Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
brIELLE
“ B ri!” Camden rushes down the porch and slams into my leg, his arms wrapping around my waist. The impact jostles the small package balanced atop my phone that I’m trying very desperately to not smash or drop.
I mutter a curse as it starts to tip over.
A strong set of hands grabs it before it manages to fall to the ground.
“Bud, you need to be just a bit more careful. If this was something hot, you both could have been hurt.” Caleb’s warm voice is gentle with his reprimand. Camden still blushes.
“Oops, sorry, Bri,” he says. “Are you here for brunch?”
He mangles the r, so it comes out as “bunch”. I smile and wrap my arm around his shoulders.
“I am. Do you think my outfit is okay?” I ask him.
He pulls away just far enough to look up at me. His brows furrow as his lips bunch into a pout.
“You wear green a lot,” he says. “But purple is your favorite color. Do you like green, too?”
I smile. “I do. I feel like green looks better with my hair. Do you like it?”
Camden taps his fingers against my hip.
Caleb murmurs “Love it, sweetheart,” before Camden can respond.
My cheeks and chest flush, and a wave of need surges through me. It’s been a full week since I’ve touched him, kissed him, smelled him. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. He’s been gone on and off all summer. But this week has felt especially long. A hint of lavender surrounds us, nearly undetectable.
Caleb purrs as he breathes in my scent. He palms my waist and kisses my temple, ignoring his son giggling.
Damn Ethan for ripping the only foolproof set of scent blockers I have right now. The last thing I need is to be filling up Lynn and Scott’s house with my scent. They might not realize what it means, but Emily will. And so will most of the people who might swing by during this brunch or later on this afternoon.
“Let me take those,” Ethan says, a half-step behind Caleb. He holds out a hand for the small package attached to the bouquet of flowers.
His eyes are as stormy as they were last Friday night when he knotted me until I was damn near boneless. The bruises still haven’t faded where he left me marked on my thighs. It’s the only sign—aside from the shirt I wore out of his house that’s now stashed in my closet—that something even happened between us. We haven’t talked about it the entire week since. Nerves weigh on me, but they’re drowned out by the barely constrained desire in his gaze right now. God, I need his beard to scratch me up again.
The lavender grows stronger.
So does my blush.
“Cam,” Caleb says, his voice raspier, “why don’t you take these flowers inside to Nana?”
He eases the bouquet off its precarious perch and hands it to his son. Camden focuses on them, letting his arms drop away from my waist.
“Oh! Nana loves roses!” He takes them as he says it, clutching them in a white-knuckled grip. He turns without so much as a word and rushes back up the porch.
“Nana!” he calls as he opens the screen door. “Nana! Bri got you roses!”
Caleb has his other hand buried in my hair and his mouth against mine before the door has closed behind his son. The small package is crushed between us as he backs me against the SUV’s door. My scent breaks through my scent-blocking lotion and surrounds us. He only kisses me harder.
A car pulls up behind mine, and I pull away from Caleb. My heart races. My breathing is unsteady. Holy crap, I need Caleb to knot me. And then I need Ethan, too. Or maybe both at the same time.
Just the idea has me blushing like a damn virgin.
Caleb chuckles even as he eases away from me. His voice is breathless when he says, “I want to know exactly what thought made you flush like that.”
No way am I about to admit to fantasizing about a threesome while Emily is closing her door and combing her fingers through her hair. I push off the SUV and start toward the house, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear to keep from messing with the bow I put on the unwrapped package. Ethan doesn’t touch me as I approach him. He doesn’t kiss me or hold my hand. But his body is a wall of heat and promise just behind me.
It’s nearly as good as a kiss, I decide, as my thighs clench again.
“Brielle!” Lynn is all smiles when I step into the farmhouse. She pulls me into a warm hug. “I’m so glad you made it. I’ve been asking Emily all summer to invite you.”
Her eyes hop from me to Ethan and then back, her eyebrow rising in slow, unspoken question. My cheeks flush a dark red again. She laughs and hugs me again.
“Nana, can we make pancakes now? Aunt Emily is here, too.” Camden pulls at her leg, wedging between us with the deftness of a sly cat. “Grandpa said I have to wait for you.”
The screen door closes behind us, and Emily’s vanilla sweeps through the room, stronger than I’d expected. Ethan grunts as it hits him. When I look over my shoulder, he’s scowling at his sister. She shrugs, messes with her hair some more, and then moves around us, slipping off her shoes without missing a step. As she passes me, a more subtle scent wraps around me, something warm and spicy. It takes me a minute to pinpoint it.
