“Sorry we’re late,” Mason drawls. “Someone took forever pickin’ out the right shirt.”
“That someone was you,” Brookes deadpans.
“Damn right. We spend all day covered in grime andsweat. A cowboy has to look good at social functions.”
“We appreciate your effort,” Caleb says. My gaze flicks to Janey, whose jaw has fallen at the sight of the Fletchers.
“We heard somethin’ about cake and beer.” Brookes drops his hat onto the counter and swipes his hand through his messy curls. They’re so much like Caleb and Wade that it takes my breath away.
“There are crumbs left if you’re fast,” Caleb says, spooning in a huge mouthful and grinning.
“Don’t listen to him,” I say, lifting the cake dome. “There’s plenty left.”
Except neither man is looking at the cake. Both sets of hungry eyes are lasered onto Janey. She stiffens like she’s been caught doing something scandalous and sets her tea down with careful, exaggerated calm. Then, without moving her head, she darts me the sharpest look—a clear don’t you dare encourage whatever this is. I smile as I cut two large slices because I know a plot twist when I see one.
Mason’s already strolling closer, leaning one hip against the counter like it’s a bar in some dim saloon. “Ma’am,” he says to Janey, voice smooth as honeyed bourbon. “You always smell this good, or you put on somethin’ special for tonight?”
Brookes huffs a laugh. “Ignore him. He practices lines in the mirror.”
Mason elbows him. “At least I got lines.”
Janey’s face goes pink as the sunrise. “I don’t… smell like anything,” she mutters.
“It’s cake,” Eli interrupts with a grin. “You smell like cake.”
“Good enough to eat.” Mason’s tongue swipes over his top lip, and every man in the room shakes his head.
“You’ve got to watch that one,” Caleb advises. “His special power is getting women on their backs with their legs in the air.”
“Not in front of our son,” Wade says, closing the book. He lifts Little C, who tucks himself into his father’s shoulder, “Alright, partner,” he murmurs, “let’s get you to bed before this descends any further.”
Little C gives him a sleepy hum, oblivious, and snuggles deeper into him, and for a moment, everything around us fades. I watch Wade carry our son down the hallway, Caleb trailing close behind them, and a warm ache settles in my chest.
This strange, beautiful, unexpected life continues to take me by surprise.
Two men who love me. A child who is worshipped. A house that used to echo and now hums with family. Friends who feel like kin.
And enough chaos to keep it interesting.
And soon, a new chapter will begin.
***
The water is hot and fragrant; drawn the way I like it. The bubbles are soft, and lavender from my garden floats on the surface as candles flicker in the corner.
Caleb set it up. He always remembers the little things.
He appears with a glass of sweet tea. “Sugar for your strength,” he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as I sink into the water to relax. This is my time; a form of preparation for what’s to come.
Wade arrives when I’m done with a towel warmed on the radiator. He wraps it around me, brushing my hair back and murmuring, “Ready when you are, pretty girl.”
Tonight we’re embarking on something sacred.
My milk dried up weeks ago in preparation. The ache is gone, but sometimes I still feel the memory of the need and the intimacy from the way my cowboys once fed from me, and I miss it.
But tonight is about the future, so I’m happy to let go of the past.
***
