Chapter 23
Joelle
I wake between Wade and Caleb, blinking sleepily in the dim gray-yellow light that signals morning is on its way. Both men are warm and solid beside me, their breathing deep and even. I glance at the baby monitor, finding baby Caleb stirring but not yet awake.
The room is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old farmhouse settling. Outside, the wind shifts through the trees like a lullaby, soft and low.
I lay between the men for a minute, half afraid to move, half drunk on the kind of happiness I’ve never known, looking from side to side at the handsome, stubbled faces of my sleeping cowboys, wondering what I did in a past life to deserve this sudden and amazing change in my circumstances. I used to think moments like this only happened in books, too fragile to be real, too perfect to last. But here I am, filled with so much love thatit spills out in tears.
Wade is the first to stir, kissing my shoulder and then lifting my shirt for a taste of morning sweetness. I moan quietly, threading my fingers through his sleep-disheveled hair as he sighs contentedly. I don’t know when this will stop, but right now, I don’t want anything to change. When he’s done, he nudges Caleb, kisses my forehead, and whispers a gruff, “Mornin’, beautiful,” before sliding out of bed to dress.
Caleb groans and stretches, his hands roaming my chest, weighing the difference between my breasts, finding his side still full and ready. He grins at me sleepily, brushing his knuckles along my cheek before he takes my nipple into his hot mouth, sucking deep and hard until I’m squirmy and in the mood for a different kind of morning wake-up. He chuckles against my skin like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s proud of it, too. I arch into him, torn between desire and duty, body humming with want.
Unfortunately, there’s no time.
He hauls himself up to join Wade for chores.
“We’ll be back for breakfast,” Caleb murmurs, pausing at the doorway to smile at me.
“I’ll make something special.”
“You already did,” he says, licking his lips, and I hide my face in my hands, flushing from my toes to my hairline.
I dress quickly in my new tank and light blue pants, then gather up my bundle of warm baby to get him ready for the day. He’s not walking yet, but he’s a crawler, so I’m grateful Caleb laid out a clean rug on the floorboards in his room.
That little gesture and so many others, done without being asked, make my throat ache.
I dress the baby in his soft overalls with the tiny duck embroidered on the front, kiss his curls until he squeals andsquirms, then bring him downstairs to watch me make breakfast. With his babbling, the coffee brewing, and blueberry muffins in the oven, the kitchen really feels like home.
Baby Caleb gnaws on his sippy cup while I work, rustling up his favorite fluffy pancakes and Wade’s favorite crispy bacon. The muffins will be served with maple-syrup sweetened creamy yogurt.
I hum while I work, to some old country tune I must have picked up since I arrived here.
I don’t know what comes over me, but something about cooking with my baby babbling happily behind me, the morning stretching wide, makes me want to fill the table with food. Feeding these men and my baby gives me a deep sense of satisfaction and belonging.
It’s not just breakfast. It’s a thank you and a promise.
When the back door swings open, the sound of boots and deep voices fill the kitchen. Eli, Rick, and two extra hands stomp in, smelling like hay and horse and sweat, their laughter big and warm. Wade and Caleb trail behind, dust on their jeans, emanating the kind of tired energy that comes from working before the rest of the world wakes.
“Holy hell,” Eli breathes, staring at the table. “We eatin’ like kings today?”
Rick elbows him. “Shut up and sit before you scare the baby.”
Baby Caleb squeals, smacking his hands on the tray of his highchair, and that’s it. The men melt, gathering around him, cooing and smiling, playing peekaboo like they’re competing for the best uncle award.
“Well, look at you,” Wade says, tapping the baby’s belly. “You sleep good for Mama? Gonna help me feed the horseslater?”
Baby Caleb shrieks and kicks his feet, recognizing the word horse from his favorite picture book.
Caleb leans down to peer at him more closely. “His teeth are so small, Joelle.”
“I know,” I laugh.
“He’s got a strong grip,” Rick says as the baby latches onto his finger. “Kid could hold reins already.”
I glance around the table at these big, rugged men taking turns to entertain my son, happy that he’ll never be short of men to show him how to grow up and be good. He won’t have to wonder what love looks like. He’ll see it every day.
I feared awkwardness, discomfort, and uncertainty, worried that a baby would cramp Wade and Caleb’s lifestyle. Instead, it feels like the ranch had been waiting for this missing piece to fall into place.
