6. Wren
WREN
“Our father started it,” Rhett says. “We finished it.” He says it like something heavy, and it’s obvious there’s more to the story.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You didn’t,” Boone says. His tone isn’t as easy as it usually is, and he sounds more like his brothers.
“Our parents died while we were deployed,” Rhett says.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, more gently. The information makes me view their home differently. This cabin isn’t just lacking unnecessary comforts and warmth. It’s three men living in a place their father began, finishing what was left behind. Maybe it doesn’t even feel fully like theirs.
Boone refills my water without asking, Cade reaches for another biscuit, and Rhett tips his bowl to scoop up the last spoonful of stew.
“So where are we headed tomorrow?” Boone’s usual voice is back, shifting the conversation to lighter territory.
“I brought my map. I’d like to get your input,” I say.
When we’re all finished eating, Rhett clears the table, again refusing my offer to help.
Boone pours coffee for all of us, and Cade disappears, only to return a moment later with a topographic map that’s larger than mine.
It turns out to be better than mine, too, with pencil notes he’s added that provide a lot of useful information about the terrain.
“What are your preliminary findings?” Rhett asks.
I meet his eyes and pause. I’d been so busy convincing myself this was a business dinner, yet I hadn’t decided how much business I actually wanted to share.
“I want to be careful about this,” I say as I lay my map over Cade’s. “Three days of fieldwork aren’t enough to make conclusions.”
“Understood.” Rhett’s tone tells me he does understand, and it makes me more willing to keep going.
“Wildlife is moving through the region, but their expected paths are off,” I say. “It could be seasonal or due to natural variation, but the pattern bothers me.”
“Which is?” Rhett asks.
“The affected areas line up along corridors that connect remote passes to old access roads.”
“Mark the areas,” Rhett says. Then, after a beat, he adds, “Please.”
As I do, Cade’s jaw tightens, and the men exchange glances I can’t read. Boone loses every trace of easy charm, and Cade goes so still, he looks carved from the same wood as the walls. Their interest is clearly more than casual.
I stop with my pencil over the map. “You’re seeing something.”
Rhett’s mouth is a thin, flat line as he looks at the lines I drew, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. Then he says, “We’re seeing the terrain differently.”
I look around at each of them, and instead of seeing three backcountry guides considering routes, I now see three former soldiers who are looking at my map like it’s just become a battlefield.
Whatever they’re thinking, they don’t say it. As a unit, they’re infuriatingly unreadable.
I lower the pencil again. “Do you know something that affects my work?”
Rhett’s voice is careful when he answers. “We don’t want our guesses contaminating your report.”
It’s the same thing I told him when I was collecting samples of the unidentified residue today, so how can I argue?
I stare at him for a long moment, trying not to get lost in the rich brown of his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else. Cade and Boone are silent, too.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s stick with what I can document.”
Rhett’s dark gaze returns to mine, and he nods once.
He shifts the conversation to route planning for tomorrow, and I welcome their input, pleased when their suggestions are close to what I was already planning.
Whatever they might or might not know, maybe we’ll find more evidence out there tomorrow.
At one point, Rhett presses a spot near the corner of the map to flatten a crease, and the paper slides under my hand. I move to hold it, he reaches for it at the same time, and his hand ends up covering mine.
It’s an innocent touch, but my body doesn’t interpret it that way. The warmth of his skin immediately sets me on fire, heat blazing up my arm, into my chest, and down to my core.
His fingers are heavy over mine, his palm is rough, and my body wants more of his touch in more places. What would his rough palm feel like sliding down my arm, up my leg, or cupping my breast?
He doesn’t move his hand right away. In fact, both of us freeze, and the moment isn’t lost on Cade and Boone, whose eyes drop to where their brother’s hand covers mine.
“Sorry.” Rhett clears his throat and lifts his hand, and I try to act normal.
First, I need to start breathing again.
We spend another half hour reviewing terrain, and the conversation stays focused, but the charged feeling that came with Rhett’s accidental touch never goes away.
Eventually, I close my notebook. “I should go get some sleep.”
Thankfully, they don’t argue.
Boone gets to his feet first. “I’ll walk you out.”
But he’s not the only one. All three of them follow me toward the door.
In the narrow alcove of the entryway, Boone retrieves my coat and holds it out for me. His hands brush my shoulders through the fabric as he helps me into it, and even the light touch through a barrier is enough to provoke the butterflies in my stomach.
Boone opens the door, and all three brothers follow me out.
The porch light is on, but beyond its reach, the forest is black and silent. I don’t need to worry about nocturnal animals, though, because Boone is on one side of me, Rhett on the other, and Cade close behind.
My pulse ticks faster, and I want to tell them I can walk to my vehicle without an escort, much less three, but I don’t want to be rude. Part of me doesn’t even want to leave.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell them as Rhett opens my door.
“Come back, and we’ll feed you again,” Boone says.
“For work reasons?” I ask.
His eyes are warm. “Whatever reason gets you here.”
I get into my truck because continuing the conversation would be reckless in ways I don’t want to fully think about.
In my rearview mirror, I see all three of them watching me go.
Same height, same dark good looks, same eyes that seem to follow me even after trees come between us.
I tell myself I’m imagining that part, and as I drive back to my motel, I tell myself the dinner was professional, and the routes we planned matter more than the way Rhett’s hand felt on mine.
I’m not remembering Boone’s voice and replaying the way he said whatever gets you here, and I’m absolutely not thinking about Cade’s restraint and wondering what would happen if it broke.
I lie to myself during the whole drive back, and once I’m in bed, I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, still buzzing with electricity. It’s been a long, full day, and I’m tired enough that sleep should come quickly, but it doesn’t.
I’ve only known the Wilder brothers for three days, and I’m lying awake thinking about them. All three of them.
It’s wild. Wilder, an unhelpful part of my brain supplies.
I press the heel of my hand against my forehead. The problem isn’t that they’re attractive. That would be manageable.
What’s worse is the way Rhett leads effortlessly, the way Cade moves through the trees, and the way Boone explains local geography like he’s telling me a story instead of giving directions.
And beneath the men’s differences, their sameness keeps pulling at me. The way they stop as a unit and communicate with silent glances. The way they’re separate until something matters and they become one force with three bodies. The way they surrounded me on the way out to my truck …
Tomorrow, I’ll fully focus on my work. I’ll reposition cameras, collect better data, and avoid careless conclusions. Tomorrow night, I won’t let myself lie in bed thinking about three former Army Rangers who live in a cabin that feels more like an animal den.
But tonight, in the dark, I slip a hand into my pajamas and beneath the band of my underwear, where my flesh is sensitive and wet. It grows hotter and wetter when I imagine Rhett’s hand covering mine again, pressing, heavy and rough.
I imagine Cade watching with his laser focus, and Boone saying my name like a tease that plans to deliver.
With their imagined hands and voices and heat surrounding me, I take the edge off the ache that’s been building ever since I first laid eyes on them, and then I finally manage to fall asleep.