Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Annie
The drive back to Ironwood feels dangerous in the warmest possible way.
The kind of danger that lives in glances held too long, hands brushing accidentally on purpose, and the terrifying realization that somewhere between the rodeo, the dancing, and Cody holding my waist like he already knew exactly how I fit there, everything shifted.
Or maybe it finally stopped pretending not to exist.
The truck smells like dust, leather, and Duke’s ridiculous cinnamon gum. Country music hums softly through the speakers, low enough that it feels more like atmosphere than sound.
The rodeo lights disappeared in the rearview mirror twenty minutes ago, leaving only winding dark roads and the occasional wash of headlights from passing trucks.
Duke’s driving, Silas is in the passenger seat with one elbow braced against the window, posture loose, and I’m with Cody in the back seat.
Cody’s thigh has been pressed against mine for the last fourteen miles and neither of us have moved.
I can feel the heat of him through denim.
I can also feel Duke watching us periodically in the rearview mirror like he’s trying not to grin himself into a ditch.
Menace.
Absolute menace.
“You’re staring again,” I tell him.
Duke smiles lazily. “Counterpoint: you’re very stare-able.”
“Not a word.”
“I didn’t even say the worst one yet.”
“That sentence alone feels illegal.”
Silas exhales through his nose from the front seat. “Jeez.”
“What?” Duke says innocently. “I’m keeping morale up.”
“You’re thirty-two,” Cody says beside me. “How are you still like this?”
“Natural talent.”
I try to bite back a laugh and fail.
Cody glances at me.
It’s ridiculous how aware I am of all of them now. Silas’s rough silence, Duke’s warmth, Cody’s focus, piercing enough to feel physical.
The truck hits a bump in the road and my shoulder knocks lightly into Cody’s chest. His hand catches my thigh automatically, steadying me before either of us can think better of it.
Everything in the truck goes quiet, the air changes, and his hand stays there for one suspended second too long.
My pulse trips over itself.
Cody looks down at me, green eyes dark in the passing washes of highway light, and the expression on his face does something deeply irresponsible to my nervous system.
Duke sees it in the mirror and mutters, “Oh, we are all absolutely doomed.”
“Drive the truck,” Silas says flatly.
“I am driving the truck.”
“Then do it with less commentary.”
“That’s not my brand.”
Cody’s thumb shifts once against my leg before he finally lets go.
By the time Ironwood’s gates come into view, my entire body feels too awake.
The ranch shines softly under the exterior lights, all long shadows and silvered fencing and wealth stretched beneath the moonlight. Most of the staff housing is dark already. The barns sit still against the trees.
Peaceful.
Except for the fact that the tension inside this truck could probably be weaponized by the military.
Duke parks near the main house and kills the engine. “Well, this seems healthy.”
I laugh softly under my breath and unclip my seatbelt. The second I do, Cody’s gaze drops to my mouth.
Oh, that’s a problem.
I open the truck door too quickly and climb out into the cold night before my brain fully melts out through my ears.
I should go inside.
Specifically, I should go directly to my room like a woman capable of making coherent life choices.
Instead, I stand there beside the truck while the others climb out too, and the atmosphere between all four of us tightens until it feels almost visible.
No one speaks.
Duke shuts the driver’s door slowly, Silas rounds the hood, Cody comes to stand at my side.
And suddenly I understand: Nobody wants to pretend anymore.
My heartbeat turns traitorous.
“This,” I say carefully, “feels like a very bad idea.”
Duke leans against the truck, arms crossed loosely. “Probably.”
“Yes,” Silas says. “It does.”
Cody nods. “Still here, though.”
I look at him.
Big mistake.
Because the expression on his face is all stripped-down honesty now. No distance or careful restraint. Just raw, focused wanting aimed directly at me like a spotlight.
And the worst part?
I know I’m looking at all of them the same way.
Duke pushes away from the truck first, stepping closer. “Honey,” he says softly, “you’ve been staring at us all night like you’re trying to solve a problem.”
“I am trying to solve a problem.”
“What problem?”
I gesture helplessly between all of us. “This one.”
“That’s fair,” Cody murmurs.
Silas watches me in silence for another long second before speaking. “Tell us to stop.”
My breath catches. The entire world feels balanced on the edge of whatever I say next.
I should stop this.
I should absolutely stop this.
Instead I whisper, “I don’t think I want to.”
Duke actually smiles at that. Soft this time. Almost disbelieving. Cody closes his eyes briefly like the words hit somewhere deeper than he expected. And Silas looks at me like restraint is physically painful.
