Chapter Ten #2
“Leave the personal protection to us. You continue with your work here on the ranch. And if you’re up for it, there’s plenty more work at the training facility.” Gray watched him carefully, and Crew was good enough at playing poker that he knew when someone was trying to read a tell.
Only he didn’t have a tell in this game. He was solid in his conviction that he was strong enough—healed enough—to be here.
“I’m in.”
Several of the guys eyed him with respect. Willow sent him a soft smile that made him think she must look at her brothers with the same expression, part sisterly, part motherly.
The meeting broke up after that, and Crew considered going straight to the garden just to see Fern. But he was surprised when his feet carried him to the covered outdoor patio where Gray’s fiancée, Honor, was conducting art therapy.
Crew wasn’t a fan of arts and crafts. Those tiny little beads drove him mad.
While painting wasn’t so bad, the horses could paint better than he did.
Still, he found he needed the calm he gained from listening to Honor’s voice as she instructed the group and from working with his hands, even if what he produced went straight into the trash.
Honor gave him a smile as he slipped into his usual seat at the end of one table. A glance at the supplies on the table revealed they were doing beadwork again. Honor’s favorite. And though he disliked it, he grew engrossed with selecting beads and placing them in a shallow tray.
He chose shades of green. The color of the top Fern wore that day. The bright spring green of the plant she was named after. The color of the pines on the mountains he loved so much. And more just because he knew she’d like them.
He was so deep in the task of creating a bracelet that when the scent of Fern’s perfume hit his nostrils, he thought he’d conjured her. He jerked his head up to see her walking toward him, a cute little crinkle between her brows and a bemused smile on her beautiful face.
As their gazes locked, his heart jogged in his chest and never settled. It kept on beating out of rhythm until she slid into a seat beside him.
“I didn’t know you liked art.”
“I don’t.” He flashed her a grin.
Before they could say more, Honor spotted Fern and hurried over. He listened to them talk about art and gardening. Suddenly, Fern let out a gasp. He twisted toward her, prepared to step between her and danger.
Fern’s eyes widened, and she blinked up at him in surprise. She waved toward Honor’s hand. “I was only gasping at Honor’s engagement ring. It’s stunning.”
Honor grinned, like all women when complimented on such things, and she showed off the diamond, twisting her wrist to let the sunlight catch the facets.
While they discussed settings and white gold versus platinum, Crew finished his bracelet.
“When is the wedding?” Fern asked.
“Two weeks.”
“Only two? You must be so excited!”
Honor responded that she was planning things last minute, which seemed to be a tradition in the Malone family.
From across the patio came a low crash. They all looked up to see that one of the veterans who struggled with dexterity had dropped his bowl. It landed on the concrete and beads scattered.
“Oh! No worries, Ryan. Let me help.” Honor tossed Fern a smile and rushed to his aid, leaving Crew alone with Fern.
Their gazes connected, and he felt the electric shock to his core.
Her gaze darted to his mouth, and she ran the tip of her tongue across her own. “You finished your project.”
He nodded and reached for her hand. Her fingers were smooth despite her job. When he slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, her jaw dropped.
“Crew! This is beautiful!” She drew her wrist upward to study the beads. “How did you know green is my favorite color?”
He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips or the way his eyes went soft when he looked at her. “Lucky guess.”
“I’m…so touched…that you made this for me.” She slipped her hand up to his jaw and stared deep into his eyes. “I don’t have anything to give you.”
If only she knew. If only he had the guts to say how she made him feel like a better man every minute he spent in her company.
He covered her hand with his own. “You already have.”
* * * * *
Fern pottered around the greenhouse, trying to let the homey tasks soothe her soul.
Things were calming down since her car broke down.
It was still in the shop, but Crew told her yesterday that the authorities verified that Chris wasn’t in Willowbrook and most likely wasn’t responsible for the truck, though it wasn’t totally ruled out yet.
There were no new incidents at work with objects showing up in the wrong places. No strange trucks lingered too long outside her apartment except for the Black Heart Ranch trucks, but the logo on the side gave Fern a tingle of warmth that the team was looking out for her.
