Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The Quiet Between Us
Lilly
Lucky Ranch’s wrought iron sign came into view the next morning, bold against the wide Montana sky. My stomach fluttered as I turned beneath it, steering onto the road that led to the homes of all four men who’d won the Powerball.
Money hadn’t changed the land much—fences still stretched across green pastures, cattle dotted the fields—but it was impossible not to feel the weight of what this place meant.
A mile down, the turnoff to Sawyer’s spread waited. My pulse kicked as I eased onto the private drive, the basket of food shifting on the seat beside me. Sunny’s ears perked in the back, nose pressed to the glass as if she knew exactly where we were headed.
Sawyer’s ranch house stood sturdy against the horizon, with clean lines and weathered wood that looked new and timeless. My vehicle hummed over the smooth blacktop as I pulled up to the porch. This was Sawyer James’ land, and every inch of it looked deliberate.
Sunny bounded out before I’d even killed the engine, streaking across the yard like she owned it.
I slowly followed, clutching the basket against my hip.
I’d measured and repacked everything until it was slim enough to slide neatly into Grace’s saddle bags, but standing there, I wondered if it all looked too planned.
Too careful.
Then the front door creaked as Sawyer opened the massive oak door.
Hat brim low. Shoulders easy.
And suddenly, my over-prepared picnic felt like the least of my worries.
When I reached the top of the porch, Sawyer pushed the screen door wide with the side of his fancy leather boot. He leaned against the frame, his broad chest steady, and his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat.
“Hey,” I managed, trying to be casual.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Just watched me with that curious expression of his. It settled me and unnerved me all at once.
Sunny barreled back, nuzzling Sawyer’s knee like she owned the place. Sawyer bent to scratch behind her ear, earning an eager thump of the tail.
“She remembers you,” I said.
“Yeah, looks like she does.” His voice was warm in that quiet, even way of his. He tipped his head toward the barn. “Grace is saddled. We can load up so we can get to the lake before lunchtime.”
“Perfect,” I said, exhaling quietly.
We crossed the yard together, my basket bouncing lightly against my hip.
The ground was still soft from the spring thaw—pocked with hoofprints and tire tracks, and somewhere in the tree line a hawk called, sharp against the wide sky.
I handed the basket over—heavier than it looked—and our fingers brushed.
Just a quick touch, but it sent a little spark rushing through me.
“You okay?” he asked, eyes steady on mine.
“Me? Yeah. Totally fine.” My laugh sounded high and silly. “Just trying not to overthink riding behind you.”
“Not much to it,” he said. “You hang on, and I try not to do anything stupid.”
“That's your official ranch policy?”
“Yep. Top line of the handbook.”
The stable air wrapped around us, hay and leather and that musky sweetness of horse.
Grace poked her head over the stall chain, ears flicking forward when she saw Sunny nosing along the wood-chipped floor.
To my relief, Sunny didn’t bark or shy—just padded forward, tail wagging.
Grace stretched her muzzle down, and the two touched noses like old acquaintances.
I smiled, the tension in my stomach loosening a little. “Well, that’s a good sign.”
“Animals tell the truth,” Sawyer said, almost to himself.
The heat from his body pulled at me as I crouched to stow the food in the saddlebag. Every movement tightened my awareness, making it feel like the stable itself was charged. Words felt unnecessary, so I stayed quiet, breathing the scent of leather, wood chips, and him.
Grace shifted, waiting patiently. Sunny plopped down by the door, tongue lolling, perfectly content. I straightened, brushing straw off my jeans.
“All set?” Sawyer asked.
I nodded, heart thudding like I’d already ridden miles.
Sawyer steadied Grace with one hand and offered the other to me.
His grip was strong, unhurried, pulling me up behind him with a smooth swing of motion that felt far too easy for someone like me.
I settled onto the saddle, my knees brushing the back of his legs, my arms circling his waist because there was no other place for them to go.
Sunny darted ahead, then fell back into a steady trot alongside us, her tail swishing in rhythm with Grace’s stride.
The trail cut through pastures that rolled into a valley of wildflowers, yellow and purple splashes across the green.
The air smelled of grass just woken from winter, of blossoms pushing toward the sun.
Every shift of Sawyer’s body beneath my arms—every flex of muscle, every lean as he guided the mare—sent a ripple through me.
Grace jolted once at a rabbit darting across the path. I tightened my hold without thinking, pressed tighter into Sawyer’s back, and he absorbed it like it was nothing. Solid. Steady. Unshaken.
The silence between us wasn’t empty. It pressed close, weighted, thick with things I didn’t dare say. My cheek hovered a breath away from his shoulder, my pulse caught on the thought that he carried shadows I couldn’t name. A man haunted, and I couldn’t help but wonder by what.
