Page 39 of Their Reluctant Catch

The memory is fragmented, splintering as I try to piece it together. “I remember the smell of the trees, the crunch of ice beneath my boots. The quiet.”

The quiet.

“Then I heard a shot, and the past and the present kind of blended together for me.” I run a hand over my face. “After that, I— I don’t know. Most is a blur until now.”

Todd frowns. “Shooting in the woods? Strange. Ain’t no hunting season, is it?”

Colton hums. “I think snowshoe hare is open until the end of March.”

I blink at them, completely baffled at the completely matter-of-fact tone, the casual way they’re discussing small game while I’m still half-shaking.

And then I laugh.

It starts as a breath, then builds until I’m laughing so hard it hurts. The kind of laugh that comes with tears. The kind you can’t stop once it starts.

Todd shifts beside me. “Shea?”

I wave a hand, still laughing. “Sorry. It’s just… snowshoe hare? Really?”

He looks at me like I’ve lost it. Maybe I have.

Then Todd chuckles and then and then he starts laughing too. Quiet at first, then louder, until we’re both wheezing with it.

We end up leaning against each other, our bodies shaking, barely upright. Not because anything’s funny. Not really. But because it’s better than crying.

Colton doesn't join in, but I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch. It’s almost a smile.

And somehow, that’s enough to make it all feel just a little less terrifying.

Chapter16

Savannah

After a quick shower in their humongous shower stall—for the second time this week—I towel off and reach for the clean clothes Todd left me. The pants are too long and loose around my waist, but I cinch the drawstring tightly and roll up the legs so I don’t trip. The fresh t-shirt and hoodie are also oversized, but the fabric’s softness is a comfort.

The clothes aren’t as wide as the shirt I had on last night. I bring the hoodie to my nose. It’s Todd’s. He smells like the woods after rain—evergreen needles crushed underfoot, a hint of sea salt, and something warmer underneath, like sunbaked cedar or worn leather. There’s a faint trace of sweat, too, not sharp or sour, just... real. Alive. The kind of scent that sinks into your skin and stays there. Colton smells different. His scent is darker and heavier somehow, like leather and a touch of smoke. It’s rougher, more intense. I didn’t realize I could tell them apart by scent alone. Now I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.

Both men are muscled and gorgeous, but where Todd is more sleekly built like an athlete, Colton has wider shoulders and more bulk. He also has some amazing tattoos I couldn’t study but I’m tempted to trace with my tongue.

Whoa, doggie. Down, girl. You’re acting like a bitch in heat.

The rich scent of coffee beans and hot cheese drifts up from downstairs, making my stomach tighten with hunger. I hurry down the steps and into the kitchen, where Todd greets me with a smirk and a steaming mug.

I practically inhale the coffee, and he chuckles, topping off my mug as soon as I lower it.

“Sit,” he says.

Colton slides a plate in front of me—golden, crispy grilled cheese sandwiches. My stomach growls in approval.

Damn. A girl could get used to this.

They sit on either side of me. They do this often—flanking me, bracketing me between them like they’re staking some silent claim.

I like it.

Todd clears his throat, starts to speak, stops again.

That’s… different. Todd isn’t the kind of man who hesitates. He’s the kind of guy who says what he means without dancing around it.

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