The realization burns straight through me.
Then Duke reaches for me.
His hand settles at my waist and he kisses me gently at first, like he’s giving me space to reconsider.
Warm mouth. Familiar bourbon and sugar taste still there from the rodeo. The soft scrape of his thumb against my cardigan.
The second I kiss him back, the carefulness breaks.
Duke makes a rough sound against my mouth and pulls me closer. Heat flashes through me.
The whole day crashes back at once, dancing with him beneath the lights, laughing by the arena, his hand finding mine every chance he got.
I kiss him harder.
He grins against my mouth for half a second like he’s genuinely delighted.
Then another hand slides into my hair.
Cody.
I feel him before I fully register him, fingers curving carefully at the back of my neck, calming and possessive all at once.
My breath catches against Duke’s mouth.
“Annie,” Cody says.
I pull back enough to look at him and immediately regret it because his composure is hanging by threads now.
I turn toward him without fully stepping away from Duke, and that makes everything shift harder around us.
Cody’s hand tightens against my neck before he kisses me. Completely different from Duke.
Precise at first. Controlled in the way he controls everything until the second he loses the fight with himself.
Then devastating.
His mouth slants over mine deeper, rougher, and I feel the exact moment his restraint snaps because the sound he makes is low and frustrated like he’s angry at how much he wants this.
Me.
All of this.
I melt into him before pride can intervene.
His free hand slides to my waist, fingers flexing hard enough to wrinkle fabric, and the heat of him nearly knocks the breath out of me.
Kissing Cody feels like discovering fire by accident.
Behind me, I can feel Duke close enough that his chest brushes my back when I breathe.
My brain has officially stopped functioning.
When Cody finally pulls back, his forehead rests briefly against mine.
“That,” he says roughly, “was an extremely poor decision.”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Again,” Duke says.
I laugh helplessly.
Then the gravel shifts behind us.
Silas.
Every nerve in my body lights up before he even touches me.
His hand closes around my jaw gently but firmly, tipping my face up toward his. The size of him always hits me hardest up close. Solid warmth, cedarwood, and that unbearable sense of control stretched to its limit.
Then he kisses me.
And oh.
Silas kisses like a man making a decision. Like he’s spent weeks standing on the edge of something and finally got tired of denying gravity exists.
The force of it steals the breath from my lungs.
His other arm wraps around my waist and suddenly I’m pressed fully against him, surrounded on all sides by warmth and denim and rough hands and the impossible reality of what I’m doing.
What we’re doing.
I make a soft sound against his mouth and feel all three men react to it.
Silas breaks the kiss just enough to look down at me, breathing hard. “We should go inside.”
Reasonable sentence.
Except nobody moves.
Duke’s hand slides up my spine slowly beneath my cardigan. Cody’s thumb traces once against my hip. And the tension that’s been building for weeks finally stops pretending it isn’t alive.
I open my mouth, but I don’t have words, only instinct. I drag Cody down by the collar and kiss him like I’m staking a claim.
He gives it right back, biting, desperate, the tension in his hands not just permission but a plea for more.
Duke is behind me again, bracketing my shoulders with his arms. His breath is hot at my neck. Then he whips me off my feet to carry me inside.
The front steps are a blur. I barely register the throw of the door, the scrape of boots on tile, the fast, silent communication between the three of them. Eyes darting, hands guiding, a choreography born from unspoken agreements and the loudest kind of want.
And I’m not the one outthinking the moment. I’m just in it.
Duke dumps me on the entryway table, sending the jar of pens flying, and just laughs when one shatters on the floor, blue ink running down the leg like blood.
He slaps his palms to the surface at my hips and leans in, mouth open, already greedy. I see his eyes flick up to my face, checking if he’s pushing too far, and I reach up, knot my hands in the hair at his nape, and pull him closer.
My mouth is already bruised, already raw, and the night has barely started.
Cody and Silas flank Duke, their faces set.
Silas’s voice is a low command. “Spread your knees.”
I do, table digging into the backs of my thighs, cardigan already half-off, bra strap slipping from my shoulder.
I should feel caught or on display. Maybe I do, but it’s ignited by their eyes on me, their hands already taking liberties. There’s no pretending I’m not loving this. I tilt my chin up, defiant and wanton all at once.
Cody is the one who palms my jaw first, tipping my face toward his. The kiss is less desperate this time, more like he’s slowing down just to torture us both.