Chapter 6
Chapter Six
K ing
The thick scent of cigars wafts through the air as I lean back in my chair, boots propped up on the railing of my cabin’s wraparound porch. My brothers are scattered around, each nursing a drink, cigar smoke curling lazily between us. The sound of shuffling cards and laughter fills the evening air.
"Archer, you gone soft on us?" Barron drawls, grinning like the devil as he flicks ash off his cigar. "What’s this I hear about you doing all the baby feedings?"
Archer, sitting across from me, smirks, his hand cradling a whiskey glass. "Damn right I have. Bella went through hell to bring Blaze into the world. Least I can do is let her sleep. Besides, holding that little bundle makes me feel something none of you lot would understand." He raises his glass in mock salute. "It’s called love. Try it sometime."
The table erupts in groans and laughter, Judge slapping Archer on the back hard enough to nearly knock the whiskey out of his hand. “You’re whipped, man. Two weeks of diaper duty, and you’re a fucking Hallmark card.”
Archer takes it in stride, chuckling as he puffs on his cigar. "Say what you want. I wouldn’t trade it for anything."
The teasing shifts focus as the cards are dealt, and the brothers start in on me. It doesn’t take long—those vultures have been circling ever since they got here.
“So,” Cruz says, lighting up with a gleam in his eye that puts me on edge. “Speaking of love... word around town is you’ve got your eye on someone.”
I stiffen, but I don’t bite. “What are you talking about?”
Creed leans forward, elbows on the table, grinning. “Betty’s niece. Indie.”
I sigh, long and slow, trying to keep my annoyance in check. “The city girl?”
"City girl," Knox scoffs, shaking his head. “That woman’s been running rings around you since she showed up. Admit it, King, she’s got you twisted up like a barbed-wire fence.”
“Twisted up?” I snort, shaking my head. “She’s just... different. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Cruz raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean anything? Then why do you light up like a damn Christmas tree whenever she’s around?”
“I don’t,” I growl, setting my glass down with more force than necessary.
“You do,” Judge interjects, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Betty says you’ve been hanging around the café more than usual. You never used to care about the pie-of-the-day specials before she showed up.”
“That’s because Betty’s been trying to marry me off for years,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “She’s relentless.”
"Relentless or not, you need to wake up," Arrow says, his voice quieter but no less firm. "You’ve been a stubborn hard ass for too long, King. Indie’s not like the others. She’s related to Betty–she’s got grit, and it doesn’t sound like she takes your shit."
I glance around at the circle of my brothers, their faces ranging from amused to downright smug. There’s no point denying it—they see right through me. Indie Burton has been under my skin from the moment I found her stranded on the side of the road nearly two weeks ago. But admitting it to these jackals? That’s another story.
“You all think you know so damn much,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair. “Maybe she is different. But she’s also hiding something.”
“She doesn’t have to be perfect,” Archer says, his voice softer now. “If she’s the one who makes you think about settling down, isn’t that enough?”
The words land harder than I’d like to admit. I stare out at the horizon, the darkening sky stretching over the mountains. Indie’s laugh, her fiery retorts, the way she looks at me like she’s daring me to come closer... it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days.
“She’s got me thinking about it,” I admit quietly. “Hell, I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d have me.”
The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the soft whistle of the wind through the trees.
“You’re serious,” Creed says, his voice low with surprise.
I nod, glancing at him. “She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. But like I said, there’s more to her than she’s letting on.”
Cruz claps me on the shoulder, his grin wide. “Then figure it out, man. Don’t let her slip away.”
The conversation shifts after that, the brothers teasing Archer about his newfound domesticity while we play another hand of poker. But my thoughts keep drifting back to Indie. By the time the game wraps up, I’ve made up my mind.
After my brothers pack up and head down the trail, I grab my tools and head to the barn. Copper, my old mare, lost a shoe earlier, and I need to get her sorted before tomorrow. The barn is cool and quiet, the scent of hay and leather grounding me as I work.
“Alright, girl,” I murmur, running a hand along Copper’s flank. “Let’s get you fixed up.”
As I bend to work, the rhythm of the task settles my restless thoughts. But Indie’s face keeps creeping into my mind—the way she tilts her chin up at me, refusing to back down. The fire in her eyes when she talks about what she wants, what she believes in. She’s a force of nature, and for the first time in my life, I’m starting to wonder if I could be the kind of man who’s strong enough to stand beside her.
When the last nail is in place, I straighten and pat Copper’s side. “You know,” I say to the mare, “it’d be nice to have a woman around here. Someone who doesn’t smell like the barn or argue back as much as you do.”
Copper huffs, flicking her tail at me, and I chuckle. “What do you think, girl? Am I crazy for thinking about love? About a future?”
The horse doesn’t answer, of course, but the stillness of the barn feels like it’s listening. I glance out at the night sky, the stars just beginning to peek through. For the first time in years, I let myself imagine it—a life with someone like Indie. Laughter in the house, the smell of cookies baking in the kitchen, maybe even the sound of little feet running across the floor someday.
“Guess I’m a fool,” I mutter, grabbing my tools and heading for the door. “But damn if it doesn’t feel like a good kind of foolish.”