Page 44 of Daddy's Heart

He kisses the top of my head. "Speaking of which, I got a text from Jack earlier. The family wants to know if you're coming to Sunday brunch tomorrow."

My stomach flips. "Meeting your family? That's... big."

"They're going to love you. Both of you." He tips my chin up so I have to meet his eyes. "But if you're not ready—"

"I'm ready." And I am. Terrified, but ready. "What should I expect?"

"Chaos. Lots of food. My brothers being idiots. Questions about when we're getting married."

"My intentions?"

"Whether you're planning to stick around long enough to give them nieces and nephews."

Heat floods my cheeks. "Colt!"

"What? I already told them yes."

"You what?"

"Kidding." But the wicked grin on his face tells me he's not entirely kidding. "Mostly."

I swat at his chest, but I'm laughing. "You're terrible."

"You love me anyway."

"I do." I lean up and kiss him softly. "I really, really do."

Thirteen

Emery

"You ready for this?" Colt asks as we pull into Beau's driveway.

I glance over at him, then back at Legend, who's been in full-blown chatter mode since we left the house, listing every question he plans to ask Colt’s brothers like he’s prepping for a job interview.

I take a breath and exhale slowly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Beau’s house is exactly what I’d expect from a no-nonsense mechanic. Solid, practical, with a garage big enough to house a tank and probably the tools to build one. The place smells like bacon and coffee and something slightly greasy in a comforting, man-who-knows-his-way-around-an-engine sort of way.

Colt pushes open the front door without knocking. “We’re here!” he calls out like we’re stepping into a sitcom.

“About damn time!” comes a voice from the kitchen, gruff and already judging us for being three minutes late.

The house is buzzing. Voices overlapping, someone laughing, something sizzling on the stove. It smells like a Sunday morning should.

We step into the kitchen, and my eyes immediately dart to the brothers. They’re clearly cut from the same Boone cloth but styled in completely different patterns.

Jack, the oldest, is seated at the table with a gorgeous auburn-haired woman curled against his side like she’s always belonged there. He’s got that military stillness, not stiff, justdeliberate, and when he smiles at us, it softens everything sharp about him.

“You must be Emery,” he says, rising to shake my hand. “Jack. This is Delaney.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Delaney adds warmly. “We’ve heard alotabout you.”

I shoot Colt a sideways look. “Hopefully the flattering stuff.”

Delaney grins. “Mostly. He did call you ‘stubborn as hell,’ but it was said affectionately.”

That checks out.

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