Chapter 10 Beau
Chapter ten
Beau
The kitchen smells like garlic and cast iron, even though the stove’s now cold and the food is tucked inside the oven staying warm while we wait. It always smells like that, actually. To be honest, sometimes I’m surprised this entire house doesn’t permanently smell like steak and potatoes.
The four of us are spread out around the big reclaimed-wood table that Lawson, Lincoln, and their Dad, Chris, built years ago.
Deep grooves run through the grain, darkened by years of elbows, beer bottles, and the occasional grease stain that just won’t scrub out no matter how hard Lawson tries.
The overhead pendants cast warm circles across the surface, leaving the rest of the kitchen in a soft glow.
It feels like the world outside, wrapping the space in something familiar. Something like home.
Jasper kicks his boots up on the rung of the empty chair next to him, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers.
Lawson leans back, ankles crossed, arms folded, as per usual.
And Lincoln… well, Lincoln looks tense. His shoulders are tense, gaze fixed out the window toward the barn.
He looks like he usually does, except… he doesn’t.
He looks almost antsy.
And for someone as settled as he is, it’s enough to make me pause.
Taking a sip of my beer, I ask, “So. Thoughts?”
Jasper huffs a laugh. “About what? The way you damn near tripped over your own feet trying to impress her all day? Or the fact that she looked at you like you’d hung the moon?”
Lawson nudges Jasper’s boot off the chair. “Knock it off.”
“I didn’t trip,” I mutter. “I stumbled with purpose.”
Lincoln snorts. It’s the first sound he’s made since the four of us walked in here.
Jasper points his beer bottle at him. “And what exactly are your thoughts about her, Captain Sourpuss?”
Lincoln’s jaw tics. “What about her?”
“There it is,” I say, unable to stop my grin.
Lawson’s smile is slow and knowing. His baby brother isn’t as aloof as he thinks he is. “You avoided her all day.”
“I didn’t avoid her.” Lincoln’s voice goes just a bit too sharp. “I was working.”
“Yeah,” Jasper replies dryly, “working real hard to avoid her.”
The tips of Linc’s ears go red, so I soften my tone. “You don’t have to be weird about her, Linc. She’s just a girl.”
“She’s not ‘just a girl,’” he mutters before scrubbing a hand over his face. “What I mean is… she’s a guest. And I didn’t want to—I don’t want to—I don’t know. Make her uncomfortable.”
Jasper raises a brow. “By doing what? Existing?”
Lawson sighs. “Alright, alright. Let him be. He’s gotta figure this one out on his own just like the rest of us.
The four of us fall quiet again, each of us taking long pulls from our beers. The room is silent for a moment, only the sound of crickets getting louder outside as night rolls in echos inside the house. Then, Lawson clears his throat. “We should talk about the other thing.”
Jasper’s jaw tightens, and Lincoln sets his bottle down, shoulders dropping. “You mean Hearthland Development and their vulture of a CEO.”
“Miles Keller,” Lawson replies, voice low. “Fuckin’ asshole hasn’t let up.”
I swallow hard. “He’s gettin’ bolder. And if he really did hire the Coates brothers to fuck with our cattle—”
“Those two idiots have been lookin’ for a reason to crawl outta whatever ditch they call a sorry excuse for a farm,” Jasper interrupts, bitterness coating his words. “If Keller’s payin’ ‘em, they’ll do whatever he wants. Like, be dumb enough to fuck with our herd.”
Lincoln drums his fingers against the table. “The injured heifers are just the start.”
“I know,” Law agrees. “And if they’re willin’ to hurt the cattle, we don’t know what else they’d pull.”
Jas shifts forward, unusually serious. “Which brings us back to Abigail.”
My stomach tightens. “She’s staying in that house. Alone.”
Lincoln inhales a shaky breath. And for someone who hasn’t even attempted to meet her, he looks rather worried.
“She’s on our ranch,” Lawson says. Voice dropping into that quiet steel that only comes out when he’s genuinely worried for someone he cares about. “That means she’s our responsibility.”
I nod in agreement. “We should take shifts. Make sure—”
A delicate knock rattles through the house, and we all freeze.
Jasper’s boots hit the floor.
Lincoln pushes back from the table.
Lawson’s already standing.
She’s here.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Lincoln stands and takes a step toward the direction of his room. Lawson spins and points a finger at his younger brother. “Don’t you dare. You don’t have to know how to handle her yet, but you will be cordial about it. Got it?”
Lincoln’s nostrils flare, but he nods, and Lawson heads back toward the front door. Making my way over to him, I clap Linc on the shoulder. “Ease up, bud. She won’t bite. At least I don’t think.”
Before he can respond, Jasper mumbles, “Hmmm, that sounds like fun.”
A low rumble resembling laughter slips out of Lawson, but he schools his expression as he reaches for the doorknob. His shoulders rise, but never fall, and I swear it feels like the whole damn house is holding its breath with him.
