Caleb catches her effortlessly.
I forget how to breathe.
“Daddy is so good at this,” Sadie whispers in Caleb’s arms, clutching his shirt like she’s watching the Super Bowl.
Caleb chuckles, low and warm, and the sound does something to me. It slides heat down my spine.
Okay. No. No feelings. I am here for moral support, baked goods, and to protect the cornbread.
Not to ogle the men.
Except…
Well.
When a man looks like Boone and concentrates like that, broad shoulders tense, one hip cocked forward, veins flexing down his forearm, it’s honestly rudenotto ogle a little.
And Caleb?
Caleb holding a kid is a biological weapon. He’s not even trying. Just… balanced, strong, gentle. His flannel sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair falling into his eyes, smiling at Sadie like she’s his whole universe.
And then there’s Silas.
Silas, who sees everything I’m thinking the second it crosses my mind.
He sidles up behind me, leaning down so his breath brushes my ear.
“You’re drooling,” he murmurs.
“I am not.”
He hums, amused. “Okay, but you were definitely making your thinking about sin face, which feels adjacent.”
“I do not have a face like that.”
“You absolutely do,” he says calmly. “It’s very specific. Very expressive. Deeply incriminating.”
“I… I don’t have a thirsty face!”
“You absolutely do,” he says. “It’s adorable.”
I glare at him.
He grins, unbothered, eyes glinting wickedly.
“Besides,” he adds, low and teasing, “it’s only fair you get a little treat. You’ve earned it. Look at this lineup. Ranch defensive line. Dad squad. Former soldier turned stoic cowboy. Reformed fuckboy with excellent hair. You’re welcome.”
I swat him.
He winks.
“Ladies and gentlemen, places!” Arlo calls out. “Next round is beginning.”
A cheer erupts across the field.
Sadie wiggles out of Caleb’s arms and grabs my hand. “Come on, Miss Delaney! We have to cheer!”
She tugs me toward Silas and Jesse, who are now preparing for their turn.