Why does she smell like cloves?
Curiosity rises in me, but I squash it before it has me asking inappropriate questions. I’ll just corner her later like she did me in Jackson a couple weeks ago. Clearing my throat, I hold out the small package of chocolate covered pretzels.
Lynn’s smile is wider than before, a hint of surprise lighting her eyes.
“I couldn’t find the peanut butter ones. Jackson’s options aren’t as varied as Denver’s,” I say in lieu of an explanation.
She takes them, smoothing down the silver bow.
“Oh, you’re fine, dear,” she says. “I didn’t realize you remembered after all these years.” She squeezes my wrist even as Caleb laces his fingers with my other hand. “Thank you.”
With that, she runs her hand through Camden’s blond hair, twirling a piece around her finger. He grins and then runs back to the kitchen. Caleb pulls me along, and we follow her through the house into the heart of it—the large kitchen. Camden’s already scrambling onto an impressive-looking step stool that has three rungs and gets him nearly the same height as Lynn.
Scott looks up from the newspaper he has spread across the island, his glasses perched low on his nose. He adjusts them as he stands and approaches me. I expect a handshake, but he instead pulls me into his chest with a single arm around my shoulders.
“Nice to see you, Brielle,” he says. “What would you like to drink? And I know Lynn has a fruit salad prepped if you’re hungry.”
“Water is fine,” I say. He nods and then crosses the kitchen. I breathe deeply, trying to keep my nerves from filling my throat, and tuck myself closer into Caleb’s side. Scott pulls a glass from the open shelf beside the sink and fills it with a pitcher from the fridge.
“There’s a new pot of coffee just finishing up,” he says. “Mom used your mug, so it’s in the dishwasher right now if you want to pull it out and clean it real quick.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Ethan says. He moves from his position a half-step behind me. His hand just grazes my waist, and my breath catches. A thread of lavender weaves around me, and Caleb hides his smile against my hair. Scott hands me the glass, nodding as I offer a quiet thanks.
Within moments, the kitchen is abuzz with activity. Ethan and Scott chat about the ranch, rattling off horse names and trimming schedules before delving into a conversation regarding cattle IDs that I don’t recognize. Emily steps up to the other side of Camden, offering a third pair of hands as they work at the large gas stove that’s had a griddle placed over four of the six burners. Camden giggles as they pour the first one and he gets to wipe up the drip down the outside of the bowl and eat it.
The warmth of the family hits a nerve I didn’t even realize was still raw. Mom’s been dead for years, and I’ve had no contact with any of her siblings since she went to rehab that summer that landed me here the first time. And yet, seeing the Monroes orbit around each other, work together in such seamless unity, has an awful ball of emotion welling in my chest. I breathe through it until it doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming.
Emily laughs as Lynn mutters something under her breath, a joke I don’t hear over the sizzle of the batter on the griddle. Emily and Lynn are nearly twins, their dark hair and brown eyes that are a couple shades lighter than mine. Ethan’s coloring is the same, too. Scott’s blond hair didn’t make the genetic cut.
I wonder if Ethan’s kids would have blond hair , I muse to myself. And then I freeze, pain lancing through me before I can brace for it, more complicated than my sadness over Brett being a lying prick. Camden isn’t Ethan’s genetically, but he could have been. If Kayla hadn’t killed herself only months after Brandon was gored by that bull in the pastures, would they have had more kids?
Would I have had a place to come after Brett? Or would I have ended up being the same homewrecker I left with a cold shoulder in the courtroom in Denver?
“You good?” Caleb whispers against my ear. I can’t help but shiver.
I force the thoughts away and nod. He spreads his hand on my waist as I let more of my weight fall on him. He urges me into one of the chairs situated along the island and then sits beside me, his palm hot as a brand against my thigh where he grabs me in a proprietary hold.
“I was thinking of going up to Fool’s Canyon tomorrow,” he says, loud enough it draws the attention of the entire room. His eyes are on me, though, his chin resting on his open hand. “Would you like to go with me? We could take the horses and pack a picnic.”
The room drops into a stillness so complete, you could hear a pin drop. I purse my lips, trying to understand the sudden shift in the dynamics around me. Scott raises an eyebrow, and Ethan frowns as he shakes his head, keeping his dad quiet. I tuck away the interaction to ask him about later. Maybe. After we hash out exactly what’s happening between us and how it fits in with my dynamic with Caleb. And with Camden.
