“You promised me one more dance.” She guided me toward the section of flagstone patio cleared for music. “Then cake, and after that, you can decide how much longer you’re willing to share me with our guests.”
“Five minutes.”
“Brogan.”
“Ten. I’m being generous because you’re pregnant.”
Her mouth curved as I drew her into my arms, one hand closing around hers while the other settled low against her back. The song was slow and Jacqueline rested her cheek over my heart and followed without making me pretend dancing required more concentration than tactical movement. I could feel the warmth of her body pressed against me and the soft press of her stomach beneath my palm, and the knowledge that she was my wife and carrying my child almost turned the moment into something too private for a lawn full of witnesses.
“You’re staring at me again,” she murmured, lifting her face until those bright blue eyes met mine.
“Gonna keep doing it.”
“Even when I’m old and gray?”
“Especially then.” I turned her beneath my arm, caught her when she came back against my chest, and the faintest curve touched my mouth when her laughter carried over the music.
Beyond her shoulder, the frame of the new barn rose near the lower pasture, designed around the rehabilitation stalls and treatment spaces Jacqueline had sketched at the kitchen table months earlier. Justin had adapted his design to preserve the original foundation stones, and construction crews had begun rebuilding before the ashes fully cooled. Our veterans’ equine program would use part of the finished facility, giving the club another reason to fill the ranch with men who needed work, horses that needed patience, and the woman who somehow healed both without realizing it.
Jacqueline followed my gaze and rested her hand over mine at her stomach. “Grandpa would’ve loved today.”
“He would’ve loved you being happy.”
The song ended, and a burst of laughter near the makeshift bar pulled our attention across the lawn. Bex stood beside Cipher with one hand resting on the polished wood, her pale-blue maid-of-honor dress ending above a pair of white boots while her hair moved around her shoulders in the evening breeze.
He’d known exactly who she was before she introduced herself because Cipher didn’t walk into a gathering without identifying every person, vehicle, camera, and possible vulnerability.
She was nineteen, Jacqueline’s best friend, and Sheriff Raines’s only daughter, which to someone as logical as Cipher, amounted to three separate hands-off signs in front of a man who treated emotional decisions like faulty code. That knowledge hadn’t stopped him from watching her throughout the reception, though he had apparently convinced himself no one noticed. Bex had though, which explained the determined tilt of her chin as she said something that made his black brows draw together.
Jacqueline followed my attention and whispered, “She’s been trying to get him to dance for twenty minutes.”
I snorted. “Cipher doesn’t dance.”
“He could.”
“He can also disappear underwater for several minutes. Doesn’t mean he enjoys it.”
My wife elbowed me lightly before returning her attention to the bar. Bex smiled up at Cipher and said something I couldn’t hear, but the invitation was obvious in the way she smiled at him. Cipher stared at her for a second too long, then answered quietly enough that the music swallowed the words.
The brightness in Bex’s expression dimmed by a fraction. She covered it fast, lifted her chin and said something that made his jaw tighten, then she walked toward the dance floor without glancing back. Cipher remained beside the bar, expression blank to anyone who didn’t know him, but one hand closed around his untouched glass hard enough to whiten the knuckles.
“What did he say?” Jacqueline asked, concern pulling her brows together.
“Probably something logical and stupid.”
Jacqueline canted her head, frowning. “Those aren’t the same thing.”
I sighed. “With Cipher, they overlap more than he’d admit.”
One of Raines’s youngest deputies intercepted Bex before she reached the tables. He held out his hand, and Bex accepted his invitation with a smile and let him guide her onto the dance floor, where he placed one hand at her waist and bent close enough to make her laugh at whatever he said.
Cipher’s attention locked on that hand, and I groaned when he set down his glass and crossed the lawn.
“Shit,” I muttered.
If he said something to my wife’s best friend and hurt her feelings, I was gonna kick his ass.
The deputy saw him coming and straightened before Cipher reached them, which showed the kid possessed instincts worth keeping. Cipher stopped close enough to force him back half a step and looked pointedly at the hand resting low on Bex’s waist. “You’re fucking done.”
