Page 52 of Sweet Like Whiskey

Huffing a laugh, I turn around. “Morning, Lawson.”

The eldest Darling brother is sitting in a chair, his own mug of coffee in hand. I take a seat next to him, looking out over the dairy girls, as Jackson calls them. They’re gathered in small groups, and I can’t help but wonder if they form friendships like we do, or if it’s simply prey instinct keeping them drawn together.

Lawson clears his throat softly, as if he’s warming up his speaking muscles. “You settling in all right?”

“Yeah, I am,” I tell him. “Honestly, it’s been a really easy transition. If anything, that’s the odd part.”

He nods. “You think you’re sticking around then?”

Ah. So this is about a certain grumpy cowboy we both know.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure Lawson, not begrudging him looking out for his brother. Nor surprised he caught on to what’s happening between me and Jackson.

He nods again, turning his gaze out over the ranchland as he sips his coffee. “Otto did a number on him,” he says quietly.

I let out a breath. “I don’t think that’s something I should hear from you, Lawson. No offense. It’s just…he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

He looks at me again, gaze serious, his brown eyes—so like Marigold’s—setting him apart from his brothers. “People leave,” he says simply. “Sometimes, they leave.”

My chest squeezes tight. I don’t think he’s talking about Otto or even me. “Your wife?” I ask as gently as possible.

His eyes widen, surprise flashing before guilt sets in. So…not his wife, then.

Before I can find out who walked out of Lawson’s past, Hank comes into view. He has a gallon of pink paint in one hand, the color streaked down the sides of the tin, and his beekeeper’s hat is on his head.

I huff a laugh as he waves our way. “You know what that’s about?”

Lawson shakes his head. “Not a clue. One of his hobbies, I’m guessing.”

Hank passes, and Lawson stands. He turns to me with a sigh.

“Ashley, maybe it’s not my place to say anything, but I love my family. Colton would tell Jackson to simply let loose and have fun for once. He thinks it’s that easy. But what he doesn’t understand about our brother is that his heart has always led first. Jackson doesn’t know any other way. So just…be sure, all right? It won’t be casual for him.”

I nod, my pulse beating swiftly. Maybe Lawson’s words should scare me, but if anything, they have the opposite effect. The man himself nods back before walking around the corner out of sight.

I think I just got the big brother shakedown. I feel…strangely honored.

When my coffee is gone and the sky has turned an airy blue, I return my mug to the kitchen and grab the yoga mat I bought in town. My exercise routine isn’t strenuous by any means, and usually, I do it in my room. But there are fewer employees about this time on a Sunday, so I head to the back deck again and enjoy the scenery as I run through the paces, loosening the muscles between my shoulder blades, those in my neck and down my spine, a few out through my arms, and, finally, my hamstrings. I’m near the end of my stretches when I feel a presence off to my right.

I nearly laugh. “Morning, Jack.”

Jackson’s footsteps thunk up the wooden stairs, an unreadable expression on his face as he approaches. He looks good. Handsome. But he always does.

“Are we back to being quiet?” I ask.

“No,” he answers, voice a little rough around the edges. “Just…”

“Enjoying the view?” I tease.

He grunts what might be a begrudging affirmative. I sit upright, crossing my legs in front of me as Jackson takes a seat in a rocker, the furniture shifting slightly with his weight. He props his elbows on his knees and looks off in the direction of the cattle.

“Did you want to talk about last night?” I ask, wondering if that’s why he’s here.

He looks at me almost sharply. “We did, didn’t we?”

This time, I do laugh. “I’m not sure the words that came out of either of our mouths could be classified astalking.”

Jackson’s cheeks pinken slightly at that, a damn endearing sight.

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