He smiles. “Now,” he says, brushing his thumb along the slope of my jaw, “we get dressed. Head over to the main house. And figure out what the hell someone thought they were doin’ on our ranch.”
Our.
The word burrows deep in my chest before reality snaps back in.
Lincoln.
Jasper.
Beau.
My stomach tightens.
They’re going to know. Of course they are. These men miss nothing. Not the way I move, not the way I look at them, not the way that something haschangedinside of me. And it’s not that I regret what happened with Lawson. God, I really don’t. But worry curls sharp and fast anyway.
Because I feel something for them too.
And what if this ruins that?
What if they look at me differently this morning, like I chose between them? Like I took something that was never meant to be mine? What if I’ve been selfish without meaning to be?
Lawson’s hand stills against my jaw. His eyes sharpen, not with anger or jealousy but with understanding so precise it makes my throat ache. “Hey. It’s not about the break-in anymore, is it?”
I swallow but can’t bring myself to answer.
He exhales softly. “You’re worried about the boys.”
Of course, he knows.
“I don’t want this to mess things up,” I admit. “With them. With… us. Any of it.”
Lawson brushes away a strand of hair from my face that didn’t make it into my bun. “It won’t.”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “You can’t promise that.”
“Trust me, I can,” he says without hesitation. “They’re not gonna be mad. Not at you. Not at me. And they’re damn sure not gonna look at you any different than they were last night. Than they have been since you got here.”
His thumb traces a slow, grounding line along my jaw again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Abigail. You didn’t ruin a damn thing.” My body begins to relax. “They care about you. All of ‘em. Same as I do. And whatever this turns into, we’ll—we’ll handle it. Together.”
He gives me a small but sure smile. “Now come on. Let’s get you dressed before they start thinkin’ I’ve lost my damn mind keepin’ you to myself this long.”
I laugh softly, nerves easing just enough to breathe again. As we turn toward the bedroom, cups of coffee now in hand, the worry doesn’t disappear. But it doesn’t own me anymore, either.
Chapter thirty
Lincoln
Thesun’swellonits way in the sky when I wrap both hands around a mug of coffee and lean back against the kitchen counter, back a little sore from too many hours on my feet and not enough sleep. Jasper is sprawled at the table in sweats and an old rodeo T-shirt, black hair a mess, baseball cap abandoned for the morning. Beau stands at the counter, shirtless under an open hoodie, pouring coffee like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
“Tell me again why we didn’t just burn the damn place down and call it a night,” Beau mutters before taking a long sip from his mug.
“Well, one, it’s part of the building we keep all of our animals in,” I say dryly. “And two, because arson usually tends to complicate things. Plus, nothing was actually missing or broken. They just tossed the place.”
Jasper snorts. “They. We know whotheyis. Those fucking Coates brothers.”
Their name lands heavy in the room.
I take a slow sip, jaw tightening. The offices upstairs were a fucking disaster—drawers yanked out, papers scattered, desks overturned—but nothing was taken. No ledgers. No contracts. Not even some cash we keep in a small safe for random shit.
