Page 66 of Bunker Down, Baby

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and reach for my jeans. “So what’s next? You wrangling another man, or feeding the ones you already caught?”

“Little of column A, little of column B,” she says sweetly. “Brock’s still feral. Holden’s thinking about being reasonable. Evan and Dean are…well, Evan’s trying not to admit he likes me, and Dean’s trying to get us all to play strip poker after dinner.”

I laugh. “And me?”

She leans in, presses a kiss to my cheek. “You’re the one I count on.”

Well damn. That’ll put a man to work.

Chapter Eighteen

Maple

We walk the property like we’re doing some kind of post-apocalypse team-building retreat, and I swear, watching them together might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen that didn’t involve rope or a kitchen counter.

Dean, Evan, and Wade, all walking just ahead of me, boots crunching over gravel, shirts slightly damp from the heat, sleeves rolled, forearms on full display. Wade’s leading the way, pointing out the slope of the land, where he wants to rotate grazing, how the sun hits just right on the far side of the fence.

Dean nods along, squinting like he’s sizing up the land as if it’s just another engine. “The tractor’s runnin’ sweet now. I tweaked the belt tension. Thing was screaming at me when I drove it back.”

Wade gives him a slow, easy smile. “Thought she felt off.”

“Oh, she’s hummin’ now,” Dean says, and then, of course, winks at me over his shoulder. “Just how you like it, babe.”

“Please don’t refer to the tractor like that,” Evan mutters.

Dean throws an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Doc. You’re still my number one. But you can’t tune an engine that purrs like she does and not talk a little dirty about it.”

Evan shrugs him off with a small, secret smile. “You fix my air yet, or just sweet-talkin’ the farm equipment now?”

They laugh. All three of them.

And my ovaries just… do something dangerous.

God, I love them. Evan being all dry and deadpan. Dean, a literal chaos gremlin with a wrench and a sex drive. And Wade? Just soaking it all in with that soft cowboy grin, easy like he’s been here forever.

We get to the edge of the animal pen and Wade leans against the post, hands on his hips, surveying his new little kingdom. The goats bleat like they’re excited to see him. The cow ambles closer and just stands there beside him like they’re old friends.

“I think she missed you,” I say.

Wade rubs her nose, voice all warm and low. “She likes routine. Knows I’m the one that scratches the sweet spot behind her ear.”

I will never know peace again.

Dean shudders and steps back. “Just keep me out of the chicken coop. I’m not going back in there. I’ve seen things.”

Evan chuckles, rubbing his wrist. “They still pecking, or do you think they’ve cooled off since the incident?”

“Oh, they remember,” Dean says grimly. “I swear the red one’s got a vendetta.”

“That one is mean,” I chime in. “She bit me through my leggings. And I was bringing snacks.”

Dean points at me. “That’s the kind of loyalty you’ve bred around here.”

I shrug. “What can I say? I’ve got a gift.”

Wade turns, looking between all of us with that deep crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the kind of smile that says he gets it. That he sees what we’re building here and doesn’t think it’s crazy.

Or maybe he does, and just likes us anyway.

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