He walks over to where the dog is sitting proudly with half of Reid’s sandwich sticking out of his mouth, looking like he just pulled off the greatest heist of all time.
“Rover, drop it,” Clint orders, but the dog just looks up at him with the biggest, most innocent puppy eyes ever.
And then, to top it off, he licks his lips, genuinely proud of himself.
Reid is laughing. “You know, Sawyer, I think your dog’s got a future as a burglar.”
“Not funny, man,” Sawyer mutters, though he’s clearly trying not to laugh as he bends down to retrieve what’s left of the sandwich.
Rover, unfazed by the entire situation, trots away, tail wagging happily.
“That’s it,” Reid announces, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’m officially calling him my dog now.”
“You’re welcome to him,” Sawyer shoots back, full of affection for the little troublemaker.
I chuckle. “So, do we get a sorry for the stolen sandwich, or…?”
Rover, sensing an opening, trots back toward me and drops the sandwich wrapper at my feet like a gift.
“Well, now I’m just impressed,” I say, grinning as I pick it up. “You’ve got to admit, the little guy’s got style.”
Charlie runs over to me with his arms full of stuffed animals. “Mom, can these go in my new room?”
“Of course, baby,” I say, crouching down to help him gather the ones that keep slipping out of his arms. “You can put them wherever you want.”
He beams at me like I just gave him the world.
“This is my favorite house ever,” he declares.
My throat gets a little tight, the way it does when I’m dangerously close to crying over something small but beautiful.
“Yeah,” I manage, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Mine too.”
By the time we get the last box inside, I’m sweaty, dusty, and weirdly happy about it. The ranch house already feels alive in a way that my grandfather’s house never did.
High Ridge Ranch is full of laughter, movement, and love.
It’s home.
Clint straightens up from where he’s been stacking the last boxes in the corner, hands on his hips. “That’s the last of it.”
“Finally,” Reid groans, collapsing onto the couch. “I thought we were gonna have to call in backup.”
“You mean Violet and Alice?” I tease, grinning as I hand him a bottle of water. “Because I’d pay good money to watchViolet tell you, boys, how to properly carry boxes without complaining.”
Sawyer laughs. “She’d have us sorting them by weight.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say, shaking my head. “And she’d still look fabulous doing it.”
We all laugh, and I just take it in. The sound of it. The warmth.
Charlie humming to himself on the floor, stacking his dinosaurs in some kind of epic prehistoric battle. Reid lounging happily. Sawyer fussing with the curtains, pretending not to care that he’s fussing. Clint watching me with that quiet, intense expression that always makes my stomach flip.
It hits me then. This isn’t temporary anymore.
This is real.
And I can’t think of anything better.
