Page 25

brODY

I watch from the porch as Grace disappears with the kids down the dirt path toward the fence line and the rusty old swing set.

Beau trots happily beside them, tail wagging like a damn fool.

Their voices float back on the evening breeze—off-key nursery rhymes, squeals of laughter.

Bright sounds that don’t belong out here in all this space and silence.

Junie’s leading the pack, strutting like she owns the land, dressed in her glittery tutu.

Matty’s spinning in circles, arms flailing, scuffed knees still healing from the last time he fell over.

The twins are already plotting mischief, racing ahead to climb the fence even though they’ve been warned a thousand times.

Rory bounces along on Grace’s hip, his grin so much like Levi’s, it makes me want to laugh.

But it’s Eli that stops me cold.

That kid rarely smiles and hasn’t skipped since her mom left with a single suitcase and no note, like none of us mattered, especially her kids.

Now? She’s running after Beau, skipping, cheeks flushed with pure joy as Grace calls after her to “be careful, wild girl.”

My jaw tightens with a raw, gnawing ache I don’t have a name for, and feel ridiculous for allowing. The screen door slams behind me. Time to get inside before someone notices me standing, watching like a goddamn sap.

Inside, the big dining table is set up like a council of war.

Chairs scraped into place, steaming coffee mugs ready, papers spread out before Conway, ready for strategic discussion.

My eldest cousin could make the drafting of a shopping list as serious as a National Security review.

The overhead light flickers once, like it knows what’s coming.

Conway stands at the head, arms crossed, eyes dark and steady.

His gaze flicks around the room, waiting for everyone to settle.

Levi leans back on his chair like he owns the joint, Harrison’s already scribbling something on the notepad he keeps in his pocket, and Lennon’s got his usual clipboard balanced on one knee.

The tension is a living thing in the room.

I take my spot at the end, folding my arms across my chest. The chair creaks beneath me, loud in the quiet.

Conway’s voice cuts through like a blade. “All right. Let’s get started.”

I already know what my answer is going to be.

Levi’s the first to speak, naturally. He pushes his chair back on two legs, arms braced loosely behind his head. “I guess I overstepped.” His eyes dart around, surprisingly concerned about everyone’s responses. “Pushed the boundaries. I know what’s at stake… I shouldn’t have…”

Conway’s jaw ticks. “It isn’t only about what happened between you and Grace, Levi.

” He shoots a look at Jaxon, too, who sits stiff and silent at the far end, eyes dark under the brim of his hat.

“It’s about what all this means. She was supposed to write an article to help us find the woman we need.

Now you, Jaxon, and others are suggesting she’s the woman we should focus on. Is that the case?”

The table falls quiet .

Lennon clears his throat and flips a page on his clipboard. “We should talk about the pros and cons. All of us. Then we can decide how to move forward.”

“Or if we should move forward at all,” I mutter.

Conway’s eyes flash to me, but he doesn’t call me out. Not yet. Cody, ever the peacemaker, leans forward. “Look, I like her. The kids adore her. Beau barely lets her out of his sight. That says something.”

McCartney snorts softly. “Yeah, the dog’s smitten.”

“So Beau’s influencing our wife choices, now?” I say, biting back a sarcastic smile.

Corbin speaks next, his voice soft but firm. “She’s good with the kids. She jumped in without being asked around here. She works hard and makes it look easy. That all means something, too.”

“Means she’s doing her job,” I say, voice flat. “That’s what she’s here for. To get under our skin, experience our life, so she can write the damned article.”

Levi slams his chair forward with a loud crack. “You don’t think it’s more than that?”

I meet his glare without blinking. “I think you’re thinking with the wrong head, as usual.”

The room tenses. Jaxon’s still silent and brooding, but his knuckles are white where they grip the edge of the table.

Conway raises a hand, calm but sharp enough to cut. “Enough. We’re talking, not fighting. Let’s finish listing the pros and cons.”

The silence stretches taut as fencing wire before Harrison leans in, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Pro: she adapts faster than anyone we’ve ever brought out here.

The kids, the house, even the routines. She’s intelligent and emotionally aware.

She had the kids listening and learning.

She’d be an asset where their education is concerned. ”

“She’s good with the animals,” Nash adds softly from his spot near the window, his voice calm as ever.

