Chapter 5
Rea waved him off like he was a minor inconvenience in her perfectly staged world. "Oh, darling, don't let the domestic bliss blind you."
It wasn't the domestic bliss doing a number on him. It was the woman in the apron. He could still feel the way her silk fine hair felt draped over his body or how her ass nestled up against his dick. Hadn't been able to shake it. Or maybe it was because he hadn’t tried hard enough.
By the flush on her cheeks, she was remembering it too.
Good. Misery loved company.
Vivi stepped forward. "I'm not leaving, so you can save your bellowing for someone else."
“Bellowing? I don't bellow."
"Darling," Rea said pleasantly. "You're bellowing."
"Christ." He dragged a hand down the back of his neck. These two were going to be the death of him. "I came in to say she can stay."
"Don't be rude,” Vivi said. “The she in question is standing right here. Address me."
Boone wanted to scream but he was afraid to be accused of bellowing again. He glowered instead. while stepping fully into the room.
“You can stay.” Then to Rea. “But she’s your responsibility.”
“Old news, Boone,” Rea said, clapping her hands like she’s announcing the weather. “She’s staying in your room. You'll take the guest quarters."
“What?” he barked. “It’s basically a room above the barn.”
“It’s cozy."
The guest quarters above the barn were what realtors might generously describe as rustic charm and Boone called barely standing.
The place still smelled of hay and horse, the floorboards groaned like they were auditioning for a haunted house, and the shower only managed warm if it was the thick of the summer.
A single narrow bed sat beneath the slanted window overlooking the pasture. The kitchenette had one working burner, three chipped mugs, and a coffee maker that looked older than Boone.
More importantly, it was about as far from his bedroom as he could get while still staying on his own property. Which, he was beginning to realize, was probably a necessity.
"Fine," he said. "She gets the room." Which meant she’d be sleeping in his bed—mixing her scent with his.
"I don't mind if you keep your clothes in there. Don't worry, I'm totally low-maintenance. Mostly."
The idea of her sleeping in his bed every night did something dark and territorial to his spine. He hated that he didn’t hate it.
God help him.
Rea waved a hand like she was dismissing the minor detail of upending Boone's entire life. "Of course, she'll need to carry her weight around the barn—help with chores, learn the ropes. That's the deal. Fair and square. A true ranch life experience."
Boone ran a hand through his hair. "Chores.
Fine." An extra set of hands might actually be useful with Eli deploying in a few weeks and Colter taking over the veterinary clinic.
Even a manicured, uncalloused pair. He was absolutely not going to think about those hands any more than he already had. "But this isn't a hotel."
Vivi smirked. "Deal. Just don't expect me up at dawn without coffee."
"Great," he muttered. "A coffee-dependent houseguest."
Rea didn’t miss a beat. "Isn't he adorable when he's annoyed? He gets that from my Marvis."
Boone’s grandfather, who’d been his north star, was the man who had built this ranch board by board and taught Boone everything worth knowing about the land, about loyalty, about what it meant to love something so much it became part of your bones.
Marvis had been gone three years now, and the grief still had sharp edges if you caught it wrong.
"I am not adorable," he said.
"I agree," Vivi said, studying him in this unsettling way that made him feel like he’d given away something he hadn’t meant to. "You bellow, you frown, and you're allergic to laughing."
"Allergic my ass," he said—though she had a point.
There hadn't been much laughter in this house lately.
What had been the point? Grief and laughter didn't exactly go hand in hand.
He'd gotten used to the quiet—relied on it—and then she'd walked in and started filling up the silence like it was empty space just waiting to be claimed.
"You don't belong here," he said quieter this time. Almost like he was reminding himself.
He wasn't sure what he expected. Tears, maybe. A tantrum? A well-aimed knee? She didn't do any of those things. Instead, she stepped right up to him—toe to toe—something very few people ever did.
"I do belong," she stated with confidence. "And Rea says I'm staying, so I’m staying. You're just going to have to deal with it."
"See? Isn't this fun? Everyone wins. Chores, laughter, biscuits, and a charming roommate dynamic." Rea looked between them with the same satisfied look that she gave when she’d masterminded a situation to her liking. "Boone, try to keep up. Vivi, make sure he doesn't bite anyone before breakfast."
Boone groaned. He'd lost this round and he knew it.
He looked at Vivi. "Barn. Five AM."
She choked on her frou-frous coffee. "Five AM?"
If she was staying, he would set the terms.
"Too early?"
"Nope." She lifted her chin. "I'll be there with my boots on."
His eyes dropped briefly to those ridiculous pink boots, then came back up to her face. "I give it one day in those boots before the blisters will get too big to walk.”
"We'll see," she said—though she didn't sound entirely sure.
"Yeah." He held her gaze a beat too long. "We will."