Page 43

LENNON

“No, Mom. Of course I didn’t tell them,” Grace says.

I pause in the hallway outside the tack room when Grace’s voice carries through the half-open door. I’m supposed to check the ledger for next week’s feed delivery, but Grace is hiding out here on the phone, and she’s pacing.

“Because I don’t want a fuss. You know I hate that.”

There’s a beat of silence, long enough that I imagine her mom is lecturing her.

“I don’t need a birthday party,” Grace adds. “Seriously. I’ll go for a ride in the morning and work on my edits in the afternoon. It’s just another day.”

Another pause.

“Yeah. I miss you, too. But it’s good here… like a vacation. And I haven’t finished the article yet.”

She laughs.

“They’ve got me working, don’t you worry, but it doesn’t feel like graft when you’re building something for family.”

Another pause.

“I know I’m not family, Mom. For their family. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

She ends the call with a quiet sigh that sounds lonely, if you’re listening close.

And I am.

She steps out of the tack room seconds later, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, startled when she sees me there. She covers it fast by flashing that easy, scarlet smile.

“Hey,” she says. “Didn’t know anyone else was around.”

“Grabbing the inventory,” I reply, lifting the clipboard. Looking at her makes my body flush hot. Reaching out, I take her hand and pull her close. She’s so much smaller than me, but the strength of her body is still clear in my mind, and how well she took us all, over and over. “You feeling okay?”

Grace nods, dragging her bottom lip through her teeth as she blushes. “A little sore, but it’s all good.”

“Me, too,” I smile. “That’s what happens when there are four men in a barn. The drive to one-up each other is real.”

She grins shyly. “No need for competition when you work so well as a team.”

I bend to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “I still taste you,” I say as I draw back, and the flush develops into a full-scale blush.

“I still taste you.”

I wink. “Better than strawberry sundaes.”

She laughs, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “You sure about that?”

I shake my head slowly and let my tongue dart between my lips. “I think I need another taste.”

“Woah, there, cowboy. My lady parts need a vacation off this ranch.”

“Never,” I smile. “She just needs to do what we all do every day. Push through the pain to the satisfaction on the other side of hard work.”

“Who said romance is dead on this ranch?”

I touch her cheek and kiss her jaw tenderly, making a mental list of all the things I love about her.

Her smell. Her taste. The way she smiles and her eyes light up like Christmas.

Her ability to push back against me enough to make me grin.

The way she can bring fun into even the most boring of tasks.

The way she touches me and my family with gentle care.

“Romance is alive and kicking out here in these parts,” I say. “Just you wait and see.”

She furrows her brow, but her eyes are sparkling with intrigue. “I don’t like surprises,” she says.

“You liked the boots,” I point out.

“I did like the boots.”

I kiss her nose and release her hand. “Work’s calling my name.”

“The article’s calling mine,” she says.

That damned article. I don’t even want to think about it now. What’s the point of writing the story of how we’re looking for a woman when we’ve already found her?

“I’ll see you later?”

She smiles and nods because, of course, it’s inevitable.

I watch her head off toward the house, and I don’t say a word about what I heard, but it sticks with me.

She doesn’t do birthdays, like Brody and Jaxon.

The thing is, I know both those men secretly wish for a birthday celebration that touches their hearts and makes them feel loved. What they don’t do is disappointment.

I need to share the way she talked about building something for family with the rest. It’s what we’ve wanted to hear for so long and another reassurance that we’re on the right path.

Doing something for her birthday could be a chance to show Grace how special life with a big family can be. If she won’t make a fuss, then it’s damn well up to the rest of us to do it for her, ranch style.

***

The last dinner dish is scrubbed, dried, and shelved, and the kids are tucked away with their nightlights and half-mumbled bedtime songs. As I pass the kids’ room, Grace murmurs to Corbin, “Late chores? Do you guys ever stop working?”

“Broken fencing,” he lies smoothly. “South paddock. Might take a while. Can you keep an ear out for the kids?”

“Of course. I’ll keep Beau in, too, in case Junie gets up again.”

I keep walking, only turning on the stairs to find Corbin behind me.

We make our way out of the back door without speaking.

As soon as it clicks shut behind us, we cut a path toward the barn, boots crunching gravel.

One by one, the others filter in: Conway first, then Jaxon, Dylan, and even Brody, who shows up with arms folded like he’s already halfway to saying no to whatever it is I’m about to ask.

