I nodded, not trusting my voice. His hand slid to the back of my neck, guiding me down to meet him. This time, when our lips met, it wasn't the explosive rush of the first kiss. This was slower, deeper, more deliberate—like he was learning the shape of my mouth, the taste of me. His other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close until we were pressed together, his body warm and solid against mine.
I let my hands rest tentatively on his hips, still afraid of holding too tight, of hurting him without meaning to. Dan made a small sound of encouragement against my lips, and I grew bolder, sliding my arms fully around him, feeling the surprising strength in his compact frame.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the sky had darkened further. The first stars were appearing, tiny pinpricks of light in the deepening blue above us. Dan stayed close, his forehead resting against my chest, his breath warm through my shirt.
"I'm coming to talk to your mother tomorrow," he murmured against me.
My body tensed instinctively. "You don't have to do that."
Dan leaned back to look up at me, his expression set with that stubborn determination I was coming to recognize. "Yes, I do. This isn't something I want to hide, Harlow. And I won't have you lying to your family or feeling like you're doing something wrong by being with me."
"She won't like it," I warned, imagining Ma's tight-lipped disapproval, the disappointment in her eyes.
"Probably not," Dan agreed with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I'm not asking for her permission, Harlow. I'm telling her my intentions. The only permission I need is yours."
The way he said it made something warm settle in my stomach, a feeling of rightness I couldn't explain. No one had ever put what I wanted first like that before. No one had ever stood up to Ma for me, either.
"What will you tell her?" I asked, already picturing the storm that would follow.
"The truth," he said simply. "That I care about you. That I believe you care about me. That we're both adults who get to decide what that means for ourselves."
He made it sound so straightforward, though we both knew it wouldn't be. But I found myself believing that maybe, just maybe, we could weather whatever came next—together.
The night air had cooled considerably, a gentle reminder that I needed to start heading back before too long. Dan seemed to read my thoughts, taking my hand once more as we began walking toward the main road where we would part ways—him to his truck parked down the lane, me back through the woods to the farm.
"I'll come by around lunchtime," he said as we walked. "Figure that gives us both the morning to prepare."
I was about to answer when movement caught my eye. A figure stepped out from behind a stand of trees ahead of us, blocking our path. My heart lurched into my throat before I recognized the familiar silhouette—tall and broad-shouldered like all us McKenzie men, but with that distinctive saunter that belonged to only one of my brothers.
Ransom.
He stood with his arms crossed, the fading light catching on the tattoos that covered his forearms. His eyes moved from my face down to where my hand was still joined with Dan's, then back up again, his expression unreadable in the growing darkness.
My body went rigid, grip tightening instinctively on Dan's hand. Beside me, I felt Dan straighten, squaring his shoulders, but he didn't let go of my hand. If anything, his hold became more secure, an anchor in the sudden storm of my panic.
"Well," Ransom drawled, his voice carrying easily in the quiet evening air, "isn't this interesting."
I couldn't tell from his tone if he was angry or amused or something else entirely. Ransom had always been the hardest of my brothers to read, keeping his true thoughts hidden behind layers of sarcasm and that deliberate don't-give-a-damn attitude he wore like armor.
But as he stood there, blocking our path home, all I could think was that my carefully constructed lie about checking fence lines had just crumbled into dust.
And tomorrow suddenly seemed very far away.
Chapter Ten
~ Daniel ~
I clutched the wildflowers in one hand, the picnic basket in the other, and tried to ignore how my heart was hammering against my ribs like it wanted to break free. The McKenzie farmhouse stood in the distance, white and imposing against the backdrop of rolling hills and timber.
I'd faced down armed suspects with less anxiety than I felt staring at that house, knowing what—and who—waited inside. But Harlow was worth it. Worth every second of the uncomfortable conversation ahead.
After our encounter with Ransom last night, there was no more hiding. No more stolen moments by the river or whispered conversations in alleyways behind Rosie's Bakery. The secret was out—or at least, part of the McKenzie family knew. And soon, the rest would, too.
I shifted the picnic basket to my other hand, wiping my palm against my jeans. The morning dew still clung to the grass, dampening my boots as I took that first step onto McKenzie property. My truck was parked just off the main road, deliberately visible. No sneaking around today. No more pretending.
Ransom's words from the night before echoed in my head. After the initial shock of finding Harlow and me hand-in-hand by the river, his reaction had surprised us both.
"About damn time," he'd said, the corner of his mouth lifting in what might have been a smile. "Wondered how long it'd take you two to figure it out."
