“You’d think.” Dylan shrugs. “Except she has a thing for the bad boys who treat her like shit and never commit.” Dylan turns his attention back on me, something playful dancing in his eyes. “What about you, Brooks? What kind of guy do you go for?” His voice dips low, that teasing edge curling into something more, making my pulse thud in my ears. My throat goes dry, my mind dragging itself straight back to the gutter, remembering exactly how his hands felt on me, how his mouth?—
“I’m not sure I have a type. But I know one thing…”
“What’s that?” he asks, like he already knows my next words will be cutting.
I take his beer from his hand, enjoy a slow sip before meeting his gaze, let my words land between us like a challenge. “Definitely not former pro athletes pretending to be ranchers.”
Dylan lets out a rough laugh, shaking his head like I drive him insane, but I don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “Who said anything about pretending? I didn’t hear you complaining yesterday. In fact,” he continues, rubbing his beard like he’s lost in thought, “I seem to remember you quite liked?—”
“Don’t you dare go there when we’re surrounded by your family.”
He flashes me a wicked grin. “I’ll save it for later, then.”
And just like that, my entire body is humming. Whatever he means by later, it can’t come soon enough.
The lanterns cast the perfect glow of light over the table as we sit down to eat. Madison rushes in from the water and wrapsherself in a towel, hair still wet, legs swinging as she takes the seat beside me and eyes the pile of burgers with a gleeful smile.
Madison fills her plate with a burger and then heaps of vegetables as Mama reminds her she wants to be big and strong like her boys. I do the same, eating quietly as talk zigzags from football to childhood memories to Jake and Harper setting a date for their wedding. I pretend not to notice Mad slipping the occasional bite of food to Buck, lying patiently by her feet.
“Damn,” Chase groans, rubbing his belly and reaching for another burger. “I wish the nutritionists would let me eat like this every night.”
Jake huffs a laugh. “Yeah. It’s almost like they want your arteries clear for blood flow or something.”
“I like my arteries clogged with beef and cheese, thank you very much.”
“Gross.” Mia laughs, rubbing her flat stomach. “Now I wish I hadn’t eaten so much.”
Across the table, Harper slips her hand into Jake’s. “If we’re making wishes, I wish we could get married by this lake. It’s so pretty.”
Jake leans forward and kisses Harper’s cheek. “Why don’t we then?”
“Really?” She grins.
“Why not? We’ve hated all the venues we’ve looked at so far.”
Harper pulls a pained face. “That one by the harbor was more like a funeral home.”
“Dude!” Chase jumps in, slapping a hand on Jake’s back. “That sounded way too casual for a proposal.”
“I already proposed, and she already said yes,” Jake replies. “A wedding is just a party, right? Why not have it in one of our favorite places on earth?”
Serena punches Chase playfully. “Leave them alone. Just because you don’t have a romantic bone in your body. I think this would be the perfect spot for a wedding.”
Harper stares across the lake, her eyes shining with the reflection of the water and something softer. “Buck would have his head in the wedding cake before we even said the vows.” She turns to Madison. “Think you could keep him in line for us, Mad?”
My daughter’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “I can do that!”
Part of me wants to protest—to say we might not be here, that nothing about the future is certain. But the words don’t come and I just find myself mouthing a “thank you” to Harper. Because maybe for the first time in a long time I don’t want to protest. Maybe there’s something terrifying but beautiful about being pulled in by the gravity of this family, like I’m already part of it, even if I never meant to be.
“Seeing as we’re making wishes,” Mama says, her voice gentle but steady, “I’m going to tell you mine. I wish you’ll always feel that Oakwood Ranch is your home. That you’ll always have somewhere to come back to.”
I don’t miss the way she says it—not just to her sons, but to Harper. To me. To Madison. The words settle in my chest like an ache I didn’t know was there. A hope I haven’t dared to name.
“And,” she continues, “I’ve decided I’m going to build three houses on the opposite side of the lake.”
All three Sullivan boys splutter a, “What?”
“Who for?” Jake asks.
