Page 68 of Wrangled Love

“Someone’s at the door,” she whispers.

I check my phone and see a string of missed texts from Heath and Walker saying they’re on their way to pick me up to bale hay. The last one was sent twenty minutes ago.

Shit.

Judging by the noise, I’m guessing they’ve been waiting outside a while and have run out of patience.

“I think your brothers are here,” I tell Briar.

She jolts up in bed. “What? Now?”

“Yeah.”

I jump out of bed and pull on the Wranglers I wore last night, not bothering to look for my shirt. Briar’s right behind me, throwing on a pair of sleep shorts and a flannel from a stool in the corner. She grabs a hair tie from the dresser, twisting her hair into a messy bun on the way out of the bedroom. We’re halfway down the stairs when the front door swings open. Heath and Walker stroll inside, catching us stumbling into view, half-dressed and breathless.

Walker lets out a low whistle. “Looks like we missed one hell of a sleepover.”

Heath smirks. “But we got here just in time for the morning-after special.”

Briar’s cheeks flush. “Did you guys ever think about waiting for someone to open the door before coming in?”

Walker shrugs. “It’s not our fault it was unlocked. It’s a good thing Ma is bringing Caleb over in a few minutes or you might’ve had to explain why his daddy and his nanny were conducting ahands-onteam-building exercise.”

As Briar and I reach the entryway, I shoot him a glare. “Not funny.”

He chuckles. “I beg to differ. It’s some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.”

Whatever this is between Briar and me is fragile enoughwithout Caleb finding out and getting confused. He’s already been through so much change, and the last thing I want is to add anything else that might cause him more stress. Not when he’s made so much progress over the past month and a half.

Does that mean I’m done with Briar? Not by a long shot. But we’ll have to be more careful, especially in the mornings, to avoid another awkward situation like this. There’s no chance her brothers will ever let me live this down.

“Have you guys had breakfast?” Briar asks Heath and Walker, changing the subject.

“Nope. Ma was busy with the chicks, so we were hoping you were making those famous pancakes of yours like you usually do on Saturdays,” Walker says with a grin.

Briar rolls her eyes. “Typical. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, or you’d be the one making pancakes.”

“Yeah, well, we all know why you’re so chipper this morning,” Heath interjects with amusement. “By the way, love your outfit, sis.”

Briar glances down at her mismatched clothes, her fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt as if that’ll make her brothers disappear.

“Jensen’s not exactly setting fashion trends either,” Walker adds. “Pretty sure he’s trying to flaunt his abs.”

“Says the guy who looks like a lumberjack that got dressed in the dark,” I say, nodding toward his half-tucked flannel.

He must have hit the snooze button three times before Heath dragged him out the door. Morning people are ruthless.

“As entertaining as this banter is, I’m going to make breakfast.” Briar leans close, whispering, “I worked up quite the appetite last night.” She shoots me a playful wink before slipping into the kitchen.

I plan to follow, but Heath stops me with a firm hand on my shoulder.

“What happened to not being interested in meeting a nice country gal this summer?” he asks with a raised brow.

I scratch the back of my neck, carefully considering my response. The last thing I want is to upset him and start a fight in Briar’s entryway. It would be a surefire way to ruin the end of an incredible night, and I’m not willing to risk it being our only one. Briar’s quickly become an important part of my life, and I don’t want to go back to the way things were.

“It wasn’t planned,” I say defensively.

Heath tilts his head, rubbing his chin. “What happened? She trip and fall into your arms? Besides, don’t you think you’re a little old for her? After all, you wear reading glasses, and isn’t that a gray hair in your stubble?” His expression shifts to smug satisfaction.

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