Chapter 10
Asher
The bell above the diner door gives its bright little jangle when we step inside, and the sound cuts clean through the late-morning crowd.
I nod at our former high school team captain, Jeremy, and his pregnant wife, Clara, and scan the room.
It looks like the entire town is having breakfast here. Excellent.
We have Josie between us.
Logan’s hand rests low around her back, and when his thumb moves in a slow, absent circle on the curve of her hip, he brushes my leg. We’re as close as we can get. Well, as close as we can get with our clothes on.
I lace my fingers with hers as we cross the tiled floor, showing the world we’re an item now.
She smells like fresh cotton and a trace of cedar from our shower gel, but underneath that is her warm, faintly floral scent.
There’s still a whisper of us on her skin, too, something richer, something that makes my pulse shift when I lean closer.
Her spine straightens when the first few heads turn. She isn’t fully bracing, and if we weren’t touching her, we might have missed it.
I squeeze her hand and continue toward a free booth.
Logan must have noticed her reaction too. He slides his hand higher, cupping her waist and pulling her closer. I let my shoulder brush hers in a deliberate way.
Be brave, our little Josie.
The diner smells like coffee and bacon grease and syrup. Plates clink. Someone laughs too loudly near the counter. Maggie’s voice carries from a booth near the window, bright and unbothered.
Mrs. Harlow squints at us over her mug as we pass her table. “Well, don’t you three look settled.”
Josie relaxes a bit, and her laugh sounds genuine. “Morning, Mrs. Harlow.”
“You getting that old Turner place in shape?” Mrs. Harlow continues.
“I am.” Josie halts and beams at the older woman. “It’ll take work, but it’s good land.”
“And you’re building an animal shelter?” Mrs. Harlow bobs her gray hair, which seems to have been glued in place, because the updo doesn’t shift. “Town could use something hopeful.”
Hopeful.
The word hangs in the air like the steam from the fresh coffee.
Josie inhales. I watch the breath fill her. Her shoulders lower a fraction. “Thank you, that means a lot to me. Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Thank you, dear, you too.”
I lean close enough that my breath skims Josie’s ear. “Hopeful has a nice ring to it,” I murmur.
Her fingers tighten around mine briefly, then relax.
We slide into a rounded booth. Logan slides in first, and she settles next to him, and I take a seat next to her. The vinyl creaks. My thigh presses against hers under the table. I drape an arm across the back of the booth, so it curves behind her shoulders. Logan places his hand on her knee.
I shift closer, letting the line of my leg bracket hers more firmly. She shoots me a glance before opening the menu but doesn't seem to read a word of it. Her attention keeps wandering, taking in the diner, the people, the curious glances that linger a second too long before sliding away.
A nervous smile flickers across her mouth and disappears. I know that look now. She's trying not to take up space.
I settle my hand on the bench behind her.
She'll learn.
And so will everyone else in Iron Ridge.
Josie belongs exactly where she is.
Loreen appears with a coffee pot and that knowing half-smirk she’s had since we were teenagers.
“Well,” she says, pouring Josie a cup first. “Aren’t you the most popular woman in town this morning.”
Josie ducks her head slightly, but she’s smiling. “I’m just here for pancakes.”
“Mm-hmm,” Loreen hums, glancing between Logan and me. “You boys behave.”
Logan grins lazily. “Define behave.”
She snorts and walks off.
Josie wraps both hands around her mug.
Logan nudges her menu closed. “You’re getting the special.”
“And what is the special?” she asks.
“Eggs, bacon, hash browns,” I answer. “And pancakes the size of your face.”
She arches a brow at me. “That seems excessive.”
“After last night,” Logan lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses her fingers, “you need excessive.”
She huffs, but a cute color rises in her cheeks. And I fall a little more in love with Josie Hart.
Logan
Between ordering our breakfast and waiting for the food to arrive, we shower Josie with attention.
She takes it in stride, and so does the town.
When it comes to football, this town is high-strung, but when it comes to romance, Iron Ridge is pretty laid back.
As long as it’s between consenting adults, we don’t care what your jam is.
When the plates arrive, the scent of butter and syrup fills the booth. Asher drags his knife through the stack of pancakes and slices off a bite. He dips it in syrup and holds it up to her mouth.
She stares at him. “You’re serious?”
“Humor me,” he replies.
She bites.
A slow chew. A roll of her eyes that isn’t fooling anyone.
Satisfaction flickers in my brother’s gaze.
I reach for her hand under the table. She lets me take it. I lift her knuckles to my mouth and brush my lips over them. Her breath catches. The sound travels straight to my cock.
Josie's gaze flicks around the diner. A dozen conversations carry on around us. Nobody's staring. Nobody looks shocked. Still, a faint crease appears between her brows.
"What?" Asher asks.
She shakes her head. "Nothing."
"That's a lie."
Color rises in her cheeks. "I just..." Her fingers tighten around mine. "People are going to talk."
Asher snorts. "People already talk. They always talk."
A reluctant smile tugs at her mouth. "I'm serious."
"So am I." He sets down his fork and leans back in the booth. "Let them."
She looks from him to me.
Asher reaches across the table and covers her free hand with his. "We love you, Josie Hart." The words land in the middle of the diner like a stone dropped into still water.
Her eyes widen. For once, she has no response.
Asher's thumb strokes across her knuckles. "We want the whole town to know it."
Silence.
Pure, stunned silence.
I bite back a grin.
Josie blinks at him.
Then blinks again.
I spear a piece of pancake with my fork and hold it toward her.
“Eat,” I encourage.
She automatically opens her mouth, and I laugh as her eyes blaze when she realizes what she just did.
"You don't have to say it back right now."
Her gaze snaps to mine.
My amusement fades into something steadier. "But yeah." I squeeze her hand. "We love you."
For a second, she just stares at us. Then her eyes go suspiciously bright. And somehow that feels better than hearing the words back from her. Because maybe she isn’t ready to admit it right now, but I know in my bones that she loves us right back.