Chapter 3
Penelope
I try to steady my breathing, sitting stiff in the passenger seat of Cas and Chris’s patrol truck. My pulse still races, my hands trembling in my lap. Stupid tire. And damn Mark for taking out my spare, like even broken-down freedom was too much to allow me.
“Here we are.” I glance up as the truck passes under a carved wooden sign swinging gently in the evening breeze: Hawthorne Ranch and B&B.
The gravel road stretches ahead, long and winding, flanked by fields that roll endlessly into the horizon.
Dusk has fallen, but I can still make out the grandness of the ranch, a sprawling wooden structure of weathered timbers and wide porches, classic Wyoming cowboy grandeur.
Cars crowd the driveway, and beyond them, the land glows orange and purple under the last light of the sunset.
Horses nicker in the distance, and the smell of hay and wood smoke curls through the crisp evening air.
I glance at Cas, and those ocean-blue eyes meet mine, steady and calm, anchoring me more than the truck ever could.
The first thing I noticed when I met him was his size.
Broad shoulders, tall enough that I had to crane my neck to look at him.
Wearing a black Stetson that somehow made him look even more dangerous.
I startled instantly, my body remembering all the wrong things Mark taught me: how never to trust a man bigger than me, how size could always be used as a weapon.
But then Cas spoke, his voice calm, steady as bedrock. And when he smiled, dimples flashing, lips warm and full, my fear wavered. His dark hair, cropped neat under the brim of his hat, and the subtle stubble framing his face somehow only highlighted features far too handsome for me to be noticing.
Get yourself out of the gutter, Penny. The last thing you need is a crush on the sheriff.
Cas parks, gravel crunching under the tires, and before I can gather myself, both men are out.
My heart jumps when Cas opens my door, offering his hand.
I take it, hoping he won’t notice me trembling.
His palm is warm, steady but rough with calluses.
I swallow as I step down. For a second, the smells of the place hit me, fresh-cut hay, wood smoke, and something savory drifting from the kitchen…
the tightness in my chest eases a little.
The screen door creaks, and a woman bustles out onto the wide porch. Apron tied at her waist, wooden spoon clutched like a scepter , her smile big enough to light the night. She looks like she just left a stove full of simmering pots behind. This must be Cas’s mother.
Chris barrels up first, grinning like a prodigal son, and she pulls him into a hug. Then she turns to Cas, her whole face softening. “You brought someone?” she smiles, delighted, before stretching up on tiptoe to hug her son. His large frame folds around her small one with ease.
“Mama, this is Penny,” Cas says, smiling at me. “She had a flat tire and no place to go.” Then he points at his mom. “Penny, this is my mama, Lily Hawthorne.”
Her eyes, Cas’s same ocean blue, land on me. Sharp, assessing, but not unkind. I squirm under the weight of them. She’s beautiful, with light brown hair pinned in a twist and skin glowing with the kind of wrinkles only deep love and laughter can carve into a woman.
“I’m Penny. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Oh, please. Call me Lily.” Her smile widens.
Before I can react, Lily pulls me into her arms, making me startle. “Poor girl, all alone on the road with a flat tire.”
For a moment, I freeze. No one’s hugged me like that since… well, my mom.
She studies my face when she lets go. Shame prickles over my bruises, but she doesn’t mention them. Instead she says, “You have a room here for as long as you want. And dinner’s ready, you must be hungry.” Looping her arm through mine, she guides me toward the steps.
“Now let’s get you inside. Pork chops and mashed potatoes are waiting, and it’s turning chilly fast. Early September nights sneak up on you around here.”
She chatters as she ushers me in, warmth radiating off her like the hearth fire I can already smell.
The moment we step inside, noise and life washes over me.
A big farmhouse table stretches long enough to seat an army, already groaning under platters of food, golden roast pork, buttery mashed potatoes, crisp green beans, fresh-baked bread.
