Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Just like that, he transforms my nerves into heat. The man is gifted.
Colt's house is smaller than Jack's cabin, but just as isolated—a ranch-style home tucked against the same mountain, with three trucks already parked out front. Jack's fingers touch the small of my back as we approach, possessive and reassuring all at once.
The door opens before we knock. Beau's shit-eating grin is the first thing I see.
"Well, fuck me sideways, he actually showed." Beau looks past Jack to me, his grin widening. "And he brought his ball and chain."
"Watch it," Jack warns, but there's no real heat in it.
Inside, I meet the rest of his family. Colt—silent, scarred, watchful—nods from the kitchen where he's arranging food. The ex-firefighter turned sheriff has burn scars tracing up one side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. His badge catches the light as he moves, precise and efficient, like a man who's learned to carefully ration his energy. He barely speaks, but his eyes miss nothing.
Cade, the wilderness expert, is the last to arrive—bursting in ten minutes late with pine needles in his hair and a flask he doesn't bother hiding. "Traffic," he deadpans, though we all know there's not another house for miles. He gives me a handshake that transitions into a hug Jack clearly doesn't appreciate, given the growl that vibrates through the room.
"Easy, brother," Cade laughs, stepping back. "Just welcoming her to the family." His eyes crinkle at the corners like he's perpetually amused by life. "Someone has to be friendly around here."
The meal is simple. Venison, potatoes, roasted chicken and broccoli, because Jack insisted I have a vegetable, but the conversation is anything but. Stories about their mother flow as freely as the wild river, each brother adding pieces to the mosaic of a woman I wish I'd known. How she'd broken Beau's arm when he was twelve because he was picking on Cade and she'd tackled him during a backyard football game. How she'd taught Colt to make biscuits from scratch when he was eight because "a man needs to feed himself, not wait for a woman to do it." How she'd once won a marksmanship competition against their father using his own service weapon.
Through it all, Jack keeps one hand on me—my knee, my shoulder, the back of my neck. Not possessive now, just... connected. The ring he carved me catches the light with every movement, drawing Colt's eye.
"That's good work," he says, the first words he's spoken directly to me. "Jack always had the touch with details."
"He made me a nursing chair too," I say without thinking, then freeze.
The table goes silent. Four pairs of identical blue eyes lock on me.
"A what now?" Beau drawls, eyes dancing as he leans forward.
Jack's hand tightens on my thigh under the table. "You shut the fuck up. All of you."
But it's too late. The Boone brothers smell blood in the water.
"A nursing chair," Cade repeats, lips twitching. "Those are for—"
"Shut it," Jack warns.
"—mothers," Cade finishes, dodging the dinner roll Jack hurls at his head.
"You work fast, brother." Beau whistles low, raising his beer in a mock toast. "All that talk about staying alone on your mountain, and you're already building baby furniture."
"Says the grease monkey who can't commit to the same brand of motor oil," Cade snorts, pulling his flask out again. "At least Jack knows what he wants."
Jack's hand slides higher on my thigh, a reminder of what's coming later. "Just planning ahead."
My face burns, but something warm unfurls in my chest at how easily they include me in their future. Like I've always belonged here.
We stay longer than I expected, the memorial dinner evolving from solemn remembrance to raucous storytelling. When Jack finally pulls me toward the door, his brothers follow us onto the porch.
"Please, don’t leave him," Cade tells me, flask glinting in his hand, genuine warmth in his voice. "Someone needs to civilize him."
"Ignore him," Beau counters, giving me a once-over that's appreciative but not creepy. "Stay wild. It's more fun that way." Then to Jack: "Bring her by the garage sometime. I'll give her first oil change free."
"You'll keep your greasy paws off what's mine," Jack retorts, but the brothers just laugh.
Cade follows us to the truck. "Got a journalist coming through next week for some survival training," he tells Jack. "Five days in the bush with a city girl. Should be interesting."
"Don't scare her off," Jack warns, but there's a gleam in his eye, like he knows something his brother doesn't yet.
Colt simply nods, his badge catching the last light of evening. The approval in his eyes means more somehow. Like praise from him counts double.
Jack bundles me into the truck, his hands already working under my dress before we clear the driveway. "Told you they'd love you."
"I think they just love giving you shit," I laugh, gasping as his fingers find me already wet.