7
Levi and Jess made the slow walk back toward the house from the barn, boots kicking up dust with each step. The day's work had been tiring and demanding today—hauling hay since before sun-up, setting irrigation in the far fields, and tagging new calves.
Levi was tired and well aware of the sweat clinging to his shirt, already looking forward to a hot shower to wash the day away. His body was sore in a way that made every step up the gravel path feel heavier than it should’ve.
Jess walked a few paces behind, slapping the dust off his jeans with his hat. “Man, I’m tellin’ you right now I’m not lifting a damn thing tomorrow unless it's a beer.”
Wiping a line of dust off his brow with the back of his arm, Levi cast a sideways glance over his shoulder at his younger brother. “You say that every week.”
“Yeah, and somehow you still rope me into all this.”
"You gonna stick around this time?" Levi asked gruffly. "Or just keep being a damn tumbleweed blowin’ wherever the next party takes you?"
Jess let out a low chuckle. “I like to think of it as bein’ selectively dependable.”
Levi just grunted, but something up ahead caught his eye, and Jess paused mid-step.
“The hell is that?”
Levi’s brows pulled together as he looked at his own front porch. Placed neatly at the top of the steps were two oversized pots, each one filled to the brim with vibrant flowers, pinks and oranges, and yellows that hadn't been there this morning.
“Wow, Levi,” Jess leaned in closer, “This your new style? Looks like you’ve got a hidden passion for home décor and seasonal aesthetics.”
Levi rolled his eyes and stomped forward, making his way up the steps and muttering under his breath. “Jess, don't.”
Jess grinned widely behind him. “Looks good, man. You plant 'em between branding calves and yelling at fence posts?”
Levi frowned. “Shut the fuck up.”
Jess let out a low whistle. “Seems like somebody’s pretty’n up the place in more ways than one, big bro.”
Levi turned his head slowly, a warning already in his eyes. “Better watch how you say that.”
Jess smirked, still grinning. “Why? She’s just the nanny, right?”
Levi didn’t answer at first. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he climbed the steps. “I said, watch it.”
Jess raised both hands. “Didn’t say a damn thing. Just makin’ an observation about your pretty, new… flowers. ”
That earned a scoff from Levi as they stepped into the house to grab a couple beers, the cool air a welcome relief after a day under the sun.
Levi twisted the top off his bottle and handed the other to Jess, both of them walking back out to the porch and settling into the wooden chairs with a view of the horizon and the flower pots at their feet.
After a few minutes of silence, his eyes drew back to the planter. Levi nudged Jess’s boot with his own. “Whatcha think about just… stayin’ put. Putting down something real.”
Jess didn’t answer right away. He watched the land stretched out in front of them—the fences, the horses grazing off in the distance, the wind catching the edge of the barn roof.
“I don't know, man. Not sure if it's for me,” he gave a sad half-smile. “But sometimes it don’t sound half bad.”
Before either of them could say anything else, the front door creaked open behind them. June came flying out, giggling, her two little braids bouncing as she launched herself onto Levi’s lap.
“Daddy! Look!” she pointed at the flowers. “Emery helped me plant those today!”
Levi smiled down at her, brushing some loose hair behind her ear. “That so?”
“Uh-huh,” she beamed. “I got to pick the colors and everything.”
Levi looked over at the pots again and nodded. “Well, they sure are pretty, June bug.”
Just then, the screen door opened again, and Emery stepped out, pulling on a beige slouchy cardigan and slipping into her flip flops she’d left by the door. She paused on the steps for a second, giving Levi and Jess a warm smile.
Planting a kiss on June's head and glancing back at the flowers, Levi couldn't help but think about how Emery had been quiet about it all, slipping into his routine without forcing it.
Baking cookies and leaving them in the kitchen like they just appeared there.
Taking over feeding the chickens, cooking dinners barefoot in the kitchen, like she belonged in this place .
And now flowers. Bright. Warm. Intentional.
He didn’t like change. Didn’t like being caught off guard.
Still, he found himself thinking how the orange in those zinnias almost matched the amber flecks in her eyes when he'd catch her laughing about something with June.
Jess knocked his boot this time. “You keep lookin’ at those flowers like that, and folks are gonna start thinking you’ve gone soft.”
“I said shut up,” Levi grumbled, but scowling just a little less than before.
“I borrowed a shovel from the barn,” Emery told him. “June was determined to get those flowers in the ground before the sun went down.”
“You girls did good,” His voice was lower than usual.
“I think she just wanted an excuse to play in the dirt,” Emery grinned, calling gently to June. “Come on, little lady, let’s get you cleaned up before I head out.”
June gave her dad a quick squeeze around his neck and a kiss on the cheek before scampering back inside, Emery following after her.
Levi watched her go, letting his eyes linger just a second too long.
Jess didn't miss his brother’s gaze.
“Don’t even start,” Levi warned, meeting his smirk.
Jess held up both hands again. “I didn’t say a damn thing.”
“You didn’t need to,” Levi muttered, narrowing his eyes at him. “I’m your brother. I can read you like a damn book.”
Jess just grinned behind his bottle; eyes still fixed on the doorway where Emery had disappeared. “Then you already know what chapter this is, and it ain't mine to star in.”
Levi let out a sigh. “Shit, even if it was like that, I couldn't let it go anywhere. She's only here temporarily, no way I'm getting attached and letting June get even more attached to someone who’s just ultimately planning on leaving.”
“I'm not saying I know everything, but maybe if you weren't so damn uptight and asked her pretty please, she might consider staying around.” Jess stood, his beer in hand, making his way to the gravel driveway that continued out back past Levi's house toward his cabin, whistling low to himself and leaving Levi alone on the porch with only the swish of wind through the tall grass for company.
With June to bed and Emery now gone, Levi was back on the porch, sitting at the top of the steps again as if it had become a necessary part of his nightly ritual. He hadn’t watched her drive off.
Not on purpose, anyway.
He took another long pull from his last beer for the night, the condensation and the cold bottle smooth against his calloused fingers. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the flowers she and June had planted like they were some kind of invasion.
Pinks and purples and things he couldn’t name—except maybe petunias, but only because June had told him while he was tucking her into bed. They looked delicate and bright and… wrong. Not necessarily in a bad way, but… different.
They didn’t belong on his porch.
Or maybe they didn’t use to.
Levi rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw, agitated without knowing why.
The damn things smelled good, too. Every time the wind shifted at all, that floral scent drifted up and tangled with the dust from the paddock and hay from the barn.
It reminded him of her. Of the soft way she tucked hair behind June’s ears.
Of how her laugh came so easily, like she was letting herself settle in.
And maybe that’s what had him so on edge.
Because he wasn’t supposed to be noticing any of that.
Emery wasn’t his.
Hell, she wasn't even permanent. And yet…
The way she looked while she helped June with her homework at the dinner table, or holding her hand as they'd go for a walk to see the horses in the barn. The way she stood tonight in the doorway, the setting sun catching the warm coppery strands in her hair…
It felt like she belonged.
And that scared the ever-loving hell out of him.
He let out a slow breath and looked up at the stars starting to show themselves in the darkening sky.
This wasn’t in the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be getting soft. Wasn’t supposed to be sitting here wondering what she wore to bed or what her favorite color was.
But damn if she didn’t make the place feel warmer.
He scratched at the back of his neck, unsettled.
She's just the nanny, he told himself again.
But the words didn’t land quite as firmly as they had before.
Especially not when the porch smelled like flowers. And her.