She gives me a look over the rim of her mug. “Apparently, my daughter is big news.”
“Shealwayswas,” Daddy says around a mouthful of toast.
I groan into my coffee. “Everybody needs a hobby that isn’t me.”
Nash sits at the end of the table in a clean t-shirt and that damn Stetson, forearms tan and already dusted from checking the front gate. He’s scrolling his phone with a half-smile that makes me nervous.
“Somebody die?” I ask.
“Nah.” He turns the screen so I can see the Hawthorne brothers’ group chat.
Crewe:Mom just asked if she should start sewing a dress.
Mack:You finally made an honest woman of my favorite Coleman, proud of you, jackass.
Sin:Try not to get shot this time.
Banks:She’s lost her mind.
Jace:Do I get to be best man or is Crewe going to pull rank?
Colt:I’m not wearing a tie.
I choke on my coffee. “You told them?”
“Of course not,” Nash says, amused. “News travels. Colt’s camping buddy texted him. Said ‘saw your brother at the Beaver last night losing his mind over some girl.’”
“Some girl,” I repeat. “Rude.”
He looks up. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”
My insides go warm and unsettled.
Mama sets a plate of eggs and biscuits in front of me and gives Nash a fresh one because she’s secretly adopted him and isn’t subtle about it.
“So,” she says, all casual in the way rattlesnakes are casual. “What’re y’all doing today? More… dates?”
“We’re going into town,” Nash says before I can answer. “Couple errands. Couple of… couple things.”
“Couple-y things,” I echo. “Very technical.”
“Gotta keep the brand consistent.” His eyes spark.
Daddy snorts. “Your mother and I are happy to handle the ranch chores while you kids go ‘brand’ yourselves all over Main Street.”
Mama smacks his shoulder with a dish towel. “Hush. We want folks to see him with her. If whoever’s messing with us knows we’ve hired help…” She trails off, eyeing Nash, then me. “This is the least horrible plan we’ve ever had.”
High praise.
Nash reaches for the jam, his arm brushing mine lightly. “We’ll check in with Gray too,” he says. “See if he dug anything up on Stroud.”
I stiffen. “What did he say last night?”
“Not much.” He nods, jaw tightening. “Told him what happened at the Beaver. And about the truck that cut across the back corner.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Truck?”
Mama freezes.
