“That’s it?”
Law leaned one hip against the edge of the table, folding his arms loosely across his chest. The lights from the yard caught in his eyes.
“That bother you?”
Sage huffed a quiet breath through his nose. “Your dad made it sound like I’d just been handed a job offer.”
Law’s mouth twitched.
And he suddenly found that very fucking sexy.
“Hey, you two! Get yo asses over here,” Winter yelled from across the lawn, breaking the moment.
Micah danced over and snagged Sage’s arm. Sage shook his head, laughing as Micah tried to drag him toward the grass.
Law watched, amused, and followed at a slower pace.
Lowering into one of the lawn chairs, his coffee forgotten in his hand, the wood creaked under his weight as he settled back. He watched Sage get pulled into the chaos on the grass.
Smoke from the small bonfire drifted through the warm Tennessee night, crickets humming beneath a sky littered with stars. Firelight flickered, throwing moving shadows across the faces around it.
His sister put her guitar away and turned on the surround sound speakers tucked into the eaves on the back porch. The opening beats of Sweet Home Alabama started playing.
Sage synced his moves with Micah’s rhythm, and someone gave a cat-call whistle.
“Hell yeah,” Boston said and jumped to his feet, dancing his way across the yard to join Micah, Sage, and several of his family. The teenagers were up, his younger sisters and brothers laughing and moving with the music.
He’d brought Sage here to relax—and it had worked.
The Rusty Spur lingered at the edge of his thoughts—the envelope, and the quiet that came after.
Law didn’t ask. Not tonight. It still bugged him that he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, but he would. It was only a matter of time.
But all of that could wait.
The only thing that mattered was the slender blond beauty dancing on the grass beneath the stars and moon.
The firelight caught the curve of Sage’s smile.
There wasn’t a question in it anymore.
Something settled low and certain in Law’s chest.
Yeah.
That’s mine.
And I’m not letting the world touch him.
Sage let Boston spin him once before shoving him back with a laugh, the warm night air sliding over his skin as he turned.
“Knock it off,” he grumbled.
Boston just grinned and came right back at him, hips swinging in a way that should’ve been illegal.
Sage laughed, shaking his head—bass thumped through the ground, a steady pulse under his boots—
—and felt it.
