“Have they told you yet what their plan is?” Pearl leans forward, her sequins catching the light.
“Their plan is apparently to stay forever and make my life a living hell.” I take a long sip of wine, the liquid courage a welcome burn down my throat. “I filed eviction papers last week.”
“You what?” Baby sits up straighter, her eyes wide. “You’re actually trying to kick them out?”
“They’re trespassing,” I say flatly, my lawyer voice taking over. “My grandfather may have given them permission to stay, but he’s dead and I own the property now. They need to go.”
“And?” Josie prompts, her eyes gleaming with fascination. “What did they say?”
“They’re refusing to leave.” My jaw tightens. “Something about tenancy rights and needing proper notice. Apparently I can’t just kick them out overnight.”
“So what are you going to do?” Josie asks.
I set my wine glass down on a nearby stack of books, the clink sounding final in the quiet room. The act of defiance, of stating my plan out loud to this unlikely audience, lights a fire in my chest. A fire I haven’t felt since I was eighteen, driving away from this town with nothing but a broken heart and a duffel bag.
“New plan,” I say, my tone brooking no argument. “I move into the main house regardless and wait them out.” I look at each of them, burning with a determination that feels both foreign and familiar. “It’s my property. If they want to live with the mice like stubborn assholes, fine. But I’m not staying away from my own home because they refuse to leave.”
And like the act of defiance itself is a catalyst, a fierce, almost feral smile crosses my face. “They have no idea what I can do when I’m pissed off. But they won’t take away what’s mine.”
The vehemence in my tone hangs in the air. It’s a declaration of war.
There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then, simultaneously, the four of them burst into laughter. It’s not mocking laughter. It’s the sound of delighted, surprised, and thoroughly impressed cackling. It’s the laughter of women who recognize a kindred spirit, a fellow fighter.
“Oh, honey,” Dot says, wiping a tear from her eye. “This is going to be so much fun.”
I sit back in my chair, a real smile finally touching my lips. The tension in my shoulders eases for the first time in days. I might be fighting a war of attrition with three stubborn Alphas, but I am starting to feel at ease in this town.
Boone
Blue dances around my feet, his tail a blur of motion, his whines a high-pitched symphony of impatience. I set his blue feeding bowl down and he dives in, his lapping the only noise for a moment.
This is my ritual. The simple, uncomplicated act of caring for something that depends on me.
I grab my mug and walk over to the fire pit where Knox and Rhett are already set up. The smell of coffee and frying sausage hangs in the cool air, a promise of warmth and protein.
“Morning,” Rhett grunts, not looking up from the cast-iron skillet where sausages are sizzling, their casings popping and browning.
Knox just nods, his attention on the main house. A rhythmicthwack-thwack-thwackechoes across the yard. “What the hell is she building in there?” he asks, taking a swig of his coffee. “It sounds like she’s trying to single-handedly rebuild the whole damn place.”
“Probably coffins,” Rhett says, flipping a sausage with a fork. “One for each of us. She seems like the type.”
Knox lets out a short laugh. I don’t. I just stare at the house, at the window where I can see a shadow moving. The thought isn’t entirely unfathomable.
“Speaking of things that appeared out of nowhere,” Knox continues, gesturing with his mug toward the front porch where the golden retriever is now chasing its own tail. “Where the fuck did that dog come from?”
“Heard Mabel at the feed store talking about it,” I say, my voice low. “Said Willa and Saramaria pulled it out of a well. They’re keeping it together, for now. Joint custody.”
“Joint custody,” Knox repeats, a smirk playing on his lips. “Of course she is. Does any of you find it weird how at home she’s gotten so fast? The house, the dog, the... construction project. She’s only been back a week.”
Rhett turns off the gas on the camp stove, scooping the sausages onto a plate. He’s quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to give her the papers,” he says, the words landing with unexpected weight.
Knox and I both look at him. “What?” Knox asks, his smirk gone. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I can’t let her have a whole case on us,” Rhett says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He looks directly at Knox. “I pulled the records. The tenancy laws in this state are a mess. She could drag this out for months, even years. A lawsuit, a public dispute... who even knows how that affects the ranch and especially you, Knox. You can’t have a scandal brewing when you’re getting ready for the circuit. Gary would have a fit.”
Knox scowls, but he doesn’t argue. We all know Rhett is right. The last thing any of us need is legal trouble, especially with the APBRA already so unstable.
“Fine,” Knox says, stabbing a sausage with his fork. “But make copies first. All of them.”