When we’re all present, they gather in a loose half-circle around me in the low lamplight of the barn, the air thick with hay and quiet expectation.

The only sounds are the low shuffling of horses in the adjacent stalls and the creak of old wood settling around us like it also has an opinion.

Conway gives me a look. “What’s this about?”

I clear my throat and glance over my shoulder toward the house before speaking. “It’s Grace’s birthday tomorrow.”

That gets an immediate reaction. Eyebrows rise. There’s a low whistle from Levi. Dylan straightens from where he was leaning against the post.

“She hasn’t said anything,” Corbin murmurs.

“She said she doesn’t like fuss,” I reply. “Heard her tell her mom she was planning to spend the day working. Didn’t want to make it a thing.”

“She said that?” Jaxon asks, skeptical.

“She did. But the way she said it… I don’t buy it.” I glance around at them. “We all know what that means. Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want something special. Just means she’s never had it before… can’t trust it.”

We’ve all met folks who pretend they don’t want good things because they’ve never had them. Hell, a few of us are those folks .

“So what are you thinking?” Dylan asks.

I rub the back of my neck where the muscles are corded like rope. “We throw her something she won’t forget… something that shows her she matters to us.”

“She does matter,” Corbin says quietly.

“Yeah, well, tomorrow we prove it.”

Brody grunts. “I’m guessing you already made a list?”

I give him a flat look. “Of course I made a list.”

Jaxon smirks faintly. “Of course he did.”

Conway folds his arms. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

I pull the folded paper from my pocket and open it, reading the top line.

“Carrot cake.”

Levi tips his head. “Why carrot cake?”

“It’s her favorite.”

“What else you got?” Conway asks.

I turn the paper to face them. It’s the shortest list I ever wrote. One entry. I ignore the snickers. What do they think I am? Cowboy by day, party planner by night?

“What about a barn dance?” Dylan asks. “She likes those old country records. I’ve heard her humming in the kitchen when she thinks nobody’s listening.”

“She likes it out under the stars,” Nash says. “How about a birthday picnic? We can make sandwiches, spread blankets around a fire pit, make s’mores, music, maybe a little dancing.”

“The kids can pick flowers in the morning,” Corbin adds. “We’ll help them make her a crown or bunch or something. She’ll love that.”

Harrison rubs his chin. “We could get the kids to sing her the happy birthday song? And make her a card.”

“We don’t have a gift,” I point out.

“I can paint her something,” McCartney says. “We have some plain wooden frames stored somewhere.”

“What would you paint?” Conway asks.

“The ranch?” McCartney bites his bottom lip, glancing up at the wooden rafters. “Us? ”

“Like a memento for when she leaves?” Brody says. “That’s a great idea.”

“She’s not leaving,” Cody barks, his usually friendly expression turning dark. “Paint it, McCartney. Paint the ranch, all of us, the kids, and Grace, too. Put her in the center. Show her where she belongs.”

Our resident artist nods solemnly, taking on the responsibility even though we have no time.

I finish jotting on my list. “We’ll need to keep her busy tomorrow morning while all this is going on.”

“I’ll take her out,” Brody says. “Fix some more fences. Make her think she’s going to get to know me some more.”

“That’ll be a great way to make her want to leave for good,” Levi says with a grin.

Brody doesn’t reply, but I catch his jaw twitching in annoyance. Even if he’s not ready to admit how much he cares, he’s still found a way to make this whole plan work.

I nod slowly, the schedule already forming in my head like fence lines clicking into place.

“All right, then. We’ve got work to do. I’ll help Corbin with the food prep.

Dylan, you take the kids to gather the flowers; Harrison, you’re on song and card duty; Nash and Cody can prep the fire pit and get the blankets ready.

Levi, you’re on music duty. McCartney’s painting. Brody’s babysitting.”

“What about me and Jaxon?” Conway asks.

“I’ll take drinks,” Jaxon says.

Conway lifts a brow at Jaxon, then looks at me. “I’ll handle lighting, then. We’ve still got those string lights in the storage shed from Eli’s birthday, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “They’ll need untangling, but they should still work. There are glass jars in storage to make lanterns.”

“We’ll make it work,” Conway replies.

The plan’s rough, thrown together with duct tape and wishful thinking, but there’s a quiet energy humming beneath it like we all know how rare this opportunity is: a woman like Grace, in a place like this, and a chance to show her how special she is to us. None of us wants to mess it up .