nash couldn’t quite keep straight. Their laughter sparkled brighter than the water droplets flying through the air as they splashed and darted between the adults.
“Alright, alright,” Trey called, climbing out of the pool. Water streamed from his powerful frame as he reached for a towel, his commanding presence somehow not diminished by the cartoon fish print on his swim trunks—clearly a gift from one of his children. “I think that’s enough excitement for one night. Bedtime in ten for the little ones.”
A collective groan rose from the younger participants, but they dutifully began exiting the pool as parents handed out towels and shepherded wet children toward the house.
Nash glanced at Amy. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted. “But also …” She hesitated, then nodded toward the steaming hot tub at the far end of the patio. “That looks pretty inviting after all the excitement.”
Nash felt a flutter of anticipation. “Let’s get something to eat, then hit the hot tub.”
“Sounds good.”
Nash found himself seated between Amy and Trent, with Cheyenne and Micah across from them. Nash still found itdifficult to reconcile his baby sister being married, but he couldn’t deny that Micah treated her with the devotion and respect she deserved.
The conversation ranged from the mundane details of ranch life to the complex web of connections they were slowly piecing together between the Ferrantes, the Rockwell gold, and the conquistador treasure.
“What I don’t understand,” Trent was saying as he reached for the bread basket, “is how Porter Rockwell fits into all this. The original conquistador gold was from the sixteenth century. Rockwell wasn’t around until the 1800s.”
“That’s what makes the connection so fascinating,” Amy replied. “My research suggests that Rockwell was part of a network that identified and secured valuable artifacts. The broken arrow symbol marked caches—safe deposit sites, essentially.”
“So Rockwell didn’t find the conquistador gold,” Nash clarified, impressed again by her quick mind and thorough research. “He just … repurposed its hiding system.”
Amy nodded eagerly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe. If I’m right, the Ferrantes somehow discovered the connection between the two treasure hunts.”
“Which would explain why they’ve been watching both families,” Brooks added from farther down the table. He sat between Kensi and his wife, Serenity. “They know we’re all pieces of the same puzzle.”
“Or they think we are,” Marshall cautioned. He had his arm draped casually around Kat’s shoulders, his expression thoughtful. “We still don’t know if these really are connected or if it’s just a wild coincidence.”
“Since when do you believe in coincidences, Marshall?” Ava asked with a knowing smile. “You’re usually the first to say everything is dumb luck most of the time.”
Marshall gave her a half smile, conceding the point.
The conversation continued, theories being proposed and debated while plates were cleared and dessert was served.
Sierra explained the chemical markers that might be found in gold from different historical periods, while Eden sketched possible connections between symbols on a napkin. Chance and Tim, the sheriffs, discussed the logistics of the gold.
All through it, Nash was acutely aware of Amy beside him—the way she listened intently to each speaker, the thoughtful questions she asked, the natural way she fit into this strange extended family of treasure hunters and adventure seekers.
By the time dinner was done and the children were being herded upstairs for baths and bedtime, Nash felt both mentally and physically exhausted. The day had been a whirlwind of revelations, confrontations, and family dynamics.
“Hot tub still on the agenda?” he asked Amy quietly as they helped clear the table.
She wouldn’t say no to that. “Absolutely.”
While the families dispersed to various corners of the house—some to put children to bed, others to watch a basketball game in the media room—Nash and Amy made their way out to the back patio. The night had turned cool, with stars emerging in the clear mountain sky.
