Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Lincoln
The first thing I notice when I walk into the kitchen is the roses—deep red in full bloom, overflowing from what looks like a brand-new vase.
Abigail stands at the sink with her back to me, hips swaying softly to the music drifting from her phone propped beside the faucet as she washes dishes.
The kitchen smells like sugar, butter, chocolate, and a fresh pot of coffee. She’s wearing one of Beau’s old flannels, sleeves rolled up, the hem brushing the tops of her bare thighs as she hums along to the song, lost in the moment.
Quietly, I toe off my boots, lean against the wall, and take her in.
Sunlight spills across her, tracing the easy rhythm of how she moves, the flannel hanging loose on her body.
It hides more than it shows, but it doesn’t stop me from imagining the rest. My jaw tightens, hands flexing at my sides, the urge to step behind her and touch her becoming harder to ignore by the second.
To hold on and never let go. And yet… part of me doesn’t want to move.
Entirely to entranced with the sight of her.
Everything I’ve done. Everything I’ll ever do. It’s for this. This moment, right here.
“Smells good in here,” I say loud enough for her to hear me over the music.
Abigail jumps then laughs, turning just enough to look at me over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes brighten as she smiles at me.
My god, that smile.
“Dessert for tomorrow. Brownies.”
“Hmmm. Lawson will be thrilled.” Pushing off the door frame, I stalk toward her.
She dries her hands on a dish towel and fully turns to face me. Once I reach her, my hands immediately slide across those hips I was so desperate to touch just a second ago—and she feels as amazing as I knew she would.
Raising a brow, she asks, “Did you leave the other three to fend for themselves?”
I smile. “Nah. They got a call about a last-minute auction in Billings. Figured they’d go snag a few cattle so they could be back at a decent time tonight and not have to worry about it tomorrow. They’ll be back after dinner.”
“And they didn’t want to say goodbye?”
“I told them to just head out quick so they could get back. Plus”—I lean down so my lips dust against hers—“I selfishly wanted you all to myself.”
She smiles against my mouth. “Sneaky, sneaky, Mr. Taylor. I knew you were a good lawyer.”
A chuckle slips free before I kiss her softly for a moment. After I’ve had my fill of her—for now—I ask, “Who are the roses from?”
Her smile spreads even wider. “Your dad.”
I blink. “…Excuse me?”
Her laugh rings through the kitchen. “Said he wanted to make sure he got me some, just in case the four of you didn’t.”
What the fuck?
We would never. For the love of God, he dragged us into town once a week to get Mama flowers the entire time we lived with them. We know better. “I—he—we would never—”
She laughs again. “Would you relax. He went to town this morning to grab some for Billie for tomorrow, and he grabbed me some too. You actually just missed him. It was really sweet.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I roll my eyes dramatically. “Leave it to Chris Taylor to try to steal our woman.
She scoffs and swats at my chest. “Oh! While they’re out, could you text them and ask them to pick up some new coffee? That’s the second pot I’ve made, and it still tastes off.”
She gestures to the full cup sitting next to the sink, so I reach around her and take a sip. Besides the fact that she’s put entirely too much cream and sugar in it, it tastes fine to me. But I don’t bother arguing.
Abigail wants new coffee, so she’ll get new coffee. “Sure thing, Sweetheart.”
She spends the next few minutes telling me about her phone call with Kat this morning.
And while I’m still not thrilled with her sister, I can already see there’s a lightness in Abigail that wasn’t there this morning.
Not only that, but knowing her sister is safe and out of harm’s way is one less thing we have to deal with.
So, I take it as a small win.
I’m just sad this is where her relationship with her sister is at.
I know how important Kat is to Abigail. I couldn’t imagine my life without my brother.
Or Jasper and Beau, for that matter. The love you get from your sibling is unlike a love you can get from anyone else.
But if this is the best the two of them can do for now, then we have to trust their choices enough not to interfere.
I brush my thumb along her jaw. “You okay?”
She nods. “Yeah. I think so.”
I study her face, looking for cracks. There aren’t any.
I’ve gotten good at spotting them.
The most recent being Caleb.
The thought of his name hits like it always does—sudden and sharp and unwanted.
I don’t let my expression change, though. Because I’ve practiced that too.
Killing a man doesn’t leave you. Not really. It lives somewhere under your skin. In the quiet moments. In the way you assess every move a person makes from here on out, not only once, but twice. It’s in everything I do now.
I don’t regret it.
I didn’t that day, and I still don’t now.
He could’ve hurt Lawson. Could have hurt her. Could have hurt the future we have because of her.
I did what had to be done.
But there’s a difference between not regretting something and not feeling it.
And boy, do I feel it.
