“Well, you’re certainly making it weird.”
His grin only deepens. “You’ll thank me when you taste the difference.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you offer lessons to all the new girls in town, or am I just lucky?”
“Only the ones who burn dessert on purpose just to get my attention.”
I snicker as he offers me the perfectly toasted marshmallow, and I have to admit—it does taste better.
“You really are charming, aren’t you?” I say with a sigh. “How does someone so sweet have a brother likehim?” I ask, glancing back at Trouble—his arm slung around a cute redhead with a case of the giggles.
"Trouble? He's not as bad as you think. Maybe a little rough around the edges, more cocky than he should be—but that's a bull rider for ya."
The flickering flames rise higher in the distance just as the last section of the roof caves in. But there's another heat, an invasive one I start to feel that isn’t from the fire. My skin prickles under the intensity of his stare—Trouble’s. He should be focused on the woman twirling her hair at his side, not glaring at me, or whatever he’s doing.
"So you're saying he doesn't have a different girl in his bed every night? That he doesn’t think he's God's gift to the world?"
His eyes glint like he’s telling a secret as he leans in. "Those things might be true," he shrugs. "But he's also got this thing in his chest he has no idea is there. It's crazy because that heart of his probably takes up all the room in there. He'd do anything for any of us."
Something about his words stirs a flicker of curiosity in me. I study Trouble, wondering how that could possibly be true.
"Okay, soyou’reclearly living up to your nickname,” I say with a smirk, then glance over at Trouble again, who’s still entertaining the redhead like it’s his job. “And he’s definitely earned his. But now I’ve gotta know—what’s the deal with the rest of the nicknames?”
"Granddaddy was a man of few words, but when he spoke, you listened," Charming murmurs. "He called my oldest brother Danger." He nods toward Danger leaning against a pickup truck. "Always armed, always on guard. He's got this primal instinct—protect first, question later. But ever since he became a dad, there's a gentleness to him that never used to be there."
I let the information settle, watching Danger, and I feel the weight of his name. His presence alone demands respect and caution. It’s not just a nickname for him either—he owns it, almost like he’s a walking warning sign.
"And Rogue, that idiot over there." Charming's voice pulls me back from my thoughts, the tease in his tone almost affectionate. "Has his own way of doing things. More wild than the rest of us but makes it work."
"Your grandad is a genius," I say, watching Rogue teach some kind of dance move to a few others.
"He was," Charming agrees. "And now you know about me and my brothers. Tell me why it's taken you so long to come visit your brother. He's practically part of our family, and we haven't ever seen you around."
"I always meant to," I confess, fingers tracing the ridges of the tree stump beneath me. "But my daddy never approved of me leaving for the city. It's just been easier to stay busy in Chicago and not have to deal with it."
"Runnin' don't ever do nothin'," he drawls, the southern twang wrapping around the words like the smoke above us. "Those things catch up to us whether we stay or go."
"Guess so," I nod just as my phone buzzes again. I yank it out, pressing the silent button with more force than necessary. The screen goes dark, swallowing Harrison's name back into its depths.
"Let me guess," he says, "that's Chicago calling?"
I exhale as I concede. "Yeah," I say, the words slipping out with an ease that surprises me. "And I wish it would stop. Not in the mood to deal with him tonight."
"If that's your man, you should wanna talk to him in any mood."
"He's no longer my man," I say too quickly. "Not since the incident with his assistant."
Charming's face softens, something flickering behind those big eyes—understanding, maybe. And why am I even telling him this? I hardly know him, yet here I am, spilling all my dark secrets like he's my sixth grade diary. There's a warmth about him, though, an inviting glow that almost makes me feel like I can trust him.
He grabs my empty bottle and tosses mine along with his into the fire. "Come on, let's get another," he says, reaching out a hand to help me up.
"And about what you were saying..." His voice carries over as we reach the bed of the truck. "If that's the case, Chicago better stay in Chicago."
"Who better stay in Chicago?" The drawl is unmistakable—Trouble, the man himself. A match stick perches between his lips.
Charming doesn't hesitate. "Her ex," he declares with a casual flick of his wrist, as if tossing out something distasteful, "cheated on her."
Trouble's gaze shifts to me, searching, like he’s trying to figure out my past. A flush rises in my cheeks—not from the fire but from the sudden exposure. It's one thing to open up to Charming and his easy smile, quite another to have that exposed to Trouble, who I can’t stand.
