Chapter 4

Jackson

"Ma."

"Oh boy," my mother says, standing up and brushing the dust off her jeans. "Here we go."

I stop at the edge of the goat pen. My mom is inside, a few kids of the goat variety dancing around her feet and bleating. It's late afternoon, the petting farm having just closed and the last of the visitors driving off behind my back.

"You invited him to stay," I bite out.

"Mhm."

"That man," I add, having no idea how else to describe him.

My mom gazes at me impassionately. "Well, I sure wasn't going to make him walk to work every day, now was I?"

"We have company vehicles," I point out. And she damn well knows it.

She simply hums, bending down to pet one of the goats vying for her attention.

"It won't work," I say.

"What's that, dear?"

"Whatever you're trying to do," I answer a touch hotly.

"And what's that?"

I huff a breath. "I understand why Dad divorced you," I tell her, walking past toward the barn.

She laughs loudly. "I divorced him!" she calls after me. " Both times."

I find Remi inside the shade of the barn, laying out fresh hay for the animals. They get plenty of pellets and treats throughout the afternoon, so their evening meal is light. I wave, getting my brother's attention when I notice he's still not wearing his processor.

‘Did Mom tell you Ash will be staying in the house?' I sign, using a distinct name sign for Ash instead of spelling out the letters.

He nods. ‘ He makes good biscuits,' he signs back.

I snort, and my brother grins.

‘He's cute,' he signs coyly, to which I scowl. Remi laughs.

"The lot of you," I say, shaking my head. I add a signed, ‘Pests.'

Remi rolls his eyes. ‘You love us.'

I can't disagree with him. ‘Will you be in for dinner?'

My brother nods, and I give him a wave goodbye. He gets back to work as I head out of the barn. Snickerdoodle, our pony, kicks up her mane as I pass. I stop to give her a rub along her flank.

"How's it going, girl?"

She huffs against my side, headbutting me gently.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll bring some dates by later. How's that sound?"

She knocks against me again, and I pat her side before making my way toward the ranch house. The dairy girls are already inside for milking, the field closest to the house empty. Some of the workers, those who arrived early morning, are gone. But others remain, finishing up their evening duties.

Never a dull hour on the ranch.

I run into Lawson, my older brother, as I step inside the house. He's standing in the doorway, staring at the coatrack where a few fall jackets and a couple hats hang.

"Law?" I ask. "You all right?"

He startles, as if he hadn't heard me come in. "Yeah, fine," he says, kicking off his shoes. Lawson is the eldest of us at forty-two. Like our mom, he has brown eyes. In fact, he takes after her in just about everything but disposition. Lawson is calm, like that river that cuts through our property. Whereas Mom, she's the sea.

"Have you met Ashley yet?" I ask.

"No, just got home. Who's Ashley?"

"The new cook. Goes by Ash."

The wince on my brother's face isn't a surprise. Lawson has been having a rough go of it ever since Laura asked for a divorce. Bringing up her replacement is surely knocking a few bad memories loose.

"Come on," I tell him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll introduce you."

My brother nods and follows me down the hall. Ash is inside the kitchen, partway through dinner prep. Whatever he's making smells good enough to have my stomach voicing a rumble of approval.

"Ash?" I say softly, not wanting to startle the man. He turns with an expectant look on his face. "This is Lawson, my brother. He's a teacher at the combination middle-high school in town. Lawson, Ash Alcott."

"Nice to meet you," Lawson says, stepping forward to shake Ash's hand.

"Jesus," Ash says. "All of you."

"What's that?" I ask.

Ash huffs a small laugh as he drops Lawson's hand. "Nothing. You just all look alike. I hope everyone likes pasta. I wasn't sure what else to make because the fridge seems a little empty? But I found some chicken and figured I could spread the protein out using carbs."

"We're due for a grocery run," I admit, scrubbing the back of my neck as I think through tomorrow. "I'll have Colton go in the morning. If you want him to stock anything specific, just write it down."

Ash nods, looking between me and Lawson. My brother is staring off into space again. I clap him on the shoulder, steering him toward the door.

"We'll leave you to it," I tell Ash.

