He nodded solemnly.“Ah, yes.Small but dangerous.I see why Nate is afraid of you.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” Nate muttered, and Misha laughed louder.
The third man leaned against the wall, all slick dark hair and sinfully green eyes.His smirk could probably start a small war.
“Dante Rinaldi,” he said smoothly.“Center.Trouble, if you ask the wrong person.”
“I’ll make sure to ask the right ones,” I said, matching his smirk.
His grin widened.“Smart and beautiful.No wonder the Captain’s smiling again.”
Nate groaned.“Ignore him.He was dropped on his head as a child.”
“Repeatedly,” Gabe murmured.
“Voluntarily,” Misha added, and the group burst out laughing.
Still, something about it felt strange.The way they looked at me, like they already had opinions formed.Like they’d all been briefed.
Before I could dwell on it, McKenna jogged over, grin boyish, hair damp and sticking up in every direction.
“Hey, Tessa, can I ask you something?”he said.“How come you call everyone else by their first names but not me or Colby?”
I smiled.“Because they introduced themselves by their first names.”
He blinked, paused, then laughed.“Oh.Well… I’m Liam.”
“It suits you, Liam,” I said.
His grin faltered, cheeks pinking up.“Yeah?Cool.Good.”
Before I could say more, Nate’s arm slid lightly around my waist.“Hey, this one’s claimed.”
From behind us, someone coughed something that sounded a lot likeby the whole damn team, and Misha choked on his water.
I didn’t ask.I just smiled up at Nate and let it go.
The rhythm of us began quietly, softly.
Mornings at the Carsons’ farm, dirt under my nails, sun on my neck.Maggie and I would plant quick-yield crops for the fall, the air humming with heat and insects.
Sometimes Nate would just appear, boots crunching on gravel, grin slow and easy, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“You following me, Captain?”I teased once, straightening up.
“Maybe,” he said.“I like having my eyes on you.”
I laughed, pretending my heart didn’t skip a beat.He’d take over whatever I was doing, fixing fencing, hauling feed, hammering posts into the ground like it was nothing.
When I asked if he was trying to impress me, he looked up through his lashes and said, “Is it working?”
It was, and he knew it.
Lunches on the tailgate became a habit.Cold lemonade and sandwiches, sitting so close that my leg was constantly brushing his.The quiet between us never felt empty; it feltsafe.
“You always this quiet?”I asked.
He shrugged.“Not when I’ve got something to say.”
