Page 27 of Rafe

“Do you see what I put up with?” Nate said with an amused shake of his head, his voice tinged with both mischief and admiration.

Rafe laughed. “Obviously, you love it,” he replied, his tone warm yet teasing.

Nate let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I do.” Leaning over, he pressed a gentle kiss on Markie’s temple, a tender gesture that almost made Maggie sigh contentedly. She adored witnessing a man unafraid to display genuine affection.

Her eyes flitted between Rafe, who was now staring at her with a curious intensity, and Nate, whose smile radiated fondness.

“I want to thank you,” she said softly.

“Me? Why?” Nate inquired, genuine surprise mingling with his amusement.

“For talking some sense into this stubborn hardhead and making him open up to me.”

“Hardhead? Darlin’, I’ve got nothing on you,” Rafe replied smoothly, lifting his beer and taking a long, deliberate swig as if punctuating his words with satisfaction.

Maggie let out a laugh. “You just keep telling yourself that, Rafe Marshall.”

Rafe turned his gaze toward Nate with a playful scowl. “Thanks a lot.”

Nate laughed. “You’re welcome.”

“Randi? I know I asked you before, but how are you doing?” Rafe asked, his tone shifting to genuine concern directed at a quieter corner of the conversation.

“I’m all healed now, Rafe. Thanks for asking. Again,” Randi responded, her smile revealing both gratitude and relief.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Maggie admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of worry and exasperation.

“You? How do you think I felt?” Jack interjected, his tone protective and edged with anxiety.

“I’m fine now, and Phillips is exactly where he belongs.” Randi offered a gentle smile as she spoke of her recovery.

“What happened?” Markie asked her eyes wide with concern.

Randi took a deep breath, recounting the grim details of how her stepbrother had plunged a knife into her, a violent act executed by a man she never knew. Since her mother had entrusted her with everything upon her death, Phillips had believed he was entitled to what wasn’t his.

“Oh, my God! I’m so happy you survived,” Markie exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief at the cruelty of fate.

“Me too,” Jack murmured softly as he picked up Randi’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss onto her palm.

“What’s with some men?” Maggie sighed, her voice heavy with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

“You don’t have to worry, Maggie. Your ex is behind bars,” Randi reassured, her tone firm yet caring.

“Yes, but if he ever gets out, he’s bound to come for me,” Maggie whispered, the underlying tremor in her voice betraying her lingering fear.

Curious, Jack asked, “Why is he in prison?”

Maggie began explaining the bizarre turn of events—Frederick had stolen his own father’s horses, a daring yet reckless act, and she had aided the Montana Department of Livestock in tracking him down. His capture had led to his incarceration. Though she initially hesitated to mention the beating, Randi’s knowing touch on her hand suffused the moment with unspoken understanding.

“He won’t get out anytime soon. Not for a long time,” Randi assured her softly.

“I hope not,” Maggie confessed with a shudder.

Rafe moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He’d have to go through me,” he declared, his voice low and protective.

In a moment of surprised disbelief, Jack blurted, “Wait. He stole his own father’s horses?”

“Yes, that’s exactly the kind of man he is,” Rafe said with a hint of disdain.

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