Chapter Ten
Law’s father leaned back slightly on the bench, watching the bonfire for a moment before speaking.
“My son doesn’t bring people home.”
The words were calm. Matter-of-fact.
Sage waited.
The pause stretched—made it worse.
“…Not like this.” The man’s head turned and his gaze locked on him.
Sage felt the instinctive response before he could stop it—the old street reflex that had kept him alive for years.
What did I do wrong?
He buried the thought immediately.
When boots sounded against the porch boards, Sage looked up.
Law stepped down the porch steps holding two mugs of coffee, the warm porch light catching the gray threaded through his dark hair.
His gaze swept over him as he crossed the yard toward them. Law moved with easy confidence—long stride, shoulders loose, hips rolling just enough to carry his weight smoothly across the grass.
Something about the movement caught his attention for a long beat.
The soldier didn’t hurry, and it only exaggerated his sexy walk. Sage couldn’t look away.
Law’s father glanced over his shoulder and gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment.
“Well. Here he is.”
Law stopped beside the table and held one of the mugs out toward him.
“Coffee.”
Sage took it automatically. “Thanks.”
Up close, Law’s presence felt… intense.
His father pushed back from the bench and rose to his feet, brushing his hands together.
“We’ll let you two talk.”
Law shot his dad a look.
The older man only smiled faintly and started toward the bonfire. Law’s mother stepped at his side, looping her arm through her husband’s as they wandered away beneath the lights.
Just like that, they were alone at the picnic table.
Sage took a careful sip of coffee, the creamy sugary heat spreading across his tongue. He licked his lips.
Law’s gaze followed the movement.
Sage swallowed around a suddenly dry throat and took another hasty sip of coffee.
“What did he say?”
Sage slowly placed the mug down and ran his damp hands down the sides of his jeans.
“You never bring people home.”
A corner of Law’s mouth lifted slightly.
“He’s right.”
Sage blinked at him.
“That’s it?”
Law leaned one hip against the edge of the table, folding his arms loosely across his chest. The lights from the yard caught in his eyes.
“That bother you?”
Sage huffed a quiet breath through his nose. “Your dad made it sound like I’d just been handed a job offer.”
Law’s mouth twitched.
And he suddenly found that very fucking sexy.
“Hey, you two! Get yo asses over here,” Winter yelled from across the lawn, breaking the moment.
Micah danced over and snagged Sage’s arm. Sage shook his head, laughing as Micah tried to drag him toward the grass.
Law watched, amused, and followed at a slower pace.
Lowering into one of the lawn chairs, his coffee forgotten in his hand, the wood creaked under his weight as he settled back. He watched Sage get pulled into the chaos on the grass.
Smoke from the small bonfire drifted through the warm Tennessee night, crickets humming beneath a sky littered with stars. Firelight flickered, throwing moving shadows across the faces around it.
His sister put her guitar away and turned on the surround sound speakers tucked into the eaves on the back porch. The opening beats of Sweet Home Alabama started playing.
Sage synced his moves with Micah’s rhythm, and someone gave a cat-call whistle.
“Hell yeah,” Boston said and jumped to his feet, dancing his way across the yard to join Micah, Sage, and several of his family. The teenagers were up, his younger sisters and brothers laughing and moving with the music.
He’d brought Sage here to relax—and it had worked.
The Rusty Spur lingered at the edge of his thoughts—the envelope, and the quiet that came after.
Law didn’t ask. Not tonight. It still bugged him that he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, but he would. It was only a matter of time.
But all of that could wait.
The only thing that mattered was the slender blond beauty dancing on the grass beneath the stars and moon.
The firelight caught the curve of Sage’s smile.
There wasn’t a question in it anymore.
Something settled low and certain in Law’s chest.
Yeah.
That’s mine.
And I’m not letting the world touch him.
Sage let Boston spin him once before shoving him back with a laugh, the warm night air sliding over his skin as he turned.
“Knock it off,” he grumbled.
Boston just grinned and came right back at him, hips swinging in a way that should’ve been illegal.
Sage laughed, shaking his head—bass thumped through the ground, a steady pulse under his boots—
—and felt it.
Not the music.
Not the heat from the fire.
Something else.
He glanced toward the edge of the yard.
Law was watching him.
Not casually.
Not the way people watched the dancing.
Steady. Focused.
Like he was the only thing in the yard worth seeing.
The awareness hit sharp and low, his pulse kicking once, hard.
Sage stilled for half a second before forcing himself to move again, matching Boston’s beat, letting the rhythm pull him back into motion.
Boston slid in at Sage’s side again, shoulder bumping his, voice low under the music.
“You got it bad.”
Sage shot him a look. “What?”
Micah appeared dancing on his other side, grin slow and knowing as he leaned in, brushing close enough to be heard without raising his voice.
“Oh, honey,” Micah murmured, eyes flicking past Sage for half a second before settling back on him, “that man wants you.”
Sage’s face heated instantly.
“It’s not a thing,” he muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite in it.
Boston huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that.”
Micah’s grin only deepened as he straightened, already moving back into the music. “You’re the only one who hasn’t figured out it’s definitely a thing.”
Sage exhaled sharply through his nose and dragged a hand through his hair, trying to shake it off—
—but his gaze betrayed him, cutting right back toward the edge of the yard.
Toward Law.
They were right.
Something had changed between him and Law.
He’d felt the attraction—hell, he’d enjoyed flirting with the older man—but he’d never once thought they’d be a thing.
Until now.
Law’s eyes were locked on his hips—his ass—and Sage slowed his movement, the heat from the fire brushing across his skin as he turned, lowering his lids to half-mast as he licked his suddenly dry lips.
Even in the dark, he caught the shift—Law’s gaze going darker, sharper, something dangerous flickering there.
Sage held the look.
The music still pulsed through the yard, bodies moving around him, but his focus stayed locked—straight to the edge of the lawn.
On Law.
Something in his chest shifted, settled deeper this time.
Fine.
If the man wanted to watch—
Sage let him.
His movement changed without thinking about it. Slower. More deliberate. Less careless energy, more control. He rolled his hips, turned just enough for the firelight to catch, aware now of every step, every shift of his body.
Aware of those whiskey eyes on him.
Law’s grip tightened slightly around the coffee mug.
He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.
The distance between them stretched and tightened all at once, something unspoken locking into place.
For a second, the rest of the world dulled—the music, the laughter, the crackle of the fire—everything fading to background noise.
Just that look.
Just that pull.
“Fireworks! Get over here!” someone shouted from the far side of the yard.
Sage jerked to a stop. The moment snapped.
Voices picked up again, movement shifting as people drifted toward the open field beyond the house.
Boston grabbed someone’s arm and took off. Micah followed, laughing.
Sage exhaled slowly and dragged a hand through his hair, breaking the line of sight—but not the awareness.
Not even close.
He stepped forward, already moving in the same direction as the rest of them.
Toward the field.
Toward the next thing.
And whether he meant to or not—
toward Law.