Page 53 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter fifty-three

T he sun is warm but gentle as we step out through the back doors, Grayson on one side, Brooks on the other.

Grayson takes my hand as I step down the first step, while Brooks comes along beside me and puts his arm around my back, his hand slipping into my back shorts pocket. The morning haze has lifted, leaving the air fresh and tinged with magnolia.

I’m in denim shorts and a soft black tank I’ve never seen before, but it was hanging in the closet where Grayson had put my things.

The backyard opens into something more estate than yard, mature live oaks dripping with moss, wrought iron benches set in quiet corners, and a cobblestone path that winds past a manicured rose garden toward a fenced-in orchard I didn’t even know existed. The property stretches endlessly.

“This place is unreal,” I say under my breath.

“You could get lost out here. ”

Grayson doesn’t look at me, but his voice is low, amused.

“Well, that was planned, but we aren’t ready to talk about that.”

We start the slow walk, no rush in our steps. Brooks points out the outdoor kitchen and grill station, saying he and Grayson host cookouts “when they feel like pretending to be normal.”

There’s a pool, long and narrow, built for laps more than play. It spills into a private grotto at the far end. Beyond it? A two-story guesthouse, pale blue with dark shutters and a wraparound porch.

“For future use,” Grayson says casually.

“For Bobbie,” Brooks clarifies with a glance at me. “Or for when you need space.”

I don’t answer, but the thought lands soft.

We walk for over an hour. They show me the gym, the converted barn-turned-workshop, even a chicken coop tucked in the trees with eggs already collected for tomorrow’s breakfast.

There’s a kind of quiet joy to it, watching them show me this world they’ve built, this private kingdom they’re letting me into.

By the time we circle back to the house, my shoulders are sun-warmed, and my feet ache a little from the walk.

Inside, a note is already waiting on the kitchen island.

Reservation confirmed.

Commander’s.

7:30.

Wine cellar.

Grayson catches my eye.

“It’s dressy. We’ll give you time to get ready.”

Brooks smirks.

“I may have picked something up for tonight.”

Of course he did .

When I head upstairs, the bedroom is empty. The door to the en suite is cracked open, warm light spilling through. I push it open and pause.

The bath is already drawn. Steam curls from the surface, scented with jasmine and something softly sweet. A bath bomb fizzes merrily in the water, trailing pink and white swirls along the edge of the tub.

My Kindle rests on a towel within arm’s reach. Next to it, a glass of red wine and the jasmine lotion I always buy but rarely take the time to use. A soft black robe is folded across the counter, clean and plush.

Brooks had been here.

I quickly shed my clothes, knowing by the setup that they will give me privacy. While they don’t give me room, they do give me space. Alone or quiet reflection time. They stay close enough to let me feel their strength without being suffocated.

I sink into the water slowly, letting it wrap around me. Warm, fragrant, indulgent in the quietest way. Just care.

I close my eyes and exhale.

It’s the first day I haven’t texted Bobbie. Not because I forgot. And not because anything is wrong. I just didn’t need to. And I know she didn’t either.

She’s with Devon. And whatever that is, it’s looking real, based on how cagey she had been about him when I asked, and then after what I saw between them at the club.

Bobbie has always been this way, though. She wants to make sure before she talks about it, makes sure it’s real.

Unlike me. I say everything out loud and hope it makes sense. She doesn’t chase it. She waits. And when it’s real, she lets it in.

Two weeks ago, none of this would’ve made sense. Her, with Devon. Me, here. Both of us brushing up against something that feels bigger than we know how to name.

We didn’t expect it. But maybe that’s the point .

Not all good things come slow. Some just arrive, unexpected, undeniable, and exactly on time.