Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Levi’s next. He takes my hand and presses a soft kiss on the back. “Birthdays should be about laughter, not tears,” he says. “What can we do to make you smile?”
Relief trickles through me like the cold water.
“I…”
“Give her space,” Conway says.
McCartney’s standing with his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, eyes unusually focused. “That painting,” he says. “That’s what we want, Grace. And we want you to want it, too.”
I blink at him.
He continues. “Forget the article. Forget telling the world about this ranch and the eleven lonely cowboys who live here. We don’t need that anymore. We need you. Stay.”
Brody crosses his arms, his face half-shadowed by the firelight. His voice is low and steady. “Leave her be. Can’t you see she’s upset? She doesn’t need all this pressure.”
Then Jaxon speaks, rough as gravel. “We know we’re not perfect, Gracie, but we want to be for you.” His gaze flicks to mine, and his arms spread wide. “This here, it’s all we have, but you belong here… if you want to.”
The fire pops, sending up a tiny burst of sparks. I look at each of them in turn, knowing I should say something back, something meaningful and real, but the words get stuck somewhere between my throat and my ribs.
So I tell the truth.
“I didn’t know it was possible,” I whisper. “To be so fully accepted by so many people at once. And I sure as hell didn’t know it could be this easy to care for them all right back.”
No one moves. No one speaks. The air is charged with this thing these cowboys want to build between us.
I can’t give them a commitment. My life back home still calls to me with its safe routine and control. It’s hard not to panic when you’re presented with the exact opposite of everything you ever expect. The exact thing you always thought you wanted.
Instead, I take Conway’s hand and then Jaxon’s, and I lead them to sit on the blankets. I’m barefoot and emotionally wrecked, but having these men around me is all I need to feel better. McCartney drops down in front of me, wordless and warm, and I slide my hand into his, squeezing softly.
Conway sits on my other side, and when I lean into him, he doesn’t hesitate to lift his arm so I can rest my head on his shoulder. Jaxon places his broad palm on my leg, reassuring and strong.
The rest settle in around us. Quiet. Still. Together, letting the soft country music wash over us.
I don’t think about the article I have to write or the decision I have to make.
I listen as they share stories of growing up on this land, and when I’m relaxed and a little drowsy, I’ve decided what I need to do.
38
HARRISON
The air is still warm; the fire pit is enough to stop the slight breeze from chilling our skin. The atmosphere is thick with intention as we gather around Grace, her party done, her eyes still shining with tears. It breaks my heart, especially on her birthday. I know the song says you can cry if you want to, but I like to think that birthdays should be about laughter. And if not laughter, maybe orgasms.
Now the kids are inside, the real celebrations can begin. Maybe this is the way we lift Grace from whatever brought about her dark spiral. Above us, the moon is merely a slice of white in a navy sky, a sly smile that I wish Grace would feel happy enough to mirror.
Grace snuggles into Conway’s chest, and he wraps his arm around her, kissing her forehead. Maybe it’s how she runs her hand up his side that reveals that she’s seeking more than comfort. Or maybe it’s the soft sigh she makes when Jaxon lifts her hair to kiss her nape.
We’ve all been with Grace in varying numbers between one and four, except Brody, who lurks at the outside of the group, still standing, hands folded over his chest.
But never as a group as large as this.
So many huge cowboys gathered around one woman are a sight to behold. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say this was a fool’s errand, except the Jackson Ranch has ten cowboys to one woman, and they’re still sitting pretty after a few years and a few babies.
When Conway tips Grace’s chin, and she leans into his kiss, letting his hand slide up her shirt and over the smooth skin of her ribs, she moans, and that’s the sound that changes everything. Time seems to stand still as we crowd in closer. Jaxon’s hand runs from her calf to the outside of her thigh, smoothing the fabric of her jeans until he palms her ass. Nash eases one boot, then the other, from her feet, peeling away the socks next.