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“Three Rangers,” Sheriff Tate said.

Everyone looked at him.

He shrugged. “I’m calling Wolf.”

Trigger nodded immediately. “And Saint.”

“Havoc,” Mace added.

“Blaze and Ace too,” Trigger said.

Rylie raised an eyebrow. “Are we opening a cabinet or invading a country?”

“Both,” Mace answered.

I looked at him. “Do you always solve problems this way?”

“Which way?”

“With an army?”

“We’re Rangers. It would be rude not to invite the others.”

The corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it.

Mace noticed.

He always noticed.

Our eyes met, and the noise in the room seemed to fade. The feeling between us wasn’t the nervous attraction we’d shared as teenagers. That had been sweet and uncertain.

This was neither.

Mace was a man who had spent fifteen years becoming stronger, harder, and more capable than the boy I remembered. His shoulders filled the black shirt he wore. A scar disappeared beneath one sleeve. When he watched me, I felt as if he saw the woman I had become and wanted to know every part of her.

I wanted to know him too.

That was the problem.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

Heat rushed through me.

Sheriff Tate cleared his throat.

I stepped away from Mace.

He looked toward the sheriff. “You need a cough drop?”

“I need you to remember we’re standing in my living room.”

“I was standing.”

“You were doing more than standing.”

“I didn’t touch her.”

“Your eyes did.”