Page 44 of Daddy's Girl

His laugh is soft against my hair. "Then they can get the fuck off my mountain."

"Our mountain," I correct, holding up my hand where the wooden ring catches the late afternoon light.

His arms tighten around me, pulling me impossibly closer.

"Our mountain," he agrees. "Though you should know—" his voice drops, rough with emotion and desire both, "—I'd follow you anywhere. Cabin, city, fucking moon. Doesn't matter."

“The city? Really?" I ask, even though I already know.

His lips find my temple, pressing a kiss there that feels like a brand.

"Yes, really. Because home isn't this mountain, baby girl." His hand spreads over my stomach, large enough to span it completely. "It's you."

And for a girl who spent her whole life belonging nowhere, to no one, that's better than any fairy tale ending I could have imagined.

I've found my mountain. And I'm never coming down.

Twelve

Delaney

I never thought I'd be nervous about a dinner, but here I am, straightening Jack's collar for the third time as he drives us toward his brother's house.

"Stop fidgeting," he says, catching my hand and bringing it to his mouth, teeth grazing my knuckles. "They're assholes, but they're going to love you."

"I'm not dressed right." My free hand tugs at the hem of the sundress he picked out. "Too much leg. Too casual for a memorial."

"Baby girl." He squeezes my thigh hard enough to make me gasp. "You're perfect. And after we're done being respectful, I'm going to fuck you in the truck on the way home, so I need easy access."

Just like that, he transforms my nerves into heat. The man is gifted.

Colt's house is smaller than Jack's cabin, but just as isolated—a ranch-style home tucked against the same mountain, with three trucks already parked out front. Jack's fingers touch the small of my back as we approach, possessive and reassuring all at once.

The door opens before we knock. Beau's shit-eating grin is the first thing I see.

"Well, fuck me sideways, he actually showed." Beau looks past Jack to me, his grin widening. "And he brought his ball and chain."

"Watch it," Jack warns, but there's no real heat in it.

Inside, I meet the rest of his family. Colt—silent, scarred, watchful—nods from the kitchen where he's arranging food. The ex-firefighter turned sheriff has burn scars tracing up one side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. His badge catches the light as he moves, precise and efficient, like a man who's learned to carefully ration his energy. He barely speaks, but his eyes miss nothing.

Cade, the wilderness expert, is the last to arrive—bursting in ten minutes late with pine needles in his hair and a flask he doesn't bother hiding. "Traffic," he deadpans, though we all know there's not another house for miles. He gives me a handshake that transitions into a hug Jack clearly doesn't appreciate, given the growl that vibrates through the room.

"Easy, brother," Cade laughs, stepping back. "Just welcoming her to the family." His eyes crinkle at the corners like he's perpetually amused by life. "Someone has to be friendly around here."

The meal is simple. Venison, potatoes, roasted chicken and broccoli, because Jack insisted I have a vegetable, but the conversation is anything but. Stories about their mother flow as freely as the wild river, each brother adding pieces to the mosaic of a woman I wish I'd known. How she'd broken Beau's arm when he was twelve because he was picking on Cade and she'd tackled him during a backyard football game. How she'd taught Colt to make biscuits from scratch when he was eight because "a man needs to feed himself, not wait for a woman to do it." How she'd once won a marksmanship competition against their father using his own service weapon.

Through it all, Jack keeps one hand on me—my knee, my shoulder, the back of my neck. Not possessive now, just... connected. The ring he carved me catches the light with every movement, drawing Colt's eye.

"That's good work," he says, the first words he's spoken directly to me. "Jack always had the touch with details."

"He made me a nursing chair too," I say without thinking, then freeze.

The table goes silent. Four pairs of identical blue eyes lock on me.

"A what now?" Beau drawls, eyes dancing as he leans forward.

Jack's hand tightens on my thigh under the table. "You shut the fuck up. All of you."

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