Page 105 of Chasing Shelter

“Someone save us,” Arden said, turning to pat Linc’s chest. “Come on, Cowboy. Take me to lunch. I’m hungry.”

“But we should stay and?—”

“Cowboy,” Arden warned. “Your sister needs a little time toprocess. And I need a cheeseburger and to dunk some fries in a milkshake.”

Linc’s expression changed then, going soft as if a memory were grabbing hold. He ducked his head to brush Arden’s lips with his, his hand going to her belly. “Gotta make sure my babies are taken care of.”

She smiled up at him and then jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Feed me, Cowboy.”

“Vicious to the bone,” Linc muttered, not letting her down. He glanced my way. “Call if you need anything.”

It was a command, not a question, but I still nodded. “I’m good, ConCon.”

“Call anyway,” he ordered.

I gave him a salute as he carried Arden out of the house. Anson just stood there, grinning, then gestured to the two of us. “This is good. I like it.”

Trace stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m telling Rho to put you on a tighter leash.”

“Never going to mind that,” Anson called as he headed for the front door.

Trace turned, his hands moving to my shoulders. “You okay?”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question. So much was flying around, but I was still standing. “I’m not, but I am. Does that make any sense?”

He brushed a strand of hair back from my face, his fingers lingering. “Completely. Strong as hell.”

It meant something that Trace saw me that way. And it meant even more that I could feel that strength building within me.

“You want lunch? Hang with Bumper? Something else? I’ve got three hours before Keely gets dropped off.”

I mulled over the options. Trace had already force-fed me a massive breakfast after dropping Keely at school. And as much as I loved Bumper, there was something else I wanted more. “Can we plant my butterfly pots and bulbs?”

My supposedly happy afternoon had been ripped away yesterday, and I wanted to reclaim some of that.

Trace’s expression softened. “Let’s plant a garden.”

“I thinkwe should map out where the bulbs go,” Trace began, studying the front garden beds like he was about to go to war. “We could measure them so they’re about eighteen inches apart and?—”

Laughter bubbled out of me; I couldn’t help it. If I’d thought Trace was orderly in his home, it had nothing on how he attacked my quest for a butterfly garden—the methodical way he’d potted each plant, following the exact instructions Duncan had sent me home with. He’d actually counted the handfuls of gravel he’d put at the bottom of each one.

Trace turned to me, frowning. “What?”

I slowly made my way to him, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders since I’d stripped down to a workout tank. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Chief. It’s a garden, not a military march. It doesn’t have to be even or perfectly dispersed or anything else. We can plant them where the spirit moves us.”

He stared down at me for a moment. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Maybe a little.” But the truth was, he’d helped me find the magic I’d lost yesterday. And the fact that the sun was blazing, giving us what felt like a final dose of warmth before fully submerging us into fall, only made it better.

Trace’s lips twitched, making his scruff dance with the movement. “Just wait until you have patchy flower beds.”

“The horror,” I mocked.

That gorgeous mouth pulled into a grin. “I like you, Ellie Pierce.”

For the first time in months, I didn’t mind the sound of my last name, because it was coming from his lips. “I likeyou, Trace Colson.”

“I think I’ll even like your patchy flower beds,” he whispered, brushing his lips across mine.

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