Ahead, sunlight flashed on the lake. Sawyer slowed Grace to a walk, and Sunny splashed eagerly into the lake. My chest tightened, not from nerves now, but from something difficult to admit—this sudden, aching wish that the ride never had to end.
The blanket was soft beneath us, the saddle bag between our knees, half-unpacked. Sunny had claimed a patch of shade under a pine before she started to doze. The lake rippled quietly, ducks cutting slow V-shapes across the surface.
Sawyer leaned back on one elbow, watching me more than the scenery. His silence pressed, not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy enough to make me fidget with the edge of a napkin.
Then he asked, low and direct, “Where’d you go after the cruise? You didn’t come straight back to Lovelace like the rest of us.”
The question caught me. I hadn’t expected him to notice—or maybe I’d hoped he hadn’t. My gaze slipped toward the water, the words sticking in my throat. Finally, I let out a slow breath.
“I stayed a few extra days in Arizona,” I admitted.
“It was because of my parents. They’re getting older, and they need me.
” I twisted my hands in my lap, embarrassed at how small the truth sounded.
“Dad can’t do as much as he used to. And Mom…
” My voice faltered, then steadied. “She’s fragile.
I help them out, mostly financially. I couldn’t just walk away from that. ”
What I didn’t say: how the bills in my shop drawer stacked up like bad secrets. How, sometimes, I wondered if I was just treading water until the whole thing collapsed. That part stayed locked inside.
When I finally glanced at him, Sawyer wasn’t frowning, wasn’t probing for more. He just studied me with that steady, unreadable gaze.
“You’re loyal,” he said.
The word struck deeper than I expected. Loyal. Like it was a strength. Like it was something admirable. Not the anchor I’d always feared it was. Heat spread through my chest, a guilty warmth I couldn’t shake. Because yes, I was loyal.
Yet I was also hiding.
I forced a small smile, brushing a crumb off the blanket. “Someone has to look out for them.”
He gave a slow nod, like that answer was enough. Like maybe I was enough.
For the moment, I let myself believe it.
We just sat there for a while, the silence stretching between us in a way that felt less like distance and more like… space.
Safe space.
Sawyer reached across the blanket, his callused fingers brushing mine before he caught my hand outright.
“You’re loyal,” he said again, softer this time, like he was testing the word. Then he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
The warmth of it spread straight through me, stealing my breath. My gaze dropped, and that’s when I noticed it—ink peeking out from beneath the cuff of his jacket—a star inside a star, bold against his skin.
I tilted my head, curiosity outweighing hesitation. “What’s that?”
He followed my eyes, then slowly pushed his sleeve up to reveal a different design. “Tattoo. Everyone on my SEAL team had one. A bond, you could say. We got them after Mosul.”
The name of the city landed between us like a stone, heavy and foreign. I didn’t know the details, but I didn’t have to. His voice told me enough—that whatever happened there was burned into him as deeply as the ink.
I ran my thumb gently over the tattoo just close enough to trace the shape in the air. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I meant the lines as much as the meaning behind them.
He didn’t explain further, and I didn’t push. Instead, I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. Together we watched a flock of ducks rise off the lake, their wings catching the late-afternoon light.
He carried shadows. I could feel them even now, but they didn’t scare me. If anything, they only made me want to stay.
Sawyer’s shoulder was warm beneath my cheek, his arm steady around me, and for a moment I let myself imagine we could stay like this forever—just the two of us, the lake, and the sound of Sunny splashing in the shallows. But forever never stayed that simple.
He shifted slightly, glancing down at me. “You said you’d call the doctor on Monday?”
I straightened, caught by the seriousness in his tone. “Yeah. It might take a couple of weeks before I can get in, but… I’ll do it.”
He nodded once, jaw tight like he was holding something back. Then he leaned in, brushing a kiss against my cheek—so tender it made my heart stutter. “I want you,” he admitted, voice low. “But we’ll wait. Until it’s right.”
His honesty sent a shiver through me—desire, yes, but also restraint. A man like Sawyer holding himself back for me felt bigger than a promise.
I gave a small laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “Maybe we should still keep this quiet, at least, for now. I’m not sure I’m ready for the whole town to start buzzing.”
He huffed a breath, half amusement, half warning. “You know Callie and Tessa, they aren’t blind. Won’t be long before they catch on—probably at the twins’ birthday party next week.”
I grinned, dropping my face into my hands. “Of course. Callie is the one who set us up in the first place.”
“She sure did. I didn’t really realize it until you were walking down the gangplank of the cruise ship,” he said, and something in his tone made me glance up at him again. A faint smile morphed over his features. “Took me long enough to quit resisting, didn’t it?”
But instead of chasing it, I just nodded, tucking the moment away. For now, it was enough to know he wanted more than just the physical. He wanted something lasting.
And so did I.