Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Abigail
There’s warmth everywhere. The kind that makes me want to burrow deeper into this mattress and never move.
Then there’s weight. It’s solid and comforting at my back, an arm draped over my waist holding me tight.
My cheek is pressed against something warm and firm, rising and falling steadily beneath me.
Beau.
One of his hands is threaded through my hair, fingers tangled like he fell asleep that way and never let go.
Lawson is behind me, spooned close enough that there’s no mistaking it—his thigh hooked over mine, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
My body is deliciously sore. Every small movement feels slower.
Heavier. But not in a bad way. In a way that reminds me that they were there.
My brain begins to catalog, and it hits me how different it feels to do that now as opposed to when I came here.
There’s beard burn along my neck and jaw. A dull, tender soreness between my legs that makes my toes curl when I shift even a fraction of an inch.
Physically, I feel both wrecked and put back together again.
But emotionally?
That’s harder to categorize.
I feel almost… overwhelmed. But not in the way that makes me want to retreat into myself. It’s in the way that makes me want to bask in it. To soak up every emotion and feeling coursing through me, because I haven’t felt like this in, well, ever.
I’m just starting to stretch—carefully—when I hear it.
A sound that does not belong to someone in this bed.
I crack one eye open and nearly scream at the sight of someone staring at me.
Then I realize it’s just Jasper.
He’s standing at the foot of the bed, mug of coffee in hand, wearing a snug black T-shirt and black sweats like he literally just rolled out of my dreams. His hair is pushed back like he dragged his fingers through it one too many times, and his expression is—
Oh.
That shit-eating, devilish grin.
I jerk instinctively, which causes a chain reaction.
Beau jolts awake with a confused grunt, and Lawson groans like the world has inconvenienced him by being awake.
“What the fu—” Beau starts, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it at Jasper’s head before rolling over and burying his face into the mattress.
Jasper dodges it with ease, because of course he does. “Well, well, well,” he drawls, taking another sip of his coffee. “Looks like Linc and I missed all the fun.”
Lawson flops back dramatically and shoves his pillow over his face. “Honey,” he mumbles, “make him go away.”
“Nah,” I say as I look Jas up and down before winking at him. “I don’t think I will.”
Jasper’s grin widens. Setting his mug down on Lawson’s dresser like he owns the place, he, despite both men groaning louder, crawls up the foot of the bed.
“Jas,” Beau growls. “Don’t you dare.”
Too late.
Jasper crawls further up the bed until he reaches me. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. “Mornin’, Red,” he murmurs against my mouth. “There’s coffee downstairs.”
I smile despite myself. “Hmmm. Morning. You’re really on one this morning, aren’t ya?”
“Sure am,” he says proudly before climbing off the bed. He grabs his coffee and heads toward the door, but on his way he reaches down and slaps Beau on the ass through the sheets. “Get up and make us some breakfast, would ya?”
“I really hate him sometimes,” Beau mutters.
From the hallway, Jas calls back, “Love you too, buddy!”
Silence follows his mischievous chuckle, broken only by Beau and Lawson both leaning in to kiss me softly. One at my temple, and the other at my shoulder.
“Morning,” Beau says softy.
Lawson presses another kiss to my hair. “How’re you feelin’?”
I smile. “Sore. Warm. Good. So so good.”
“That’s a win,” Beau says as he runs his hand along my thigh beneath the covers.
Eventually they convince themselves to get out of bed. Beau heads to his room to get dressed, and Lawson disappears briefly to what I’m assuming is the laundry room before returning with one of his favorite T-shirts and a pair of thick wool socks.
I pull them on and sit cross-legged on the bed while he moves around the room, finally taking the time to really look around.
His room is simple. It has the same wood flooring as the rest of the house.
Neutral bedding. A heavy wood dresser that looks as old as the dining room table.
A few framed photos of horses, the ranch, and one of all four of them from what looks to be when they were teenagers, sunburned and grinning like idiots. It feels lived in. Grounded. Like him.
From downstairs comes the unmistakable sound of pans clattering and raised voices. Lawson sighs. “We should probably hurry before Jas and Linc actually try to cook breakfast.”
I laugh, before throwing my hair in a scrunchy that Lawson conveniently had a jar of in his bathroom.