Finally, he pulls the door open to find Abigail standing there in the soft porch light, freshly showered, hair still damp and loose over her shoulders, cheeks pink from the cool night air.
She’s changed into a simple sweater and jeans, nothing fancy, but somehow looks like she belongs in the doorway of this ranch house more than any of us ever have.
Lawson’s smile is warm as he greets her. “You look—” He fumbles over his words for a moment, and I look over to find Jasper’s expression matching mine, lips curled in trying not to laugh. “Feel better?” he finally spits out.
“Much. I haven’t had a shower that refreshing in I don’t even know how long,” she replies as the pink on her cheeks deepens.
“Being outside all day has that effect on you.” Stepping to the side, Lawson gestures toward the three of us. “Come on in.”
Abigail steps inside and slips off her shoes, her feet adorned in warm socks.
Lawson rubs at the back of his neck. “You don’t have to take those off if you don’t want to. We’re more of a shoes-on household. Everywhere except our rooms at least.”
“That’s alright. I like walking around the house barefoot,” she answers as she pulls at the cuff of her sweater.
For a moment, the image of her walking around this house in the dead of summer, barefoot, in denim shorts, a tank top, hair pulled up in a messy bun flashes through my brain. Creamy skin on display for me to run my hands over. What a sight that would be.
Easy, boy.
Her gaze drifts around the entryway, like she’s trying to memorize every detail. As she takes small steps around the area, the scent of her shampoo, clean and sweet, floats in with her, cutting through the lingering notes of an otherwise overly masculine space.
Jasper leans back casually against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, trying way too hard to look unbothered, while Lincoln stands stiff as one of the fence posts outside as he waits for her eyes to land on him.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I give her one of my signature grins.
“Hope you’re hungry. Law and I did the cooking. ”
“Which is the only reason the house is still standing,” Lawson adds, shooting Jasper and Linc a look. “These two can’t cook for shit.”
“I can grill, fuck you very much,” Jasper says in defense.
“You burn,” Lawson corrects.
Lincoln mutters, “I can follow a recipe.”
“Uh huh,” I deadpan. “Like the time you could have used one of your pancakes as a hockey puck?”
Abigail laughs, it’s soft at first until it bubbles out of her louder before she can tamper it down. And damn, if that sound doesn’t land somewhere deep in my chest.
Lawson shoots his brother a glare over Abigail’s shoulder.
Linc sighs before stepping toward her and reaching out his hand.
She looks at his hand, then up at his face, her laughter stopping the moment her eyes meet his.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Lincoln. The better looking Taylor brother.”
And I’ll be damned… self-induced hermit or not, Linc still remembers how to turn on the charm. Either that or she just naturally has that effect around here.
Or a little of both.
She stares at him for a moment, full pink lips popped open, before she must catch herself staring.
Snapping her mouth closed, she swallows harshly before slowly wrapping her hand in his.
“Hi. I’m Any—Abigail. I’m Abigail. Thank you for letting me stay here,” she says so softly I almost can’t even hear her.
Lincoln stops shaking her hand but doesn’t let go.
“Any friend of our Josephine’s is a friend of ours.
You-you can stay here as long as you like.
” The corners of Lawson and Jasper’s lips lift, as do mine.
Because for all of the hangups Lincoln has, and rightfully so, you can always count on him to put his shit to the side and be one of the best. He’s good down to his very core.
Finally, the two of them let go of one another, and Lawson gestures toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. We were just waitin’ on you.”
She hesitates, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to keep you all waiting.”
“You didn’t,” I say quickly. “We were just talking about… well, we were just talkin’.”
As she moves toward the kitchen, her eyes widen as she takes everything in.
The old farmhouse sink, the pine cabinets we built by hand, the butcher block table scarred by years of use.
The overhead lights cast a warm golden glow over everything, softening the hard edges, making the place look almost cozy.
Which was the goal after all. Despite the place itself being brand new, the four of us took great care in bringing in the old.
After all, that’s what built this place. Everything that once was.
Jasper grabs another beer from the fridge and asks, “You want something to drink, Red?”
Her eyes narrow at the nickname as she tries and fails to hide her grin. “Water’s fine.”
Lincoln moves automatically, grabbing a glass and filling it from the tap. His hands are steady, but his jaw is tight. Abigail offers him a grateful smile as he hands it over, and something loosens in his shoulders, if only a fraction.
We all settle around the table, the four of us in our usual spots, with Abigail on one end opposite Lawson. It feels oddly formal for a group that’s known each other most of our lives, but she doesn’t seem even the slightest bit intimidated. More… curious.
And a little nervous.
“How’re you feelin’ after your first day?” Lawson asks gently.
She exhales, the sound tired but proud. “Exhausted. And happy.”
The three of us grin, but Lincoln looks away. I don’t miss the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, though.
Jasper raises his bottle. “Welcome to ranch life.”
Her smile blooms, slow and sure, and suddenly the entire house feels warmer.
Yeah… she fits here.
Better than I thought she would.
Better than any of us may be ready for.