“Damngoats,”Bryce muttered. “Tristan! Your goats are out again.”
Tristan barreled through the back door, a half-eaten cinnamon roll in his hand.
“Well, damn,” he said, as the black goat took one look at him and headed off into the dark.
The moment between them had been shattered, and Tom had a drive ahead of him before he could crash.
“I’d better get going,” he said, and made his way toward the steps.
“Night, Tom.” Something in Bryce’s voice, a slight, unaccustomed roughness, sent a shiver down his spine.
He glanced back to find Bryce still watching him. “Night,” he said.
His boots stirred little clouds of dry dirt as he headed toward his car, and he didn’t glance behind him. But he felt Bryce’s gaze following him into the dark. Warm, steady, and with a tendril of heatthat Tom felt deep in his gut.
Chapter Thirteen
BRYCE
Both Matt and Jesse looked more relaxed over breakfast than they had lately. Bryce had the feeling that wouldn’t last long, because Matt had declared his intention to meet the Council’s head of security himself later that morning.
“Mind if I’m there too?” Bryce asked. “That way I can pick up any discrepancies between what Tom’s said and what this guy’s asking.”
“I’m counting on it,” Matt said. His voice was calm, but his eyes found Bryce’s with quick, quiet trust. That flash of reliance, rarely spoken aloud, settled warm and steady in his chest.
He turned his attention back to his plate, anticipation bubbling inside him at the prospect of seeing Tom again. If Tomhadpulled away before, that had vanished last night. Bryce had been half asleep, and his question about Tom coming back had slipped out without any intention on his part. Evenhe’dheard the longing in his voice.
And Tom’s question in return hadn’t been whether Bryce wanted him to come back to the ranch, but whether Bryce wantedhim. At least, that was the way it had sounded to Bryce.
If it hadn’t been for that damn goat, who knew? Maybe they’d have ended up in bed. Or maybe he’d have passed out in the porch chair with Tom watching him snore.
Tom arrived just after lunch, and when Bryce opened the door, something jolted through him at Tom’s smile. That connection was still there, still sparking. His wolf surged in welcome, so enthusiastic it took Bryce by surprise.
Tom introduced him and Matt to Duane Jaxom, head of the Council’s security detail. Bryce had expected someone in a suit with dark glasses and an earpiece, but this guy looked military rather than Secret Service, with his brush cut, combat boots and fatigues. The look in his eyes suggested he’d rather enforce than protect.
At Jax’s side, Tom was once again in dress pants, and his shirt today was light blue with a soft sheen that reminded Bryce of Jesse’s coat. But it wasn’t the clothes that got him, though yeah, they fit him just right. It was the way Tom moved—aware, centered, calm even in the presence of a man like Jax who practically bristled with every step he took.
As the four of them sat at the kitchen table, Bryce reluctantly had to admit that Jax knew what he was talking about. He wasn’t just muscle. There was calculation behind every move, a shrewdness in those cold eyes, and the way he instantly oriented the ranch on a satellite printout and spotted the weak spots told Bryce this was far from the first time he’d planned for trouble on someone else’s territory. Though, when he ran a finger over the page, his nails were bitten short. A nervous habit that didn’t fit with the rest of him.
“I’ll station men at each of these points around the property,” Jax said. “There’ll be six men inside the house, and we’ll conduct a full sweep before the councilors arrive.”
“You can have two men in the room with the councilors and three outside the house,” Matt said calmly. “One at the rear, one at the front, and one covering the mudroom door.”
Jax raised his head, nostrils flaring. “The safety of the councilors is my responsibility. They’re not stepping foot on your land unless I can guarantee it.”
It was the challenge that Bryce had been waiting for since he’d laid eyes on Jax.
Matt leaned back in his chair, hands folded in front of him, his smile faint but steady. “That’s just fine with me,” he said. “You might want to check with your councilors what they think about it, though.”
Bryce watched the moment stretch—Jax coiled and ready to snap, and Matt... not. Not anymore. Twelve years ago, this would’ve gone differently. Back in Cheyenne, Matt would’ve taken that comment as a gauntlet thrown and responded in kind. Not out of ego—well, notonlyego—but out of something restless and young and too damn sure of his own dominance.
This Matt? He didn’t rise to any bait. He stayed calm, steady, and in control. It had cost him almost everything to learn this level of restraint, but it was what made him a real alpha, aleaderrather than someone throwing his weight around.
Bryce sat back and let the tension stretch, knowing nothing would move Matt once his mind was set. And yeah, maybe he was a little proud of that.
TOM
Jax’s shoulders were tight and temper sparked in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being questioned or told no.