Yeah, maybe it’ll just be something that fades into the background.
“Sure,” I say. Caleb squeezes my thigh, tight enough I almost whine. “It’s one meadow I haven’t revisited.”
Caleb’s smile is bright, but it doesn’t quite cover the heavy weight of the room.
I can’t help but feel there was an unspoken conversation I didn’t have the language for.
I make it a point to end up in the barn before Caleb. I may have gotten better at tacking up a horse over the last several weeks, but there isn’t a chance in hell that I’m letting him see me struggle with Phoebe’s saddle. I suppose it’s probably time to admit she and I need to be seen by the local saddler and get fit for something custom to us both. Brandon’s old saddle fits her great, but it’s large enough to be a downright hassle for me to handle.
I mull over the best way to ask Caleb before ultimately tossing out the idea. He’d be offended at the idea of me paying for it even though I have more money than I honestly know what to do with. Scott will probably know someone, though. And he won’t have the same protective, intrinsic need to coddle or provide for me.
Maybe I’ll invite him and Lynn out to breakfast or coffee. The idea puts a smile on my face, and I hum under my breath as I pull the cross-under bridle Emily and Melissa taught me to use from the tack room. I also manage to grab the two saddle blankets Phoebe seems to prefer.
If you’d told me in April that horses have preferred equipment, I would have looked at you like you had lost your mind. Now here I am at six in the morning—before the sun has even fully risen—making sure the white and black chevron isn’t dirty so I can use it on a morning ride with an Alpha who happens to be my scent match.
An Alpha that I’ve absolutely fallen head-over-heels in love with in the span of… I count back the weeks. Less than two months. I’ve fallen in love with Caleb in less than two full months.
Wild.
Phoebe’s still quiet when I hang the bridle on the hook in front of her stall and let the saddle blankets drop to the ground. She doesn’t resist when I lead her out of the stall and tie her out so I can work through the process.
My mind quiets with each step, the brushing and the placing of the blankets and the guiding of the bridle over her ears and the easing of the bit into her mouth. She shakes her head as I’m adjusting her mane so it’s not caught in the bridle’s leather straps.
“I know it’s early,” I tell her, scratching her nose. I’m not normally out to the barn until seven-thirty during the week. She pushes into my hand, and I smile. “I’ve been told it’ll be worth it, though. If it’s not, you’re welcome to freak out on him.”
She shakes her head again. It’s not a nod, but I’m taking it as one anyway. I turn on my heel and head back to the tack room, psyching myself up for the weight of her saddle. It’s just as heavy and unruly as the first time Emily, Melissa and I went riding at the end of May. I grunt as I pull it into my belly, trying to get better leverage.
I don’t even manage to take three steps down the corridor toward Phoebe before there’s a set of arms wrapping around me, pulling the saddle from my grasp and lifting it over my head.
Fire licks through my core, and my scent grows stronger, quickly enough that my cheeks darken. I hadn’t bothered with scent blockers. It felt… unnecessary. Though now, despite being fully clothed in jeans and a T-shirt as well as the flannel shirt of Ethan’s Hudson smuggled to me before the Fourth of July, it feels like I’m standing here naked.
Caleb’s purr starts up, and my flush darkens even more.
“I can handle it,” I say without much fight.
Caleb’s already walking into the barn when I turn around, the saddle held easily in his grasp. I take a minute to soak him in, his dark wash jeans and blue shirt that’s stretched taut across his shoulders and back, the fabric hugging his skin like it’s been painted on. That tattoo on his arm is mostly visible again. He saddles Phoebe faster than I’ve ever managed.
“Are these already set for you?” he asks, motioning to one of the stirrups as I finally manage to cross the barn. “Beau tends to work her on the weekends.”
I scratch Phoebe’s nose, and she pushes into my hand.
“Yeah, I’m the only one that’s been riding her this summer,” I say.
With a nod, he drops the stirrup so it sits against Phoebe’s side and focuses on me. My breath catches in my throat.
His look… I’d burn down the world to have him look at me like that for the rest of my life. Lavender gets stronger, and he grins.
“Ready?” I ask.
He pulls me against him and kisses me, tangling a hand into my hair and running his thumb along my cheekbone.
When he pulls away, he murmurs, “Give me five minutes to saddle up Daphne.”