As our new houseguest turns back to the stove, my eyes, unbidden, skip down his body. First, to his exposed forearms and the blonde dusting of hair there. And then—despite my brain screaming at me to stop—to the swell of his ass beneath his apron strings.

My pulse kicks, and I grunt, turning swiftly away and following Lawson out the door. My brother is already halfway up the stairs, his gait slow as he takes the steps one at a time. I watch him go with a frown.

Once Lawson is out of sight, I hoof it the quarter mile home so I can clean up for dinner. Inside the shower, I scrub off the day's grime, using a brush under my fingernails and ignoring the way my cock tries to plump when I give it a cursory wash. I quickly banish thoughts of a certain round ass from my mind.

When I get back to the ranch house, it's six o'clock on the dot. The dining room is already filling up, my family present as usual, the remaining ranchers filing in through the door off the deck. Marty and Colleen are ribbing each other about their race back from the far fields, Marty claiming he won but Colleen denying it. My gaze catches on Ash as he comes in from the hallway, a large platter of rolls in his hands. His eyes find mine quickly, and he smiles, setting my heart off at a gallop.

"Ira is on the morning crew, right?" he asks, putting the rolls down near where I'm sitting.

"That's right," I answer.

"Good," he says in clear relief. "I didn't have time to make gluten-free rolls."

"You don't gotta do that," I tell him. "He's used to getting by."

Ash waves me off. "Please, it's not hard. I'll plan accordingly for breakfast and lunch. It's the least I can do."

Laura never bothered, but I don't tell Ash that. If he wants to cook gluten-free options for Ira, I won't stop him.

I simply hum in response, and Ash huffs a laugh, like I amuse him.

"Will you be joining us, Ashley?" my mom asks, taking a seat beside me. Her hair, threaded through with silver ever since she passed mid-fifty, is tied behind her in a loose ponytail.

"Sure," he answers. "I'll just grab the punch first."

Ash leaves the room, and Colton nudges my foot under the table. "Punch," he says, bouncing his eyebrows. I kick him in the shin, and he grunts.

"Boys," my mom says mildly.

Grabbing the platter of rolls, I take one and pass it along. Mealtimes at the Darling Ranch have always been chaotic. There's no waiting to begin, not with so many people coming and going around their work. If there's food on the table, it's fair game, which means, by the time Ash returns, the pasta has already been ransacked.

Ash takes a seat halfway down the table, seemingly happy, like usual. He's barely added a scoop of pasta to his plate when my dad asks, "So you ever seen a castration, Ash?"

Ash's eyes widen as my mom says, "What did I tell you about bringing up testicles at the dinner table, Hank? For Heaven's sake."

"It's a valid question," my dad shoots back. "Ball-handling is part of life at a cattle ranch."

Colton snickers, and Ash says, "I, uh. No, sir, I can't say I've had the pleasure."

My dad hums. "You will."

"Jesus," I groan. "Can we let the guy settle in for a damn day before y'all scare him off?"

Ash gives me a soft smile that feels much too warm, too pleased , so I return my focus to my dinner roll, slathering butter on top.

"Jackson can teach you about balls," Remi says, causing my butter knife to clatter to the table. The little shit . I shoot him a scowl, noticing his processor in place behind his ear. He grins at me as he adds, "He has plenty of experience."

"That he does," my dad says, completely oblivious to Remi's meaning. "He's been working this ranch since he was a toddler." He huffs a laugh before saying, "Shoulda seen him running through the milking barn in his birthday suit. Boy was always naked."

A few of the ranchers laugh as I groan.

Ash's eyes sparkle. "Does he still do that?" he asks my dad.

Lord .

"Nah," my dad answers. "Too old for fun, this one. He's all grown up now."

Ash's eyes slip down my torso as he says, "That he is."

Heat shoots square down my center, but I ignore it—and everybody —and take a big bite of my roll.

I choke a little when Colton says, "Well, there was that one time last year—"

" Colt. "

"—when he had one too many whiskeys and went skinny-dipping in the river," he finishes.

"I remember that," Colleen puts in from down the table, her voice full of amusement. "There were two full moons that night."