“She asks good questions,” Cody says. “She listens and doesn’t judge. ”

Lennon taps his pen against the clipboard. “She’s organized. That breakfast spread was timed impeccably. She takes an interest in everything, even the boring parts of this business.”

“Again, her job,” I point out. Why won’t they get that this is going to end like the last three, with us getting attached and then disappointed? Why am I the only one who seems bothered about handing over his heart again?

McCartney chuckles under his breath. “She got Matty to sit and draw for more than five minutes. That’s witchcraft.”

The tension eases a fraction. Cody smiles faintly into his coffee.

“She’s fun,” Lennon says, taking us all by surprise. Fun? Since when has that been something Lennon’s interested in?

“She is,” Corbin agrees. “She reads to the kids with these exaggerated voices.”

“She jokes around… makes this place feel lighter,” Jaxon adds.

My mouth drops open. Jaxon’s talking about jokes now? I feel like I’m sitting in a parallel universe.

“Cons?” Conway prompts, his deep voice cutting back through the moment.

Dylan shrugs. “She’s got a city streak a mile wide. Might not last when winter sets in.”

“She’s too curious,” I say, flat as stone.

“But she’s got no idea what she’s walking into.

None of them did. But I think she’s starting to think she can handle it.

I think she wants some of what we can offer.

The stability. But that’ll wear out soon enough when everything else this life has to throw at her comes crashing down around her ears. ”

All eyes swing to me.

Levi sneers. “Or maybe she actually wants it and can handle it, and it’s you that can’t.”

I ignore his jibe and twist the conversation back to him. “Maybe she won’t want to after you’ve shown her what you’ve got to offer.”

He narrows his eyes. “She loved what I have to offer. ”

I ignore him. “Another con? She’s bonding with the kids too quickly, and when she leaves, it’s gonna rip them apart.”

Conway’s eyes harden. “If she leaves.”

“She’s an editor-in-chief. Do you even know what that means? She probably earns more in six months than the ranch makes in a year. She’s got a master’s degree. Probably a higher IQ than all of us could scrape together. I know enough.”

The weight of my words settles heavily over the table, and no one argues.

Finally, Jaxon breaks his silence, voice low and rough. “She makes it hard not to want more. She fits in a way none of the others have. It’s natural. She’s been here for days, but it feels like months… in a good way.”

The admission surprises even me. Jaxon meets my stare across the table and waits for me to look away first.

Finally, Cody exhales sharply and leans forward, elbows on the table. “We’ve talked about a lot,” he says. “But we’ve missed one important part. You can’t build this life without chemistry. Without… sex. It’s been the stumbling block for every other woman who’s failed to go the distance so far.”

Harrison clears his throat but says nothing. Dylan’s jaw clenches. McCartney stares hard at the wood grain like he can will himself invisible.

Levi leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “She knows we’re men, not saints. She knows what we need. She has some complexities, but I think she can handle it.”

“That’s your take.” I bite out the words cold and sharp.

“You ever think she let you in because she’s working?

Because she’s gathering material? Because she doesn’t want to piss off the subject of her article?

Because all of this is temporary, and she’s looking for the fuck-boys amongst us for some light relief. ”

Levi’s mouth tightens, but before he can respond, Jaxon breaks his silence.

“She needs it.”

Every head in the room snaps to stare at him. Conway leans forward, pressing his hands flat against the table. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like talking about this… about her,” Jaxon says, ruffling his messy curls in a frustrated swipe. “It’s her private business, but…”

“Spit it out,” I bark.

“She makes herself come in her sleep, if she’s not… satisfied.”

“What?” Dylan’s expression reflects the surprise of every man in the room except Jaxon.

“It’s how things happened last night. I thought she was crying, but she was…”

“Coming?” Levi asks, grinning.

“Yeah. In her sleep. Then, when she woke up and found me in her room, she wanted it again.”

“She had an orgasm and wanted another one?” Harrison asks.

“Sex matters,” McCartney says quietly, as though trying to calm the rising tension. “But it’s only part of the equation. We’re not only choosing someone to sleep with. We’re choosing someone to live with. Raise kids with. Build a life with.”

Conway nods once. “Noted. But a woman’s libido isn’t always like a man’s.”

“Grace has that part down,” Levi says. “She told me she never came with a man before me.”

