I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat steady against my ear, and felt something settle deep in my chest. This—us, together, learning each other, building something real—this was what I wanted. Not just for now, but for always.
“Hey Dante?”
“Yeah?”
I took a deep breath. “I… I love you.”
He didn’t even hesitate. “I love you too, Nick.” He pulled me tight against him, his fingers digging into my skin. “More than anything.”
Chapter 25
Dante
Ididn’t know it was possible to feel so light and content and happy at the same time. A month ago, I might’ve blamed my good mood on the fresh air or the slower pace of life in Montana. But now that Nick had said those three little words to me that made my heart race, I knew he was theentirereason my life had become so wonderful.
Just being near him as we walked the fence line felt like a dream come true. I watched him check a post, his hands moving with the easy confidence of someone who’d been doing this his whole life. The afternoon sun caught in his hair, turning it golden where it poked out from under his cowboy hat, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. We were too exposed out here, too visible to any ranch hand who might happen to look our way. But I was quickly caring less and less about that sort of thing.
“This new section’s holding up well,” Nick said, giving the wire a testing tug. “Angelo did a good job on this one.”
“That’s good,” I said, though I barely registered his words. I was too busy watching the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, remembering what those shoulders looked like bare,remembering the taste of his skin. Remembering how it felt to be inside him.
He glanced over at me, and something in my expression must have given me away because his eyes darkened. “You’re not paying attention to the fence at all, are you?”
“Not even a little bit,” I admitted.
A smile tugged at his lips. “We have work to do, Dante.”
“I know.” I moved closer, keeping my voice low even though there was no one around to hear us. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the view while I work.”
He shook his head, but he was grinning now. “You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
“I do,” he said simply, and the easy way he said it—like it was just a fact, like loving me was as natural as breathing—made my heart flutter. So much for that tough mob son I’d left back in Newark.
But before I could respond, movement in the distance caught my eye. A vehicle was coming up the long drive toward the main house, kicking up dust behind it. I squinted against the sun, trying to make out what kind of car it was.
“You expecting anyone?” Nick asked, following my gaze.
“No.” I watched the vehicle get closer, tension creeping into my shoulders out of habit. Back in Jersey, unexpected visitors were rarely good news. But I forced myself to relax. This was Montana. People dropped by unannounced all the time out here. It was probably just another neighbor stopping by to chat or asking to borrow equipment.
“Might be Evelyn,” Nick suggested. “Or one of the Nelsons. The dinner went well with them. Maybe we’re actually friends with people now.”
“Maybe.” But something felt off. The vehicle was moving too fast, too purposeful. And as it got closer, I realized it wasn’t apickup truck like most of the locals drove. It was a large SUV, dark and official-looking and far too clean to be from a ranch.
“That’s not a neighbor,” I said quietly.
Nick’s expression shifted, concern replacing his earlier warmth. “You think it’s one of your father’s people?”
“I don’t know.” My mind raced through possibilities. Angelo would have told me if someone from the family was coming. And my father always sent word before sending anyone to check on me. He wouldn’t show up unannounced. This felt different.Wrong.
The sedan pulled up to the main house and stopped. A man got out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing slacks and a button-down shirt that looked out of place against the rural backdrop. Even from this distance, I could see the bulge of a shoulder holster under his jacket.
“Shit,” I breathed.
“What?” Nick moved closer to me, his hand instinctively reaching for mine before he caught himself. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know, but he’s armed.” I started walking toward the house, my protective instincts kicking in. If this was trouble, I needed to get between it and Nick’s family, and my gun was in our bedroom nightstand. “Stay here.”