I hop up as the table erupts into laughter. "All right, all right," I grumble, grabbing my empty glass and making for the kitchen. Never mind that there's a pitcher of water at the table. I go to the tap and fill up my glass. After guzzling it down, I set the glass aside.

"Okay?" Ash asks from the doorway, apparently having followed me.

"Fine," I say, waving off his concern. Why he's concerned is a point I try not to think too heavily about.

"For what it's worth," he says slowly, his tone making me still, "I would've liked to see that."

I whip around and stare in shock as Ash exits the room, one question I hadn't even wanted to ask answered. Not that it matters one way or another who Ash is attracted to.

It doesn't.

Not even a little bit.

Not. At. All.

" Fucking hell ."

With a growl, I head back into the dining room. Fortunately, the rest of our meal passes without any more talk of testicles or full moons. Mom kindly shoos Ash when he tries to help clean up, telling him he's officially off the clock and that evening cleanup falls to the family. Ash takes a seat out on the porch as the ranchers head home. His chair rocks gently, the sun not yet starting to set, but it will soon.

"I think he fits here," my mom says quietly from beside me. Colton is carrying a stack of plates to the kitchen and Lawson is stacking glasses.

"Sure," I answer noncommittally. It's only been a day.

"Not everyone is your ex, Jackson."

I suck in a short breath, my muscles tensing. "Ma."

"I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well," I mutter. "You said he fit, too."

"And I was wrong," she says easily, even though I know the cost of her admitting that. My mom is stubborn. As unyielding as the mountains and just as hard at times. "He tried to fit, and that was the difference. He never sat outside and breathed the air."

"We've all gotta breathe."

"Jackson Darling, whatever am I going to do with you?" my mom says, not waiting for an answer before she walks off. A minute later, I hear, "Hank! Good Lord, man, you don't wash the glasses with the damn Brillo pad. Have you learned nothing?"

I shake my head, pausing when I see Lawson standing still at the end of the table. There's a collection of forks in his hand.

"Law?"

He startles.

"You sure you're all right?" I ask.

He grabs a few more forks. "I will be," he says simply before walking off.

Letting out a sigh, I head onto the porch. Ash glances my way before looking out over the land again.

"This place is beautiful," he says.

"Maine isn't?" I ask, taking a seat next to him.

He makes a soft, thoughtful sound. "It is. It's gorgeous there. The coast…it has its own kind of grandeur. The salty air. Blue as far as the eye can see. But this…" He shakes his head a little. "It's rough here. The land, the mountains, even the work you all do. It's like you've carved a life out of hardness, out of harshness . And I like that."

"You like hard work," I say, not quite a question. I already gleaned as much from the way he jumped in today, happily setting to his tasks.

His smile goes a little crooked on one end. "I like a challenge," he answers.

Clearing my throat, I look toward the west. The sun is nearly to the mountains now. "Do you have any questions? Like you said, I kinda threw you to the wolves today. But you did well."

Ash hums, precipitating me to look back his way. "You're a good boss, aren't you?"

"I try to be," I admit, although I don't particularly like the praise. Nor the way he's looking at me. "No questions?"

"Not yet," he says, rubbing absently below his lip. "Can I do the shopping once I get my feet under me?"

"Of course."

"Who cooks on the weekends?"

"We do," I answer. "You're welcome to join us for meals."

He nods, his chair rocking softly, squeaking against the wooden deck. "I think I'm going to like it here."

With my heart beating a little too fast for reasons I'd rather not identify, I stand.

"Jack," Ash says, causing me to come to a halt. "Where do you live? If everyone else is here, where are you?"

"Just down that way," I say, pointing without meeting his eye. "At the end of that unmarked lane."

"You're still on the property?" he asks.

"I am."

"But alone," he adds.

A pause. "Mm."

He hums softly. "That tracks. Night, then, Jackson Darling."

I pull in a breath. Expel it. My chest barely moves an inch. "Night."

I walk away without looking back at Ashley Alcott, trying to convince myself it has nothing whatsoever to do with what I might see on his face.

I almost believe it.