The three of us grin, but Lincoln looks away. I don’t miss the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, though.
Jasper raises his bottle. “Welcome to ranch life.”
Her smile blooms, slow and sure, and suddenly the entire house feels warmer.
Yeah… she fits here.
Better than I thought she would.
Better than any of us may be ready for.
Chapter eleven
Abigail
Dinnersettleswarminmy stomach as Lincoln walks beside me like he’s been drafted into the service. His shoulders tight, jaw working, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. But, he’s doing it. And I’m almost positive it’s because Lawson told him to.
It’s been obvious since the moment I walked in. He’s trying to keep as much distance from me as possible. I don’t know why, and it’s not my place to ask. We all have a past. Every person’s affecting them in different ways, that much I know for certain. So I don’t prod. Instead, I’m just following his lead.
As he walks us through the spacious living room first, his voice low and steady, like his older brothers’, he gestures to the stone fireplace dominating the main wall. “We kept the mantle from the old farmhouse,” he says. “Dad carved it with our grandpa when he was nineteen. Mom refused to let us start over without it.”
The room is warm and masculine. Like the embodiment of this house. Just from what I’ve seen so far, I can tell everything is a blend of new and old. Wide-plank floors. Heavy beamsoverhead. New appliances. A well-used dining room table. Worn leather furniture that looks like it’s been through decades of stories and nights spent in.
Lincoln walks a little ahead of me down the hall, but every once in a while, he glances back like he’s checking to make sure I haven’t run off with the others.
“So,” I say softly. “Did Lawson assign you the role of tour guide, or did you volunteer to show me around out of the kindness of your heart?”
Lincoln snorts, and it’s the first real crack in his armor. “Yeah, kindness. That’s totally my thing.”
“Really?” I ask with a raised brow. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re practically a giant ball of sunshine.”
That earns me a ghost of a smile before he notices and schools his face again. “Needed someone responsible to show you around, is all.”
“Meaning someone who wouldn’t flirt with me?”
“Meaning someone who wouldn’t flirt with you,” he repeats, but the edge of humor in his voice tells me he’s full of shit.
Grinning to myself, I pretend not to notice the way the tips of his ears pink. He shows me the small den, the office Lawson and he share when they’re doing ranch paperwork and don’t want to go back out to the office over the barn, and the mudroom covered in pegs of jackets and a variety of hats, and then the pantry that smells like spices, flour, and all the makings of a delicious meal. Everything in this house feels lived in, curated, loved. Like the four of them carved pieces of their past into the bones of this new place to make it all theirs.
Lincoln gestures to another doorway. “Guest bathroom. There’s another upstairs, but this one’s the closest if you ever need it.”
I glance inside. The bathroom is spotless. Much like the one in the guesthouse, white shiplap covers the wall, contrasting off ofblack steel fixtures and the soft amber lighting. “You guys keep your bathrooms cleaner than most hotels,” I say.
Lincoln huffs a laugh. “Beau’s a clean freak. Might drive the rest of us insane most days, but it tends to work in our favor.”
“Ahhhh. So he’s the reason this house doesn’t look like a frat-boy den?”
“Pretty much,” he says as he side-eyes me. “Well, that and Mama didn’t raise us to be a bunch of slobs.”
That makes me smile. “Where are your parents? Yours and Lawson’s, I mean. You inherited this ranch from them, right?”
“We did. They, Chris and Billie, are their names, they wanted to retire a few years ago, and knew Law and I were ready to take over, despite our age. Especially with the help of Jas and Beau. Told us it was time to tear down the old farmhouse and build something better. So we did. They have a small home, kind of like yours, on the other side of the ranch, but spend most of their time traveling now. They should be home in a couple of weeks, but honestly, who even knows anymore. Every time they plan on coming back they find somewhere else to go. Not that any of us mind. They’ve worked hard and deserve to have some fun.”
His smile beams as he talks about his parents, and it takes up the entirety of his face. And despite the war he’s raging with himself, the sight of him smiling so wide is… well, he’s beautiful.
Dressed in a cream-colored Henley and dark blue jeans, he looks too good to be true. The shirt clings to shoulders that, despite being the ranch lawyer, look like they’re the result of anything but a casual gym visit. And when he pushes his hand through his light brown hair, the muscle in his forearm flexes in a way that has absolutely no right being so distracting. His beard is a shade darker than his hair, framing a jaw that I justknowcould cut marble, and a mouth that’s far too expressive for someone who tries, and often fails, to act so controlled.
But it’s his eyes that might be my undoing. Bright green. Striking, sharp, almost startling every time they land on me. Like the greenest forest after an afternoon of rain. They remind me of life. Something I’m so desperately trying to cling to.