The clatter of dishes, bursts of laughter, and hum of voices hit me like a wave.
It’s too much all at once, too bright, too loud.
For a second, I want to shrink back, tuck into a corner and disappear.
But the smells…rich butter, sizzling pork, and baked bread, tangle with something deep in me, and I can’t move.
Cas stays close, so close I feel the heat radiating off him at my side. Every time I glance up, his eyes are on me. Grounded. Watchful. Like he’s making sure I don’t get swallowed whole by the strangeness of it all.
“Everyone,” Lily calls over the room, her voice carrying like she’s done this a thousand times. “This here is Penny. She’ll be stayin’ with us for a bit.”
Chairs scrape, heads turn, and suddenly I’m face-to-face with the Hawthornes.
A tall man with dark hair peppered at the temples and piercing green eyes steps forward, his smile easy and warm.
He looks like an older, broader version of Cas.
“Joshua Hawthorne,” he says in a low southern drawl, reaching out to shake my hand.
“But you just call me Josh. Welcome, darlin’.
Any friend of my boy’s is family here.” His grip is firm, not crushing, and the kindness in his eyes feels like a blanket thrown over my shoulders.
“This loud one,” Cas says, jerking his chin toward a man with light hair and his father’s same green eyes, “is Ethan.”
“Loud but lovable,” Ethan adds with a wink, lifting his beer.
“And that’s Jude,” Cas continues, nodding toward a man on the couch. He just nods back, eyes flicking away to the TV. Dark hair, green eyes, just as devastatingly handsome as his brothers.
So many names, so many faces. I feel like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s family photo.
“His twin,” Cas explains, “Dex, he runs Midnight Rodeo. He’s at the bar tonight, but he’s Jude’s copy. Just opposite energy.”
Laughter ripples through the room, warm and easy, drawing me out of my nerves for half a second.
“Then there’s Jace,” Josh adds proudly, his chest puffing. “Looks just like me, but he’s ridin’ bulls for a livin’. On tour right now.”
“And last but not least,” Lily gestures to a girl at the table, “our Grace.”
Grace glances up from her phone, rolling her eyes but smiling with her mother’s warmth. Beautiful already, with soft light-brown hair and her father’s striking green eyes.
“And this here’s Asher,” Ethan says, gesturing to another man leaning casually against the wall. Tall, dark blond hair falling across amber eyes, cowboy to his bones. “He ain’t blood, but he might as well be.”
“Good to meet you,” Asher says, tipping his chin my way.
I murmur a nervous hello, cheeks burning under so many sets of eyes.
I know they see the bruises, the swelling around my eye, the split in my lip.
Their gazes linger just a second too long.
But no one asks. No one pushes. Instead, they smile, nod, and make room for me at their table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Lily waves me toward an empty chair. My heart beats faster as I slide into it, the scrape of wood on wood echoing louder than it should. The smell of pork chops and mashed potatoes drifts up, rich and buttery, and my stomach twists with both hunger and nerves.
Josh takes the head of the table, green eyes twinkling as he leads everyone in prayer. His voice rumbles low and warm, steady as the land outside, and for the first time in a long time I close my eyes without fear.
When I open them, I feel it. Cas’s gaze, unwavering and intent, pinned on me from across the table. He doesn’t look away when I catch him staring. Instead, one corner of his mouth curves, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to my insides.
Heat flares in my cheeks, and I drop my eyes to my plate. My fork trembles slightly in my hand as laughter ripples around the table, the Hawthornes teasing and joking, passing dishes with the ease only family can have.
I should feel out of place here. I should feel like an intruder. And yet, with every smile tossed my way, every helping spooned onto my plate without me asking, every soft “you’re welcome, darlin’” in Josh’s accent, something inside me loosens.
But it’s Cas who undoes me most. His quiet, unwavering attention. Like he’s making sure I don’t disappear in all this noise. Like he sees me.
And Lord help me, why do I feel warm when he’s looking?