Chapter 53 Dakota
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Dakota
Okay, so I officially live on a ranch now.
Never thought I’d say that sentence out loud, but here we are.
The sound of boxes scraping across hardwood floors fills the air, along with a few grunts and at least three “I got it!”. None of which sound particularly convincing.
Clint, Reid, and Sawyer are all doing their best to move my life from one house to another, which means there’s a whole lot of muscle, sweat, and good-natured bickering happening in my living room.
Charlie’s in the middle of it all, spinning in circles with Rover, the dog’s tail wagging like a windmill. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the one in charge of this operation.
“Where do you want this one?” Reid calls from the doorway, carrying a box labeled Kitchen—Maybe Fragile?
I laugh. “The ‘maybe fragile’ one? Yeah, that definitely goes in the kitchen.”
“Copy that,” he says, setting it down and brushing his hands off. “And if it turns out to be broken, I’m blaming Sawyer.”
Sawyer scoffs from behind him, balancing two smaller boxes and a bag of what I think might be pillows. “I’ve already been blamed for three boxes and a missing screwdriver. I’m starting to think this is a setup.”
Clint walks past them, carrying a box under one arm like it weighs nothing. “If you didn’t talk so much, you’d move twice as fast.”
Sawyer smirks. “If I didn’t talk so much, you’d be twice as bored.”
Reid snorts, Charlie giggles, and Clint gives him that squinty, half-annoyed look that always gives him away. He’s amused, even when he’s pretending not to be.
It’s madness. Pure, perfect insanity.
And I kind of love it.
Suddenly, I hear a loud woof, followed by the unmistakable sound of Rover’s paws skittering across the floor.
“Uh, Sawyer? I think your dog just ate my sandwich,” Reid says, looking down at his half-eaten lunch, which now includes an alarming lack of sandwich.
“Rover,” Sawyer sighs, half annoyed but with that amused undertone that says this isn’t the first time.
He walks over to where the dog is sitting proudly with half of Reid’s sandwich sticking out of his mouth, looking like he just pulled off the greatest heist of all time.
“Rover, drop it,” Clint orders, but the dog just looks up at him with the biggest, most innocent puppy eyes ever.
And then, to top it off, he licks his lips, genuinely proud of himself.
Reid is laughing. “You know, Sawyer, I think your dog’s got a future as a burglar.”
“Not funny, man,” Sawyer mutters, though he’s clearly trying not to laugh as he bends down to retrieve what’s left of the sandwich.
Rover, unfazed by the entire situation, trots away, tail wagging happily.
“That’s it,” Reid announces, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’m officially calling him my dog now.”
“You’re welcome to him,” Sawyer shoots back, full of affection for the little troublemaker.
I chuckle. “So, do we get a sorry for the stolen sandwich, or…?”
Rover, sensing an opening, trots back toward me and drops the sandwich wrapper at my feet like a gift.
“Well, now I’m just impressed,” I say, grinning as I pick it up. “You’ve got to admit, the little guy’s got style.”
Charlie runs over to me with his arms full of stuffed animals. “Mom, can these go in my new room?”
“Of course, baby,” I say, crouching down to help him gather the ones that keep slipping out of his arms. “You can put them wherever you want.”
He beams at me like I just gave him the world.
“This is my favorite house ever,” he declares.
My throat gets a little tight, the way it does when I’m dangerously close to crying over something small but beautiful.
“Yeah,” I manage, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Mine too.”
By the time we get the last box inside, I’m sweaty, dusty, and weirdly happy about it. The ranch house already feels alive in a way that my grandfather’s house never did.
High Ridge Ranch is full of laughter, movement, and love.
It’s home.
Clint straightens up from where he’s been stacking the last boxes in the corner, hands on his hips. “That’s the last of it.”
“Finally,” Reid groans, collapsing onto the couch. “I thought we were gonna have to call in backup.”
“You mean Violet and Alice?” I tease, grinning as I hand him a bottle of water. “Because I’d pay good money to watch Violet tell you, boys, how to properly carry boxes without complaining.”
Sawyer laughs. “She’d have us sorting them by weight.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say, shaking my head. “And she’d still look fabulous doing it.”
We all laugh, and I just take it in. The sound of it. The warmth.
Charlie humming to himself on the floor, stacking his dinosaurs in some kind of epic prehistoric battle. Reid lounging happily. Sawyer fussing with the curtains, pretending not to care that he’s fussing. Clint watching me with that quiet, intense expression that always makes my stomach flip.
It hits me then. This isn’t temporary anymore.
This is real.
And I can’t think of anything better.
Rover trots back into the room and drops a bone at Clint’s feet, looking like he’s ready for a reward.
“Seriously?” Clint asks, looking down at the bone in exasperation. “You’ve been eating sandwiches, now you’re going for bones?”
Rover gives him the sweetest, most innocent head tilt. He’s just doing his job.
“Good job, Rover.” I laugh, patting the dog’s head. “And thank you, I guess.”
Clint shakes his head. “He’s got a one-track mind.” He looks at me, and that soft, knowing smile of his makes my heart skip. “We all do, don’t we?”
Everything feels exactly as it should. We’ve found our rhythm. Our place.
And there’s no turning back now.