Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LINC
“Kristin, you and Linc better be dressed because we’re coming in.” Nora’s voice shouted from the other side of the door, loud enough to rattle the frame.
“Oh god, living next to my friends was not a smart move,” I muttered, taking a long sip of coffee. The mug was warm in my hand, the scent rich and grounding.
Kristin laughed softly from across the kitchen. I leaned against the counter, still shirtless, plaid lounge pants hanging low on my hips, watching her with that half-smile I could never quite hide. She tried not to look, but her eyes always betrayed her.
The front door swung open before either of us could move, and the women of the Diamond spilled in like a storm. Boots thumped, coats rustled, voices overlapped. The smell of cold air and perfume filled the house.
“Holy shit,” Tayla said, crossing her arms, smirking at me like she’d caught me in the act of existing. “That’s what you keep hidden under those oversized shirts and vests?”
Kristin snorted into her coffee.
“Tayla, don’t make me tell Jake you’re admiring me,” I said, grinning.
“Who said anything about admiring?” she shot back, eyes gleaming. Then she turned on Kristin. “Get in the truck.”
That was Tayla. Kipp’s sister, raised to win every argument and make sure you knew it. She’d been part of our circle long before any of us were old enough to drink, and bossing everyone around had become her love language.
“Why am I getting in the truck?” Kristin asked, setting her coffee on the counter.
“It’s Mimosa Saturday,” Nora said, frowning like that was the most obvious thing in the world.
Kristin groaned. “If I hadn’t forgotten it was Saturday, I wouldn’t have forgotten about mimosas. Let me get dressed.”
She turned toward me, flicking her head toward the bedroom in that silent way of hers that said move.
“Oh, god, we’re going to be here all day if he goes with her,” Fallon groaned. “Do you have champagne and orange juice?”
“No, and I’ll only be a second,” Kristin called.
“Confirmation Linc sucks in bed, finally,” Fallon cheered.
I slammed the bedroom door just to shut her up.
“She’s just an annoying little sister, that’s not even mine,” I said, shaking my head.
Kristin smiled as she pulled a sweater from the chair. “I’ll drop a few hints about how good you actually are in bed,” she teased, walking into my arms.
“Don’t you dare. Let them think they’re right. Only you need to know they’re wrong.”
Her laugh was low and quiet against my chest, her fingers tracing the back of my neck.
“I’m serious,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “You girls get loud when you’re together. Just keep your eyes open today.”
Kristin arched a brow, not buying the shift in tone. “You think whoever was prowling the fence line is going to stroll into the café for mimosas?”
“I think people do stupid things when they feel untouchable,” I said. “And until I know who’s been creeping around, I don’t want anyone letting their guard down. Not you, not Nora, not Tayla, not Fallon. Got it?”
Her teasing faded. “You want to call Fred, don’t you?”
“I’m already planning on it.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re so overprotective sometimes.”
“Maybe. But that old man’s the one making sure you come home in one piece.”
She reached for her vest, her voice softer. “I’ll text when we’re done and let you know when we’re on our way home.”
“Do that,” I said, watching her pull her hair up, the morning light catching on her cheekbones.
She grinned over her shoulder. “You’re going to worry all day, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
“Well, don’t stress too much, I’ll be fine.” She gave me a quick kiss and slipped into the bathroom.
I pulled out my phone and called Fred.
He answered on the second ring, the hum of the cafe in the background. “Morning, Lincoln.”
“Morning. Are you working the front today?”
“I am, I take it, the girls are on their way in.”
“They are,” I said. “Fred, keep an eye out for them, will you? Just make sure no one’s hanging around that doesn’t belong.”
He didn’t ask why. He didn’t need to. “Are you still having trouble out there? Nash was telling me about it the other day” Nash and his dad hadn’t always been close, but over the last few years, old hurts were forgiven and grandkids could apparently chase away demons that haunted him.
“Something’s off. I’m not sure what yet.”
“I’ll keep watch,” he said quietly. “And I’ll keep your wife close. You’ve got my word.”
“Appreciate it.”
“You always do,” he said, then hung up.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and stood for a moment, letting the silence settle again. The air smelled like coffee and pine, warm from the fire I’d kept going since dawn. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world might hold steady after all.
But I knew better.
Kristin’s jacket still hung over the back of a chair, one sleeve trailing on the floor. Her glove sat by the door, her half-finished mug of coffee beside mine. She moved through my life like she’d always been here, filling the space without trying.
The floor creaked behind me, and I turned to see her leaning in the doorway. Hair tied up, my flannel half-tucked into her jeans. She looked like every definition of home I’d ever wanted.
“Be good, cowboy,” she said, voice soft.
“Always.” She walked into my open arms and I kissed her like I’d never see her again.
When we pulled apart she smiled with her eyes still closed. “Who needs to get buzzed from mimosas, when you’ve got those lips.” Her smile was intoxicating and I kissed the side of her neck.
The house felt too quiet the second the sound of their truck faded.
The yard was peaceful. The kind of peace that made a man suspicious.
I finished my coffee, rinsed both mugs, and turned on the old radio sitting by the window.
Static filled the room before a country song cut through, something soft and familiar about the way love stayed even when it hurt.
I couldn’t focus.
I pulled up the security feed instead. Kipp had hooked the cameras back up yesterday, and I could see every angle of the yard. The barn. The north fence. The gate. The images flickered in crisp black and white, no movement anywhere—just falling snow.
It should have been enough to ease me. It wasn’t.
Old instincts don’t fade; they dig in. Every still shadow looked like a threat waiting to move. Every gust of wind across the camera lens made my pulse climb.
I grabbed my coat and stepped outside.
The air hit like a wall, cold and sharp. Snow crunched under my boots as I crossed to the fence. The gate latch was firm; the tracks from last night were filled in with fresh powder. Nothing looked out of place.
And yet, every nerve stayed alert.
I followed the fence line toward the creek, scanning the tree line. Frost clung to the wire, sparkling under the thin sunlight. Somewhere far off, a crow called. The only movement came from a lone horse near the far post, shifting in the snow.
I crouched, gloved hand brushing the ground. No new prints. No signs of disturbance.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe.
I turned back toward the house, the chimney trailing smoke, the roof white and clean. The thought of her sitting with the girls in town made my chest ease just enough to let me breathe.
When I stepped back inside, warmth wrapped around me again. The radio still played low. I poured another cup of coffee and sat at the table.
The phone buzzed against the wood.
Fred: Girls just walked in. All good.
Relief hit, quiet but solid.
Me: Thanks.
Fred: Always. You be careful out there.
I set the phone down, leaned back in my chair, and let the quiet fill in around me again.
The fire popped. The clock ticked.
I thought about calling Kipp, then decided against it. The guys had done enough these last few days. Until we knew who had been watching the ranch, it was better to keep it contained.
The snow kept falling steadily, soft against the windows.
I stood, crossed to the door, and watched the light shift over the hills. The storm from last night had settled into something gentle, almost kind. But I knew better than to mistake calm for safety.
Because calm never lasted.
Not here.