“I mean, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of comparison… None, really. But you sure know what you’re doing with it.”
“Ah, fuck.Law.”
“What?” he asks, trying to look innocent.
I point an accusing finger his way, hiding my crotch behind the kitchen counter. “You can’t get me hard right now. I needabuy beef for your family, all of whom will be here very fucking soon.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours,” I declare. “All of it, yours.”
He huffs a laugh, smile warm as he stretches his arm along the back of the couch, the bandages on his hand making my chest clench tight. “Not everything has changed, has it?”
“No, it hasn’t,” I agree, my throat hoarse.
“I’m glad for it, Oak.”
Well, fuck.
“Groceries,” I say again, grabbing my keys. “Take a quick nap if you can. I’ll be back soon to make the stew. And Law? For God’s sake, don’t let my cow up on the furniture while I’m gone.”
He sends me a salute.
As I close the front door behind me, the man I’m closer to than anyone tucked inside with my damn cow, I realize this is it. Isn’t it?
This is the one that’s going to stick.
Chapter 27
Lawson
Oakley’s backyard is filled to the brim, his patio furniture accompanied by a couple folding tables and a dozen chairs brought over from the ranch. Everybody is deep into their stew, no one complaining about the hot dish on a still-hot day.
Especially not me.
The stew is perfect. Oakley’s always is, even though he does it on the stove, not in a slow cooker. How he manages to create such tender beef alongside carrots and potatoes with the perfect texture, I’ll never know.
The rosemary from his new windowsill herbs adds a nice touch, as well.
“Gonna propose?” Oakley says under his breath, an amused glint in his eye. He’s clearly teasing me for enjoying my meal so much.
“To you or this stew?” I joke back. “Either way, the answer might be yes.”
Oakley breaks into a sudden coughing fit, and Colton slaps his back. “Wrong pipe,” Oakley manages to tell my brother.
“Did I hear Benson is back in town?” my dad asks no one in particular.
Remi shoves a spoonful of stew in his mouth as my mom nods.
“Got back yesterday,” she says. “Louise is over the moon.”
Louise is my mother’s closest friend. August, Louise’s youngest son, is Remi’s age, and the two have been thick as thieves since they were kids. Benson, her oldest, is the same age as Jackson.
“Didn’t know he was planning to come back,” Jackson says, not that he and Benson were ever all that close. No more than Jackson is close to anyone else in town.
“Don’t think it was planned,” my mom says. “Colton, dear, you lost a carrot.”
“What?” my brother nearly shouts.
