Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Abigail
Lucy is a warm, snoring lump at my feet, her tiny paws occasionally twitching against my ankle as if she’s chasing something in her dreams. Lying on my back, I fold my arms over my stomach and stare up at the wooden beams stretching across the guesthouse ceiling.
Yesterday plays through my head on repeat just like it did in my dreams all night long.
Meeting Lincoln and Jasper. Dinner in the big house.
Beau dropping the mug, and the way the sound shattered something inside me the moment the ceramic crashed against the floor.
And four men moving toward me not with anger, not with raised voices or flinching disgust, but with steady hands, soft words, and space to breathe.
It doesn’t feel real.
And yet… it feels more real than anything has in a very long time.
I drag a hand over my face. “What is wrong with me?” I whisper into the otherwise quiet room.
I shouldn’t feel this comfortable around strangers. Especially men. Especially men, this big, this intimidating, this… right.
Images of Lawson flash through my brain.
His broad shoulders stretching his shirt, dark brown hair falling a little too perfectly, that stubble framing the sharp line of his jaw.
And those brown eyes—dark, unyielding, steady—always noticing more than he lets on.
He’s tall, solid, and moves like he’s been carrying responsibility on his shoulders since birth. And maybe he has.
Something about being near him feels grounding.
But when he looks at me… I don’t know. I just feel seen.
Lincoln is different. Warier. Carved from the same family stone but with softer edges, he desperately tries to hide.
He walked me through the house last night with the stiff, polite posture of a man who would rather be anywhere else.
And yet, the moment I teased him, that hidden spark came out to play.
The crooked nose, the warm but guarded bright green eyes.
He’s beautiful, in that rugged, quietly tortured way.
And he makes something flutter in my stomach that I do not have a name for.
Then there’s Beau. Warmth. Pure warmth wrapped in muscle, tattoos, and gravelly humor.
Hands that could snap a board in half, yet ones I know would hold me with a gentleness I’ve never known.
And when he asked if I was okay… god. There was something in his voice that made me want to lean into him and stay there forever.
Something that let me know that he’s all too familiar with feeling out of control because of the world around him.
My cheeks heat at the thought of the fourth man. Jasper.
What I felt last night when he was sitting next to me, and the way his eyes softened when he talked to me about his family.
The pain hidden behind every word, even when he tried to sound matter-of-fact about it all.
My experiences felt woven into his somehow.
Like he trusted me with a part of himself he doesn’t show anyone, knowing that I would relate.
And that moment at the door—the way his eyes dropped to my mouth, the way he leaned in, slowly, carefully, like he was savoring the moment for everything it was worth.
God, I felt that straight through my bones.
Did he really want to kiss me?
Did I really want him to?
Yes.
And that terrifies me.
Because I barely know them. Because my life is cracked in places I’m scared to look at. Because the idea of wanting someone—four someones—is something I should run from.
Right?
But when I think of Lawson’s steady gaze, Beau’s warmth, Lincoln’s reluctant smile, Jasper’s raw vulnerability, my chest aches almost as much as my head spins.
It’s times like these when I don’t want anybody but her.
What would my sister tell me to do?
My throat tightens at the thought of Katerina. I blink rapidly, staring up at the ceiling until the tears burn themselves out. If she were here—if she hadn’t been taken from me—she’d know exactly what I should do. She always did.
But she isn’t
She’s not here, and she never will be.
And I’m alone with feelings I don’t know how to categorize, much less make any sense of.
A sound outside breaks through the spiral. A low whinny. Male voices. Boots on gravel.
The guys are already up.
Of course they are.
Pushing upright, immediately waking Lucy, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the dresser, followed by my few stray pieces of clothes sticking out of one of the drawers. My last pair of clean jeans. My last warm top. Sure, I could do laundry, but I’m going to need more.
I need clothes.
Which means I need to ask one of them to take me to town.
Hell, is there even a place I can buy clothes in town?
I groan into my palms.
After getting ready as fast as I can, I meet an excited Lucy at the front door and immediately let her outside to get to work before sliding on my Converse.
I make a mental note to myself to look for better footwear.
I may not know much about ranching, but I do know enough to have figured out in just one day that I’ll need more appropriate footwear.
The morning air is crisp and cold enough to nip at my nose today. Sunlight stretches over the pastures in long golden bands. And there they are, spread out in front of me, already lost in their own separate worlds.
Beau’s bent over a horse’s front hoof, tools I’ve never seen before laid out neatly beside him. His forearms flex as he files an old shoe loose, and he glances up with a soft smile when he spots me.
Jasper is tightening what I learned yesterday is a cinch on Destiny. The morning sun catches on the strands of his dark hair as it falls over his forehead. He doesn’t say anything, but the way his gaze drags down my body and back up again makes my breath shorten.
Lincoln slips out of the house wearing a button-down with a canvas vest over top and carrying a briefcase, which looks entirely out of place in its environment, yet so right in his hands. He gives me a small nod—almost shy—before heading toward what I’m assuming is his truck.
Lawson’s leaning against the fence, arms crossed over his chest, watching the others work like he’s mentally taking stock of everything and everyone all at once. And when he looks at me, something warm flickers across his face before he has a chance to tamp it down.
“Morning,” he calls. His voice deep and rough. All too casual to be accidental.
Walking toward them, I offer him a “morning,” as I try not to melt at the sight in front of me.
I mean, every one of them looks like the cover of a damn country western catalogue.
Beau wipes sweat from his brow despite the chilly temperature. “Sleep okay?”
“I… yeah,” I reply, giving a small nod. “Thanks for asking.”
He offers a soft smile, but his dimples are as strong as ever. “Glad to hear it.”
My gaze flicks to the tools at his feet. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, this?” He taps the horse’s lifted hoof. “Part of my job around here. I’m the ranch farrier. Means I trim hooves, shape and fit shoes, make sure everybody stays solid and sound. Ranch this size, there’s always someone who needs attention.”
I can’t help it, but my eyes are glued to the way his forearm flexes as he works the horse’s hoof as it’s propped between his muscular legs. And I’m assuming I’m not as subtle as I think I am because his grin only grows the longer I stand there.
Clearing my throat, I look to Lawson. “I uh… actually need to go into town today.” I tug on my sleeve. “I need clothes. And probably some different shoes. Some of my favorite snacks would be good. And… well… everything.”
Beau drops the horse’s leg and stands with a small stretch. A grimace of sympathy takes over his face. “Wish I could take you, Darlin’, but I’ve got six horses to reshoe today, and I can’t fall behind.”
Lincoln lifts a hand without slowing. “Meeting at ten. I’m already late.”
Jasper just chuckles. “I’d offer, but I’ve gotta check the herd in the south pasture. Make sure we aren’t missing more injured cattle.”
Three pairs of eyes slide toward Lawson.
He stares back at them like they’ve betrayed him.
“I—” he starts.
Beau smirks. “You’re free, ain’t ya, Law?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t free,” he mutters.
“You also didn’t say you were,” Jasper jabs, tightening Destiny’s reins.
Lincoln climbs into his truck. “Just take her, man.”
Lawson looks at me again. A little reluctant. A whole lot flustered. And something underneath all of that twists in my chest.
“Yeah,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “I’ll take you.”
My stomach does an embarrassing little flip.
Jasper swings onto Destiny’s back, Lincoln’s truck rumbles to life, and Beau returns to the horse with a reassuring pat to its neck.
Lawson jerks his head toward the black F-150. “Come on, Abigail.”
I laugh under my breath at his exasperation over the idea of spending a day shopping and fall into step behind him.