One of our other enforcers, Tomcat, was a former military pilot who was now a civilian contractor flying test aircraft for whoever could afford him. He always kept a close eye on things at the small, local airfield, and he’d noticed shipments coming in via unmarked planes with no recorded flight plan. After some digging, he discovered there were no records at all.
It was frustrating that things were moving slowly with that operation, so I appreciated the distraction I got from working with the Winslet family to get the orchard and farm ready for what I’d been assured was a fun event.
Sounded like a lot of noise and chaos to me, but their enthusiasm was a little infectious. Getting my hands dirty and being part of something straightforward and honest felt good. The physical labor grounded me, sweat dampening my T-shirt and streaking dust across my jeans as we moved from task to task.
Clara was a whirlwind, effortlessly juggling multiple responsibilities, laughter spilling from her lips as she teased her younger siblings. My gaze tracked her every movement, drawnto the graceful strength in her stance, the sway of her hips, and the fire that danced in her eyes whenever she challenged me.
Friday morning at dawn, I was back again, my bike rumbling down the gravel drive just as the horizon began to glow. I had already become familiar with the comforting rhythm of the place—the distant hum of tractors, and the warm scent of hay mixed with ripe apples. Later in the afternoon, laughter would echo around the property as the Winslet siblings bantered back and forth. It was an odd sensation, one I wasn’t accustomed to—this sense of belonging, a stability that ran deeper than just being part of something bigger than myself.
My childhood had been defined by restless wandering, my dad always chasing something just beyond our reach. Home was transient, never lasting long enough for me to plant roots. Being here, surrounded by Clara’s family, sparked something inside me that had been long dormant—a deep craving for permanence, roots, and the kind of quiet peace this farm radiated.
Activity around the orchard ramped up to a hectic pace. Vendors began arriving, their trucks and trailers filling the parking lot and spilling out onto the grass. Tents popped up, colorful awnings snapping in the breeze as crates of goods were unloaded and arranged. I found myself moving seamlessly alongside Clara, hauling boxes, securing tents, and following her directions with an ease that surprised me. King was the only person I’d ever given my blind obedience to. With anyone else, I questioned every order, every motive—though less so with my brothers.
However, when it came to Clara, every task felt effortless. She was efficient, her voice steady as she guided people around the chaos. Her movements were confident even as sweat dampened the collar of her T-shirt and wayward strands of her chestnuthair slipped from her braid and clung to the graceful curve of her neck.
The longer I spent working beside her, the deeper my possessiveness grew. Watching vendors interact with Clara only amplified that intensity. Most of them were familiar faces since they were local. But I hadn’t realized how well they knew her and her family, exchanging friendly banter and genuine laughter. It made the orchard feel even more like a home.
I wasn’t all that happy with the familiarity she had with some of the men, but I tried to keep my jealousy reined in. Then, just before lunchtime, a vendor had tension in my shoulders. A young guy whose eyes lingered a little too long on my woman, with a smile that was a little too appreciative.
He was tall and lean, dressed in jeans and a plaid button-down that seemed carefully selected to show off his physique—one clearly achieved in the gym rather than through manual labor. Despite the fact that he was about to spend the rest of the day out in the hot sun, working on a farm, his hair was carefully styled. His face had the kind of easy charm that came with confidence and youth. I caught the little bastard sidling closer to Clara more than once, leaning in a little too eagerly as he asked her questions about setup locations and logistics for his booth.
The second time he touched her arm, my patience snapped. I crossed the distance between us in a few long, purposeful strides, stepping close enough to Clara that my arm slid naturally around her waist, pulling her securely against my side. The vendor’s gaze snapped up, his startled eyes widening slightly when they clocked the tattoos covering my arms and peeking out from the collar of my shirt, then my vest. He swallowed hard before his gaze jumped up to meet my stony glare.
“There a problem here, boy?” My voice came out deceptively calm, though the hard edge beneath it was unmistakable.
His brow puckered, and his eyes sparked with irritation at my use of the word “boy.” But it quickly dissipated at the dark warning in my eyes as I stared him down.
Clara stiffened slightly against me, a faint, indignant huff escaping her, but I felt the subtle tremor that ran through her body, betraying the rush of heat I’d stirred inside her. The vendor swallowed hard again, glancing quickly between Clara and me before taking a half-step back and lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Um. No. Everything’s good, man.” He forced a nervous laugh. “I was just, uh, checking in about my spot.”
“Right,” I drawled slowly, my gaze still locked firmly on his. “Looks like you got your answers, so maybe it’s time you moved along. Anything else comes up, ask someone other than my woman for help.”
His eyes darted to Clara again, and I saw the exact moment he realized she hadn’t pulled away from my hold. She might’ve rolled her eyes at my caveman move, but her cheeks had flushed deep pink, and her lips parted softly with barely concealed desire. He cleared his throat, took another step back, and nodded quickly.
“Sure thing. I’ll go check on my booth,” he mumbled, practically tripping over himself in his haste to retreat.
Clara turned toward me as soon as the vendor was out of earshot, her eyes flashing with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Really, Ronan? That was completely unnecessary.”
I dipped my head slightly, bringing my mouth close enough to her ear that my breath brushed against her skin, watching goose bumps trail down the delicate slope of her neck. “Not from where I was standing, baby. Seemed entirely necessary to me.”
She huffed quietly, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward, betraying her attempt at annoyance. “He was harmless.”
“Maybe,” I admitted with a low growl, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, my eyes dark and unwavering. “But now he knows exactly who you belong to.”
Her blush deepened even further, heat spreading across her cheeks and down to her chest. She shook her head slowly, fighting a smile that threatened to break through her sass. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” I echoed with a faint smirk, pressing my lips gently against her temple. “But don’t pretend it didn’t make you hot.”
Kathy’s laughter floated toward us, breaking the charged moment as she approached, her eyes bright with amusement.
“Well, that was quite the show,” she teased.
Clara let out a long-suffering sigh, but her eyes softened with affection as she looked at her mom. “Seriously, Mom? Don’t encourage this behavior!”
She shook her head knowingly, her gaze dancing between Clara’s flushed face and my possessive stance.
“Nothing I say or do is going to make a difference, Clare-bear. He’s just like your dad,” she replied, her tone affectionate.
