Chapter 4
Dice
The storm howled around us as we left the main house, my hand firm on Sara’s back as I guided her toward the bunkhouse. The wind bit at any exposed skin, and all I could think about was getting her somewhere warm and safe.
And away from prying eyes and questions.
The bunkhouse was a simple modular home, one of a few scattered near the barn.
Come spring, Jacob planned to start building permanent houses for the crew.
Diesel, Jax, Carter… they’d all have places of their own, spots to settle down with their women.
But for now, this place worked. It wasn’t fancy, but it was home.
Lights glowed in the windows, a welcome beacon against the storm. The front door creaked as I pushed it open, ushering Sara inside ahead of me. Warmth wrapped around us immediately, carrying the smell of coffee, wood smoke, and too many men cooped up together for too long.
A few guys were gathered around the kitchen table, a deck of cards spread between them.
Poker chips clicked in their hands, the rhythmic sound breaking through the background hum of conversation.
One of the men was newer to me, Trippe, a quiet guy who mostly kept to himself.
Fox had a room here too, but thankfully he was stuck at the main house tonight.
The room fell silent the second they saw me with Sara.
“Holy shit,” one of them breathed, his hand frozen mid-shuffle.
One man slowly set his cards down. “Everything okay?” His tone was neutral, but I didn’t miss the underlying tension.
“Yeah,” I said evenly. My hand stayed on the small of Sara’s back. “Found her car buried in the storm. She was trying to dig herself out.”
Brows furrowed. No one cracked a joke. No one dared. They just… watched. Measuring her. Measuring me.
Finally, one of the older men gave a single, slow nod. “She’s safe now. That’s what matters.”
Sara shifted closer to me, picking up on the unspoken weight in the room.
I angled my body slightly in front of hers, a silent claim and warning all in one.
“She’s staying with me,” I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.
No one challenged me.
The tension eased slightly, and then one of the younger guys leaned back in his chair, his tone deliberately lighter as he addressed Sara directly. “You do know why we call him Dice, right?” He grinned, more curious than cruel. “And you’re still willing to stay with him?”
Sara blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… should I be worried?”
A couple of the men chuckled low, the sound warm rather than mocking.
The first guy smirked. “Let’s just say… you’re about to find out.”
Sara’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced up at me, confused but intrigued.
“Keep walking,” I muttered, but a corner of my mouth ticked upward.
Behind us, the soft laughter rolled back into the quiet shuffle of cards, leaving just enough levity for Sara to breathe easier.
At the end of the hall, I opened the door to my room and flicked on the light. It wasn’t much, just a bed, a dresser, a couple pairs of boots and hats tossed carelessly in the corner. Pretty standard cowboy fare.
But then there were the other things.
Dragons lined the top of the dresser, hand-painted miniatures arranged in a battle formation. Dice bags. A stack of well-worn rulebooks. A Dungeons & Dragons campaign binder sitting half-open on the nightstand.
I tensed, waiting for the teasing or the awkward silence. But when I looked at Sara, she wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t judging. Her gaze softened, a small smile tugging at her lips as she took it all in.
“It’s… you,” she said finally, her voice warm and sure. “I like it. It’s… real. Comfortable.”
Something unknotted in my chest at those words. For a moment, I let myself breathe.
“Glad you think so,” I said roughly, moving to the dresser to grab a clean T-shirt. “Here, you can shower and change into this. The bathroom’s right through there.”
Her fingers brushed mine when she took it, a spark of heat flaring through the cold lingering on her skin. She gave me a grateful look before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.
The second she was out of sight, the guys at the table pounced.
“Dice, man,” one of them called down the hall, his voice full of mock disbelief. “You didn’t tell us you had a girl hiding out in that storm. About time you brought someone home.”
“Not my girl,” I growled, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Oh, sure,” another one shot back, laughing. “That’s what they all say. Next thing we know, you’ll be shacking up permanent and asking Jacob to build you a house next spring.”
“Knock it off,” I snapped, sharper than I intended.
The laughter dimmed, but I didn’t care. They didn’t understand.
Hell, I barely did. All I knew was that Sara wasn’t just some random woman I’d rescued.
She was… more. It was like fate had dragged her back to me, daring me to fight for her this time.
That high school crush had turned into something fierce and undeniable, a need that burned in my veins, and I was already imagining how it would feel to finally have her close, to taste her lips and claim every part of her.
The bathroom door clicked open.
Sara stepped out, steam curling behind her, her wet hair hanging in loose, dark waves around her shoulders. My T-shirt swallowed her frame, soft cotton clinging to damp skin in a way that sent every coherent thought scattering.
I froze.
In that instant, I knew.
This wasn’t chance. It wasn’t some storm throwing us together for a night.
Sara was mine.