Page 23 of Knotting the Cowboys

Luna's eyes drift closed as we climb the porch steps, but not before she gives me one last look—knowing and impossibly ancient for a baby. Like she's waiting for me to remember something important.

The feeling follows me into the house, where the smell of lemon polish mixes with a scent that only makes my heart clench with fear and my lungs tighten as if every breath is sacred.

Smoke.

Not current, but memory.

The phantom of fire that my body remembers even if my mind won't.

The kitchen swallows us in warmth and golden light, all gleaming surfaces and copper pots that catch the late afternoon sun streaming through gauze curtains.

It's a dream kitchen, all modern appliances hidden behind cabinet faces that match the house's vintage character. Austin moves through it like he was born here, already pulling ingredients from the massive refrigerator while Luna babbles from his hip.

"Hope you like salmon," he says, setting packages on the butcher block island. "Fresh caught from River's last fishing trip. Man's got magic hands when it comes to finding fish."

"Among other things," Mavi mutters, earning himself an elbow from River as they move in practiced synchronization. Cole retrieves plates from a high shelf without being asked, River fills a pot with water, Mavi checks locks on windows I hadn'teven noticed needed checking. They dance around each other without collision, a choreography learned through repetition and intimacy.

I hover near the doorway, unsure where to fit in this domestic ballet.

"Can I help?"

"Just sit," Cole says, pulling out a chair at the large farmhouse table. "I bet you've had a long day."

Luna goes into her high chair with minimal fuss, though her eyes track me constantly. Though they mentioned she’d need a nap, I guess feeding her first would be smart.

Austin ties a bib around her neck with one hand while seasoning fish with the other, humming something low and soothing.

Multitasking rugged men who are raising a baby together on a ranch…wild.

River starts chopping vegetables with knife skills that speak of practice, while Cole sets the table around me like I'm a fixed point they're all navigating.

"She's still staring," Mavi observes, nodding at Luna. He's taken up position by the back door, where he can see both exits and all windows. "Kid's got a fixation."

"She knows quality when she sees it," Austin says lightly, but there's something underneath the joke. "Don't you, moon girl?"

Luna responds by reaching toward me with both hands, her heterochromatic eyes bright with determination.

When I don't immediately respond, she ups the ante—lower lip trembling, small whimpers building toward full distress.

"Here." River slides a cutting board of carrot sticks toward me. "Maybe she's hungry."

But when I offer Luna a carrot, she pushes it away, reaching for me more insistently.

Her whimpers escalate, and all four men tense in unison.

"She's going to work herself up," Austin says, hands full of fish and herbs. "Once she starts the full meltdown?—"

"I'll take her again." The words come out before I think them through. "Just for a minute."

The kitchen goes still.

Four sets of eyes watch as I unbuckle Luna from her chair and lift her into my arms. She settles immediately, pressing her face into my neck with a contented sigh that goes straight through me.

And then?—

Smoke.

Not the phantom whisper from earlier but thick, choking, real.

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