They have all asked me time and time again if I’m fine. And I am fine. I’m as fine as I’ll ever be, knowing the death of another person is on my hands.
I did what had to be done, I repeat to myself.
I did it for her. For my family. For our ranch. I did it for me.
Abigail’s hand slides into mine, pulling me back. “Hey, where’d you go just now?”
“Just thinking,” I answer softly.
“That’s dangerous.”
I huff a laugh. “You dancin’ around the kitchen like that is what’s dangerous,” I say, desperate to move on from my mental spiral.
Her eyebrow arches, clearly not buying my tactic, but she chooses to play along anyway. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She leans in closer. “Explain.”
“You sway your hips like that when it’s just the two of us home…” She waits. “Makes a man think about pinning you against this counter.”
Her breath catches just slightly. “Someone’s in a playful mood today.”
“Been that way since about a half hour ago.”
“What a coincidence. Did that happen to be when Jas, Law, and Beau left, and you figured out we’d be all alone in this big ol’ house?”
Smart girl.
“Maybe.”
Her cheeks pink as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and kiss along the slope of her neck.
“You look so beautiful like this,” I whisper against her skin.
I let my fingers trail through her hair slowly before giving a few strands a gentle tug, tilting her head so I can have better access.
“The sun hits you just right. Turns this hair of yours gold. Like it’s stuck somewhere between wanting to be fire or honey. ”
Her breathing changes. “Linc…”
“And your freckles,” I continue, kissing across her cheek. “I swear I’ve memorized every one.”
“You have not.”
“I have,” I whisper in her other ear. “And those eyes… hazel’s too simple a word for them. They change with your mood. Did you know that?”
She swallows. “No.”
“I swear they look greener when you’re trying to be stubborn. More brown when you’re feeling shy.”
“And right now?”
I smile. “Right now they’re the perfect mixture of the two.”
She laughs, but it’s raspier this time. “I think you’re full of it.”
I nip at her neck. “Maybe I am. But I’m certain about one thing.”
She waits.
“I’m certain that I love you.”
The words don’t stumble out.
They don’t surprise me.
They don’t scare me.
They feel anchored. Planted deep. Like the fence posts that surround this land. Now part of who I am.
“You love me?”
“I do. I’ve loved you for a while,” I admit.
“I know the others have said it to you. I’ve heard it.
But I just—” I shake my head, trying to think of the best way to say what I want to say.
“I want you to be the last person I ever say those three words to. You’re it for me, Sweetheart.
Every bit of who I am now belongs to you. For the rest of my days, I. Am. Yours.”
Her hands grip my shirt as she whispers my name again.
“I don’t say things unless I mean them,” I continue. “And I don’t make commitments unless I plan to stand by them.” I hold her face in my hands. “I love you, Abigail Adams. I love you and the life we’re going to build with you.”
She exhales a ragged breath and utters four words that could bring me to my knees. “I love you too.”
I don’t give her a chance to say anything else before my lips find hers.
Her fingers curl into my hair as she takes a small step closer, leaving not an inch of space between us.
The kiss deepens as we pour into each other.
It’s not rushed or frantic, but it’s not innocent either.
Reaching down, I slide my hand along her thigh, feeling the bare skin there, and she inhales sharply. “What’s it gonna be, Sweetheart? Honey or fire?”
She nips at my bottom lip. “With you, Lincoln. Fire. Always.”
Such a good girl.
I lift her onto the edge of the counter in one smooth motion. She laughs—surprised, delighted, and turned on.
“What is it with you and kitchens?”
“What can I say? I want what I want when I want it,” I murmur before kissing along her jaw, then down her neck.
“Beau isn’t going to like us doing this in the kitchen where we eat.”
“Beau fucked you on my desk. He’ll get over it.”
She giggles, but it’s quickly replaced by a moan as I drag my tongue along her collarbone.
“I’ve been patient,” I say against her soft skin. “Very patient.”
“You gonna keep talking or you gonna do something about it?” she challenges softly.
I grin against her throat. “Oh, I’m gonna do something about it.”
But I pull back before things go too far.
Because I want her aching for me.
I want the anticipation to stretch.
So, I brush my thumb across her pouting bottom lip. “But not until tonight. If you’re good.”
Her brows knit slightly. “Tonight?”
“After dinner. After we pretend we’re civilized.”
“You’re evil,” she says as she narrows her eyes at me. But I can tell there’s no real heat behind it.
“Maybe.” I kiss her once more. Slow. Deliberate. Letting my index finger trail up the inside of her thigh, stopping once I get right where she wants me, regardless of how much my cock is weeping behind my jeans. “But, Abigail?”
“Yes?”
“You still love me anyway.”
Her wide smile lets me know that what I have planned for the rest of the afternoon will be well worth it. “Yeah. I love you anyway.”