“Sounds like she was trying to stroke your ego, dude,” Cody says.

“Nah.” Levi shakes his head.

Jaxon leans forward. “I believe what she said. There’s a whole lot of complex shit going on in that woman’s brain, but she needs a lot of sex. A lot. I nearly wore out my dick and her pussy, and she was still needy. And we can give her that. There’s enough of us to keep her coming.”

“We can sit around here discussing this, but we need to ask her.” Nash presses.

“I don’t think she’s ready,” Dylan says.

“Her life is somewhere so far away from here in all ways… the step is too great. Even if she stayed for a month, and we spent all that time trying to show her that this is where she’s meant to be, I think we’d fail.

What can we offer her that will rival her success and responsibility…

her family and friends… everything she knows?

Vote or no vote, it’s a pointless exercise. ”

“That kind of defeatism isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Jaxon swigs the last of his coffee and slams the mug onto the table.

“And we need to know if everyone is on board with trying,” Conway says, ignoring the loud thwack.

“So, vote.” I sit back, jaw tight. They’re all so damn hopeful. They think it’s going to work this time. I wish I had their faith, but her eyes are on the horizon. She’s already imagining driving toward it and away from us.

Conway’s eyes sweep the table. “All right then. Vote. Yes, if you want to move forward and try with Grace. No, if you think we should stop this before anyone gets hurt.”

One by one, the hands go up. Jaxon’s first, steady and certain.

Cody flashes a quick grin and follows. Lennon nods and raises his.

McCartney and Nash both lift their hands, then Dylan, reluctantly but firmly.

Corbin’s hand joins a beat later. Harrison taps the table once with his knuckle before lifting his hand slowly, as if he still isn’t sure.

Levi lifts his hand immediately. Conway hesitates, jaw tight, then finally lifts his hand last. He’s usually the most cautious of all of us, so that doesn’t surprise me.

Ten hands.

All eyes land on me.

I don’t move.

I feel Levi’s glare burning across the table. Conway waits, calm and unshakable.

I shake my head slowly. “No.”

The word lands with finality.

Conway sighs. “Noted.”

Silence .

And then, calmly, as if I hadn’t punched a hole in the damn dream, he turns to me. “Reasons?”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the scarred wood.

“Because she won’t stay. Because we’re setting ourselves up to fail.

Because even if she cares, and maybe she does, it won’t outweigh her career, her independence, her life back home.

She isn’t one of us. We’ve tried this before, and we got burned, and I don’t want to go through it again. ”

No one speaks, and I get it. What I’ve said is as heavy as a cattle gate slamming shut.

“So you’re against the whole thing?”

I face Conway, needing him to listen. “It’s been a lame duck idea since the start, and Grace being here has made it more obvious.

The risk to all of us is too high, but especially to those kids.

They already love her… we can’t keep bringing people in here and take them away again.

I don’t know what the answer is, but this isn’t it. ”

I glance toward the door. Out in the distance, Grace is standing in the fading light by the swing set, hair loose, laughing at something Matty says as Beau circles at her feet.

My chest tightens painfully as the memory of my own momma pushing me on that swing stabs through me, knocking air from my lungs.

Love is a risk. No point in experiencing it if it keeps getting taken away.

I clear my throat and look back at the table.

“We’re gonna end up damaging them… for the rest of their lives.

And I won’t vote for something I know damn well has a ninety-nine percent chance of crashing and burning. ”

Cody breaks the silence, softer than usual. “But that one percent?”

I meet his eyes. “Not worth betting the whole damn ranch on.”

It isn’t the ranch that’s at risk, but admitting that I can’t bear to lose another person is too painful and raw, even to these men who are part of my body and soul.

Conway straightens, letting the weight of the conversation settle. Then he nods once. “Ten to one. The decision stands.”

I don’t argue. What’s the point? I’ve said my piece. They all know where I stand. I’ll never say I told you so when it all goes to shit. I won’t need to. Being right won’t make me feel better.

The scrape of chairs fills the room as the meeting breaks. No one pats me on the back. No one offers hollow reassurances. They know me better than that. I linger behind, staring at the empty coffee mug in front of me. My fists clench, and I force them open again.

I want to believe it’s possible to feel more than this fucking emptiness… this bitterness at the world. God, I want to.

But I can’t.