Customers came and went, hands full of flats of plants and bags of soil, asking about sun exposure and watering schedules and whether it was too late to plant basil.
Everything was completely ordinary.
Fern found herself alert for danger anyway, but nothing pricked at her nerves. By early afternoon, the tension she carried since her car broke down eased enough that she could breathe fully again.
She hung up her gardening apron, clocked out and climbed into the car that Willow had insisted she borrow until her own was repaired.
That was when she realized just how the Malone family had become so successful—because they got what they wanted. Arguing with Willow was like arguing with the mountain. She smiled every time she thought about their exchange.
She drove to the Black Heart Ranch with the windows cracked, letting the warm, fragrant air wash through the car.
Crew was already outside when she arrived, sleeves rolled up, the late sun catching on his forearms. Every time she spotted that new tattoo, she got a little breathless.
Since so much had happened the past couple days, she hadn’t asked him about the art.
But seeing it now made her body tighten all over with anticipation of his touch.
Several of the guys were with him, hauling lumber for what looked like a fence repair, laughing as they argued over measurements. Fern paused just outside the old fence, taking it in.
This—this was what safety looked like. Not security cameras or locks or constant vigilance. Just people working together, building something meant to grow.
Crew spotted her immediately. His face changed when he did, some of the lines on his forehead smoothing, and his eyelids drooped lower like the world sharpened into better focus when she showed up.
The pull of his muscles against his jeans made her body come alive. He stepped up in front of her. “You done already?”
“Early shift today.” She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “I thought I’d…hang around, if that’s okay.”
His mouth curved. “You can shadow me all afternoon if you want.”
She nodded, warmth unfurling in her chest, and followed him as he worked. She handed out water bottles when the guys took a break, listening to their teasing and banter—and learning from those who didn’t say as much too.
She stayed close to Crew but didn’t cling, and he didn’t hover. He just existed beside her, solid and steady, his presence a quiet constant…one she could get used to.
Later, they headed toward the pens to check on the animals. Fern loved this part of the ranch—the rustle of leather on the horses, the earthy smells, the rhythm of caring for them.
Crew moved with easy confidence, checking gates and feed, speaking softly to the animals like they understood every word.
Navy whipped around the corner of the barn with Rhae at her side, short legs churning faster than her body seemed to be able to keep up.
“Cwewww!”
“Hey, little one.” He scooped her up in one arm and listened to her jabber in baby talk about the neigh-neighs.
Rhae beamed at Fern. “Hi, Fern. Looks like you’re an official part of the Black Heart now.”
Fern’s cheeks heated knowing that others saw what was happening between her and Crew, and was the one thing they were dancing around. “I love it here.”
Crew’s hand brushed the small of her back, sending a heated shiver through her. They all talked a minute, then Navy squirmed to be put down, and she immediately took off for the pasture.
“Gotta run!” Rhae chuckled and took off after her offspring.
Afterward, Crew ducked into the barn to make a few minor repairs. Fern followed him inside the dim and cool space, watching dust motes drifting in the slanted light. He climbed partway up a ladder, assessing a loose board, and held his hand out without looking.
“Hammer,” he said.
She placed it in his palm, their fingers grazing. The contact lingered longer than necessary.
They fell into an easy rhythm after that. He worked. She passed him nails and tools. Sometimes he explained what he was fixing, sometimes they worked in companionable silence. Fern leaned against a post, watching the way his body moved—efficient, sure, every motion purposeful.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his muscled arms.
“You haven’t told me about the new tattoo.”
He went still for a beat. Then he fit another new board into the spot where he removed the old. “It’s not finished. It still needs shading.”
She studied the lines. “A wolf.”
“It was my call sign. In the Navy.”
She didn’t know if she should say more, so remained silent and let him decide whether he wanted to speak. After a long minute, he went on. “The bear in the constellation represents my copilot. I was Wolf and he was Bear.”
“And the mountain and trees? Is that just artistic license?”
“I suppose it means something to me, the same way the ranch does.”
She stepped closer, gaze snagging on the smaller details. Then she saw it. The unmistakable lines of…
A fern.
Her breath stopped.
When she looked up, his gaze was on her face, intense.