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“I stole my first kiss seven months ago.”
“Seven months?” Ivan repeated. How had he not known? He and Dylan shared pretty tight quarters to be keeping that kind of secret.
“Yeah,” Dylan replied wistfully. “Aspects of our relationship heated up pretty quickly, but others took a while to develop into something deeper…at least for one of us.”
“Seven months?”
Dylan set the coffee mug down and scowled at him. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“How’d you keep me in the dark this entire time?”
Dylan snorted. “Dude, you’d sleep through a freight train running through the house.”
Ivan arched a brow but couldn’t deny his claim. He’d always been a heavy sleeper. How many times had his parents woken him from a dead sleep to get into the storm shelter on their Kansas farm? Tornadoes sounded eerily similar to trains, and Ivan would’ve slept through them until it was too late if not for his folks. He fought off a hard shiver at the mere thought of a tornado. As much as he loved spring and planting season, Ivan dreaded the tornado-producing storm systems that came with spring and summer. Luckily, tornadoes weren’t nearly as common in the foothills of the mountains where the ranch was situated, but Ivan had a hard time convincing his brain of that when the skies turned black and the wind whirled and whistled.
“And we were really careful,” Dylan added, completely oblivious to Ivan’s inner turmoil. “Harry tried to convince me we were only experiencing lust, and that we didn’t have enough in common to form a meaningful bond.” A smile tugged at Dylan’s lips and a chuckle rumbled in his chest. Then his eyes took on a faraway expression, and Ivan doubted he was even aware of his presence. “I was more stubborn than she was about the subject and was determined Harry would accept our love as real and not just a fling.”
Alarm bells should’ve sounded in Ivan’s head, and not little whimsical chimes either. Big-ass air raid sirens that could wake the dead because Harry’s initial denial sounded a lot like the bullshit Ivan was feeding himself and Rory. But no bells trilled. No sirens wailed. Just another sappy-ass sigh that snapped his friend back to reality. “Waited her out, did you?” Ivan asked. “Wore her down?”
Dylan blinked the room into focus and scrunched up his brow as if trying to locate the dangling conversation thread. Then he nearly blinded Ivan with a megawatt smile. “I was patient. That was the secret. I showed her unwavering affection even when she got scared and pushed me away.”
“Still can’t believe I missed the signs. Yeah, I’m a heavy sleeper, but I’m usually more observant.”
“At first, you were too busy trying to convince yourself you were jealous of Finley falling for Kieran.” Dylan arched a brow when Ivan opened his mouth to dispute…what part, exactly? There was a lot to unpack in that one accusation. “You were never in love with Finley,” Dylan said firmly. “You were in love with the idea of him. Finley was the type of guy you thought you needed.” Dylan scoffed. “No way. He’s too nice. You need someone to stand up to you. Give you hell when you need it.”
Ivan thought of the spitfire he’d held in his arms all night long and didn’t disagree with Dylan’s assessment. Any of it. He had loved Finley, still did, but he’d never been in love with him.
“The way you look at Rory, though…” Dylan let his words trail off and let his smirk do the talking.
Ivan had stomached as much bonding as he could on coffee and carbs. He’d need a belly full of protein if he was going to listen to Dylan dole out relationship advice like Dr. Phil. As if reading his mind, his friend threw up his hands in surrender, then mimed zipping his lips. The silence lasted until they were halfway to the big ranch house.
“Harry and I are talking about getting a place off the ranch, so you might have the old homestead to yourselves soon.” Cue the return of the smirk.
Ivan knew damn well he hadn’t included Finley in the equation. He was happy as a clam sharing the small cabin with Kieran. All the things Ivan and Rory could get up to alone in that house played in his mind like a naughty montage. “He’s not staying,” Ivan said. But he wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to convince?
Dylan’s smartass smirk said he had the same question.
The effort, care, and organization Harry put into feeding her people wowed Rory. He’d said as much when he’d arrived to find her sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and going over her plans for the morning on her laptop. The previous day, Rory had learned that she kept both paper and digital copies of her recipes. She stored printed versions in binders in her office, which she’d arranged by meal or occasion. He could happily spend hours or days flipping through them. Some she’d found on the internet and tweaked to suit the people she cared for either by volume or ingredient preferences. But most had come from her grandmother. She kept the handwritten versions of those cherished recipes in her safe deposit box at the bank to preserve them for future generations.
“In case Finley or I have kids someday,” she’d said wistfully.
Harry and Rory had spent a lot of time sharing stories about their Southern grandmothers while baking and prepping food for poker night. It was great to talk to someone who understood the significance of Eustice Stuart’s role in Rory’s life, especially during his formative years. While Harry didn’t know Rory’s grandmother, she’d grown up with her very own version. So their first foray working together in the kitchen had been relaxed and wasn’t influenced by a time crunch. Rory expected the vibe to be different when he arrived at the ranch the following morning. Sunday was a day of relaxation for most of the residents, but not for Harry. She outlined her tasks for the week and did as much meal prep as possible. Her dedication to her tasks was evident in the serious expression on her face when he’d entered the room. She’d shut the laptop quickly and forced a smile to her face. Was she upset he’d arrived early and interrupted her quiet time?
“Would you like me to come back?” Rory asked.
Harry stiffened. “What? No. Why would you ask that? I’m so glad you’re here. Now that I have an extra set of hands, I want to be a bit more adventurous with the menu.”
“You seemed overly serious when I walked in.”
“And you were worried I was having second thoughts about you helping?” Harry asked thoughtfully. She eased off her stool and hugged Rory. “Not in the least. If anything, I would like to have you full-time.” Harry stood back and smiled at him. “I’m preparing to make some big changes in my life, and I was overthinking things when you walked in. I’m much better now. Ready to get started?”
“Definitely. What did you have in mind?”
Harry winked, then launched into the menu she’d planned. “You have a wonderful flair for flavors. I’d really like to jazz up the fried potatoes and the scrambled eggs.”
“Diced onions and peppers in both is probably overkill,” Rory said. He took a sip of the coffee Ivan had made for him and considered his options. The perfection of the java sidetracked him and reminded Rory of the kisses they’d exchanged while waiting for the pot to brew.You’re doing it again. Get your shit together.
Rory brought the room into focus and found Harry smiling at him. “What?”
