I don’t know how to respond to that because it doesn’t make any sense. None of how I’m feeling about this place makes sense. Or maybe… maybe it makes too much sense. Maybe this is what true belonging feels like.
“So,” Lawson says, watching Griffin practically melt beneath my hand, “think you’re ready for some dinner and to meet the last member of our four ring circus?”
Beau laughs. “He’ll be in a great mood. I haven’t seen him come down all day which means he’s exhausted. And hungry. And grumpy. He gets real grumpy when he’s hungry.”
Jasper scoffs. “He gets grumpy when he’s not hungry.”
“He gets grumpy when he breathes,” Beau adds.
Lawson tries and fails to hide his smile behind his hand. I’m still smiling when he asks, “So, you want to eat with us tonight? In the main house?” His voice is warm but careful. “Figured I still owe you the rest of the tour, and Beau and I are cooking.”
“We always cook,” Beau grumbles.
Jasper barks a laugh. “Thank God, or Linc and I might starve.
I glance toward the glowing windows of the main house despite no one being inside. Like a beacon calling me towardthe sound of a home. Laughter, clattering pans, people talking to one another around the dinner table. The sky above us is turning peach and lavender now, letting us know the workday is done. “I’d like that,” I say softly. “Dinner with all of you.”
Lawson just nods. “Good. Then let’s finish getting these horses settled, and we can head in.”
And like I did all day, I follow him willingly.
Not because I have to.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because, somehow, I feel like I’ve stepped into a life where I might get to stay.
Chapter ten
Beau
Thekitchensmellslikegarlic and cast iron, even though the stove’s now cold and the food is tucked inside the oven staying warm while we wait. It always smells like that, actually. To be honest, sometimes I’m surprised this entire house doesn’t permanently smell like steak and potatoes.
The four of us are spread out around the big reclaimed-wood table that Lawson, Lincoln, and their Dad, Chris, built years ago. Deep grooves run through the grain, darkened by years of elbows, beer bottles, and the occasional grease stain that just won’t scrub out no matter how hard Lawson tries. The overhead pendants cast warm circles across the surface, leaving the rest of the kitchen in a soft glow. It feels like the world outside, wrapping the space in something familiar. Something like home.
Jasper kicks his boots up on the rung of the empty chair next to him, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. Lawson leans back, ankles crossed, arms folded, as per usual. And Lincoln… well, Lincoln looks tense. His shoulders are tense, gaze fixed out the window toward the barn. He looks like he usually does, except… he doesn’t.
He looks almost antsy.
And for someone as settled as he is, it’s enough to make me pause.
Taking a sip of my beer, I ask, “So. Thoughts?”
Jasper huffs a laugh. “About what? The way you damn near tripped over your own feet trying to impress her all day? Or the fact that she looked at you like you’d hung the moon?”
Lawson nudges Jasper’s boot off the chair. “Knock it off.”
“I didn’t trip,” I mutter. “I stumbled with purpose.”
Lincoln snorts. It’s the first sound he’s made since the four of us walked in here.
Jasper points his beer bottle at him. “And what exactly are your thoughts about her, Captain Sourpuss?”
Lincoln’s jaw tics. “What about her?”
“There it is,” I say, unable to stop my grin.
Lawson’s smile is slow and knowing. His baby brother isn’t as aloof as he thinks he is. “You avoided her all day.”
