“On call.” Canyon gave a nod that was so reminiscent of Stone. He cocked his head toward his friend. “Legend and I were at a briefing about an hour away, so we headed over.”
The Metcalfe genes were strong. And gorgeous. It wasn’t just that they were blond and blue-eyed, but the thick air of masculinity and owning a scene they entered … Wow.
“I think,” Mrs. Clara said with a laugh, “this means you’ve only lacked meeting two of my children now. Right?”
Brighton shrugged. “I …” She’d met Brooke. Willow. Now Canyon. “I suppose so.”
“With Range there’s no loss there,” Canyon snarked.
“Canyon!” Mrs. Clara gave his arm a swat. “Range has really come into his own?—”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” She shook her head in mock annoyance. “And Leif has…well, he’s doing really well now that he’s met Iskra.”
“Marrying a woman with a kid grows a guy up real fast.” Canyon smirked and eyed her. Then Stone. Back to her. “You got any?”
“Kids?” Brighton balked. “No.”
“Stand down, Midas,” Stone growled, his hand on her shoulder firming.
Canyon chuckled and swiped a hand over his face as he looked at his brother who was a couple of inches taller. “So … how about you get us up to speed over some of those waffles you’re known for?”
“I’m not known for waffles, punk.”
“Yeah, well, keep perfecting those skills??—like tonight??—and you will be.”
Stone rolled his eyes. Motioned to the kitchen. “C’mon. Let’s get this going.”
The next morning after a shower, Stone considered himself in the fogged mirror. Had the same debate he’d always had about the fur lining his jaw. Three weeks ago when Mom showed up, he hadn’t been willing to shave.
“You never look bad, but I miss your soft skin.”
Scissors in hand, he began the process of clearing away the scruff. Had nothing to do with a pair of brown eyes and the way they looked at him. The lips that screwed up his thinking.
Last night, he’d gotten Griffin and Canyon updated. The ladies had gone to bed, and while Stone knew the security measures had been upgraded??—both by Rowe’s efforts and with the addition of Griffin and Canyon??—he hadn’t been able to sleep. Danger was breathing down their necks. The same people who shoved him out of office were coming for the woman he loved.
He paused, safety razor in hand. Water running. He did love her. And he’d be hanged if he let anyone touch her again. The price this time might be his life. Not just his career. Somehow, he didn’t care. As long as she was safe.
Maybe he should make some arrangements in case he was mortally wounded. He wanted her protected, taken care of.
He cleaned up, threaded on a shirt and jeans, then headed back into the living room. After pouring a cup of coffee, he saw Canyon and Griffin standing on the front porch. So, they hadn’t slept either. He joined them, steam spiraling off his mug.
“Going to walk the property,” Griffin said as he left the porch.
That felt like a planned exfil, but Stone sipped his brew without comment.
Hands in his pockets, Canyon stared out at the predawn morning, the mountain covered in dew. “Give it to me.”
Stone glanced at him. “What?”
“You swore you’d never marry again.”
“Who said anything about marriage?”
“The way you couldn’t keep your eyes or hands off her last night said everything. The way you kept her close.” He side-eyed him. “The way you shaved.”
“Beard itched.”
