She giggles, and the sound does something to my heart. Makes that tightness worse. It makes me want to hear it again.
"Which is it?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Neither. Just six fucked-up guys who got lucky enough to find a man who gave a shit about us." I pick up my own coffee. "Franksaved all of us. Gave us a home when we had nothing. Now we're trying to honor that by making the ranch work."
"That's..." Lily's expression softens. "That's really beautiful."
"Don't tell my brothers I said any of that." I finish my coffee. "I have a reputation to maintain. They'll never let me live it down."
She smiles again, and I'm struck by how much younger she looks when she's not exhausted and afraid. She can't be more than mid-twenties, but she carries herself like someone much older. Someone who's seen too much, survived too much.
"So," I say, setting down my mug. "You want to meet Sarah today? See if we can get you that job?"
Lily looks at Rosie, who's happily demolishing the last of her eggs, then back at me.
"Yeah," she smiles. "I'd like that."
Chapter 5 - Lily
Why am I smiling?
Why am I trusting him?
I watch Mason clear the breakfast plates, and I can't shake the nagging voice in my head telling me this is all too good to be true. Men don't just help women out of the goodness of their hearts. There's always an angle. Always something they want in return.
That's the lesson I learned from every man I've ever known. My mother's string of boyfriends who looked at me a certain way once I hit puberty. My bosses who offered me extra shifts and better pay in exchange for "certain favors." Rosie's father who fucked me, got me pregnant, and disappeared the second I told him about the baby.
Mason was staring at me when I was wearing nothing but Sierra's robe. I saw the way his eyes dropped to my chest, how they traced the curve of my breasts through the thin fabric. Men always notice my tits first. Always. It's like they can't help themselves.
But Mason didn't do anything. Didn't make a comment about my body. Didn't suggest I could "work off" my debt to him. Didn't try to corner me or touch me or make any kind of move at all. He just apologized for scaring me and went back to cooking breakfast.
That doesn't make sense. Men who look at women the way Mason looked at me don't just stop there. They push. They test boundaries. They take what they want because they think women owe them something.
Except Mason hasn't.
And that's fucking with my head. Fucking with my body too, because I'm already soaked. The second I saw him in those jeans that hug his ass, that henley stretched across his broad chest, the way he looked at me, my body decided to betray me completely. My panties are damp, my nipples are hard, and there's an ache between my legs that I haven't felt in three years.
I hate it. Hate that my body is responding to a man I barely know. Hate that I'm apparently so desperate for attention that a little kindness and some flexing muscles are enough to get me wet.
I ignore it. I have to. This is about survival, not sex. This is about getting a job, finding stability, building a life for Rosie. Not about fantasizing what Mason's rough hands would feel like on my skin or whether that deep voice would sound different when he's buried inside me.
"Sarah doesn't open the saloon until noon," Mason says, interrupting my spiral of self-recrimination. "But we can head over after that. If you want, I could show you around the ranch first. Rosie might like to see the horses up close."
Horses. Rosie loves animals. She goes crazy every time we pass a dog on the street, squealing and pointing and begging to pet them. But horses are big. Dangerous.
"Are they safe?" I ask, my hand moving to Rosie's shoulder. "For kids, I mean?"
"They're well-trained," Mason assures me. "Been around kids before. Emma, Tucker's daughter, is seven and spends half her time in the stables. The horses are used to little ones."
Tucker. Another one of the six owners. I'm keeping track: Mason, Wade, Tucker. Three down, three to go.
"Horsies!" Rosie's eyes light up. She's been mostly quiet during breakfast, focused on her eggs, but now she's bouncing in her chair. "Mama, horsies!"
How can I say no to that face?
"Okay," I hear myself agree. "We can see the horses."
Mason's expression softens, something that might be pleasure crossing his features. "Good. Let me just text the guys, let them know we'll be out there."
