Chapter 13 #3
We work like this for twenty minutes, side by side, our elbows close.
Then she shifts, rolls her neck, and winces at the tightness.
Before I realize it, my hand finds the back of her neck, my thumb pressing into the knot at the base of her skull.
She exhales through her teeth, her body relaxing, and the sound she makes is quiet enough to miss if you’re not paying attention.
But I am paying attention.
“Come here.” My voice is low.
She glances at me, one eyebrow raised in that “we’re working” way, but her mouth betrays her, fighting a smile it can’t hold back.
I pull her chair closer. She resists for about three seconds before settling onto my lap, facing the screen, her back against my chest, my chin resting on her shoulder.
My arms wrap around her to reach my keyboard, and she adjusts the monitor without a word, as if this is simply logistics, optimizing our workspace, which happens to be my body.
Pixel relocates from the desk to Jenna’s ankle. Crowley opens his one good eye and gives us a look as if to say not again, then goes back to sleep.
My wife in my lap, our cats arranged around us, her fingers flying across the keyboard while mine work the recovery drive behind her.
I can feel her heartbeat through her back.
The constant low hum of desire underlies everything now—the evidence, the threat, the family meeting, and the fear.
We got married yesterday. The world is pressing in, and she’s building a federal case against my chest, yet I can’t help but notice how her weight settles into my hips.
“Calibri 10.5,” I murmur into her hair. “That’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said in this room.”
“You need higher standards.” Her voice has dropped half a register, and her typing slows.
I press a brief kiss behind her ear—a promise for later—and we continue working.
An hour later, she adjusts her glasses and presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose, a familiar processing gesture.
“The family meeting. I should present the evidence and walk them through the structure.”
My chest tightens. She’s right. She knows LandCorp’s operations from the inside and can answer the questions Daniel will ask, as well as the ones Ben will be pondering.
But putting her in a room full of Suttons, both branches, the feud still raw, and Gabriel’s name on a document means the woman who’s hidden in corners for years will be on full display.
“Are you sure?”
She gives me that look, the one that says I’ve already expressed my desire to burn it down. Keep up.
I almost laugh. “Okay. You handle the presentation. I’ll take care of the tech.”
The corner of her mouth tugs into an almost smile. She turns back to the screen. Her hand drops to my knee, and I cover it with mine. Her fingers curl into my palm and grip tightly.
We work through the afternoon in the comfortable silence of two people who no longer need words to communicate.
I refill her coffee twice more. Each time, I set the mug beside her keyboard, and her hand finds it without looking, squeezing mine in acknowledgment. A language we created without effort.
By late afternoon, the case architecture is complete, clean, and devastating. Water rights, mineral surveys, environmental sabotage, corporate shell structures, and Gabriel’s planted document are all organized for a federal prosecutor’s desk.
Jenna saves the final file and leans back. Pixel is now asleep on her lap. My hand rests on the back of her chair, my thumb gently rubbing her shoulder.
I lean in and press my mouth to her temple, holding it there, not with heat or hunger, but with gratitude for saving a family she’s known for days because that’s what partners do.
I make the calls while standing by the kitchen window. Late afternoon light streams across the south pasture. In the distance, I spot the fence line where I found her. The place where I first saw the woman I knew I was going to marry.
I call Daniel first. “Family meeting. Tomorrow. Havenridge. Everyone.”
“Ben and Jacob?”
“Everyone.”
Next is Henry, his tone low and unhurried. “I’ll tell Ben. He’ll be there.” He doesn’t ask any questions because Henry understands everything he needs to know from the word “everyone.”
Dad is last. He picks up on the fourth ring. I hear something mechanical in the background. He’s in the hangar, tinkering with his helicopter again.
“Family meeting. Tomorrow morning. Havenridge. Both ranches.”
Silence hangs in the air, heavy with a decade-long feud and the pride of a man being asked to step onto his brother’s land.
“Havenridge,” he repeats.
“Henry’s hosting.”
More silence. “I’ll be there.”
He hangs up first. That’s Dad for you. He gives an answer, takes his exit, and processes alone. I inherited my silence from him. Daniel got the authority. Gabriel got the storm. And all three of us share Mom’s stubbornness, which means tomorrow will be interesting.
Four calls. Four minutes to set in motion the first time every Sutton will be in one room since the feud between Dad and Ben changed everything.
Jenna stands in the doorway with Pixel perched on her shoulder and a clean flash drive in her hand. This one isn’t the yellow-and-black drive that survived a goat; it’s a new one filled with the work we accomplished today.
I take her in. My wife. The woman who has finally stopped running.
“Ready?” I ask.
She nods, a single, confident motion.
The storm has arrived, but this time, we’re ready for it.