The same kind I found in the guesthouse bathroom when I moved in.
When I jokingly asked him if he put scrunchies in every bathroom of their house just for me, he looked at me deadpan and said, “Just the ones in our bedrooms. There’s extra toothbrushes, face wash, and shampoo and conditioner for you too. ”
That was it.
End of.
Like the notion was the easiest thing in the world. Like it was just that simple.
But as he watches me move about the bathroom, and a satisfied smile takes over his face, I realize what I’m starting to feel for them is anything but simple.
I’m halfway down the stairs when Jasper’s voice floats over the low hum of a country song that Beau’s singing along too—something soft and twangy that makes the whole house feel a little slower.
Lawson’s hand rests warm and steady at the small of my back as his T-shirt hangs off one shoulder and brushes against my thighs with every step. The entire moment feels so… domestic.
Which is a word I haven’t associated with my life since I was a child.
We round the corner into the kitchen, and Beau spots me first.
He’s already at the island, whisk in hand, sleeves pushed up, forearms dusted with flour. The moment his eyes land on me, the whisk slips from his fingers and clatters softly against the bowl.
He just stares.
Jasper notices immediately. Then Lincoln.
Their heads turn in unison, following Beau’s gaze, all conversation effectively dying mid-sentence as their stares lock onto me. I stop short, suddenly hyperaware of everything—bare legs, too big shirt, messy hair.
“What?” I ask, confused, as a nervous laugh slips out.
Lawson leans down, his mouth brushing against my ear. “They haven’t gotten to see you like this yet,” he murmurs. His voice low and still a little raspy with sleep. “Told you, Honey. Seein’ you like this in the mornin’… you’re perfect.”
Heat blooms in my chest—and between my legs.
Lincoln’s the first to move. He approaches slowly, eyes thoughtful, soft in a way that let’s me know he’s seeing all of me. His hands come up gently, thumbs brushing my jaw. “You look…” he says quietly. “You look like you belong here.”
Then, he kisses me. He kisses me deep and sure, like what he just said is both a fact and a promise. And when he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine for a brief moment before he steps aside.
Jasper doesn’t give me nearly that much breathing room. “Jesus.” A grin already tugs at his mouth as he rapidly closes the distance. “I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to let you go back to the guesthouse if you keep comin’ down the stairs like that.”
He kisses me too—quick, warm, a little smug—hands braced on my hips, anchoring himself to me before he eventually pulls away.
And when he does, I find Beau still staring.
It takes him another moment to gather his bearings before he chuckles and shakes his head as he reaches for another mug.
“Yeah,” he says easily, pouring coffee like his hands aren’t shaking just a little.
“I could definitely get used to this.” He presses the mug into my hands, fingers lingering long enough to make my breath hitch. “Careful. It’s hot.”
“That’s an understatement,” Jas says from his spot at the counter. My eyes find him and he hits me with a wink.
The five of us settle around the island as Beau finishes the pancakes, laughter filling the space. Plates slide across the counter. Coffee gets refilled. Someone steals bacon off some else’s plate.
Like I said… domestic.
At some point, Lawson clears his throat.
He glances at the guys first, hesitant, like he’s checking a silent agreement between all of them. Jasper nods. Beau gives a small smile. Lincoln’s eyes soften.
Then, Lawson looks at me.
“Christmas is in two days,” he says gently.
“So it is,” I say, momentarily letting my eyes wander to the Christmas tree they have set up in the corner of the living room.
“We were wonderin’… if you’d want to stay here? At the big house. Just for the next few days.”
My heart stutters.
“You don’t really have much set up at the guesthouse as far as decorations goes,” Beau adds. “And nobody should wake up alone on Christmas morning.”
“And before you start, you wouldn’t be an imposition,” Linc says firmly. “We want you here.”
Jasper grins. “Plus, we’re not doin’ much besides chores and eatin’ too much food. Might as well do it together.”
I swallow, emotion pressing tight behind my ribs. “I’d like that,” I say softly. “I’ll—um—I’ll go pack a small bag after breakfast.”
Lawson’s hand finds mine under the counter, squeezing once. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because we weren’t gonna give you much of a choice.”