“You caught cupcakes midair.”
“Practice.”
“You danced like you were born in boots.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“You made perfect bacon.”
He meets my eyes, and something in his gaze warms just a fraction. “Eat, Stella.”
I do, because the last thing I need is to argue with a man who can bench-press the entire kitchen.
The quiet stretches comfortably for a few minutes—just the clink of fork against plate, the hum of the refrigerator. It almost feels normal.
Almost.
Then I set my fork down and the question that’s been sitting in my throat all night finally pushes out.
“Have they found… them?” I ask softly. “The men. Whoever did this.”
Jack’s gaze sharpens—not at me, but at something in his own head. “Not yet.”
My stomach tightens. “So… we don’t know who.”
“No,” he says. “But we’ll know more soon. Grayson’s got people working it. Wyatt too.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
Jack watches me for a beat like he can see fear creeping around behind my eyes. “You’re safe here.”
I nod, but the fear isn’t about the cabin. It’s about thewhy.
Why me?
I’m not wealthy. I’m not famous. I’m not married to a billionaire with enemies. I’m just… Stella Hart. Kindergarten teacher. Cupcake enthusiast. Professional teddy bear rescuer.
“Why would anyone target me?” I blurt, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I don’t— I don’t have anything. I don’t have enemies. I don’t even have parking tickets.”
Jack’s jaw tightens. “Sometimes it’s not about enemies.”
I blink. “Then what is it about?”
His eyes hold mine. “Opportunity. Leverage. Someone trying to send a message.”
“To who?” I whisper. “Wyatt?”
“Could be,” he says. “Could be Lone Star. Could be someone you don’t remember.”
My chest tightens. “I’m… very memorable.”
Jack’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile and can’t. “You are.”
My heart does a stupid flutter. Then fear pulls it back down. “What are we doing today?”
Jack pushes his plate aside and shifts like he’s switching into mission mode. “We lay low.”
I frown. “Lay low. Like… hide.”
