***

Callan’s entire family was here—aside from Beckham. Oakley, Brandy, and Bailey were here as well, but I guessed they were considered a part of the Bronsons with how close everyone was. I longed for a family like that for Avery to grow up around. I always felt guilty for her not having cousins or aunts and uncles to shower her with love. She didn’t even have her father to do that either. 

So I made up for it. I made sure she always felt loved and never felt that hole like I did growing up.

The guys' plates were almost cleared as they devoured the food in front of them. Lettie and Oakley had been lost in conversation, barely touching their dinner, as Avery told Charlotte all about her lessons. 

My attention was tuned in to the two of them, the rest of the table fading away. I watched with glassy eyes as Charlotte treated Avery like one of her own. I wished so badly in this moment that my grandmother was here to meet her.

“Is it good?” Callan’s voice interrupted my trance.

I dropped my fork to the plate, the metal clattering on the porcelain. “What?”

Eyes glanced our way, but everyone continued their side conversations. I was seated next to Callan with Avery across from me. She’d wanted to sit in between Charlotte and Lettie, and I wasn’t going to complain. Travis, Callan’s father, was seated on the other side of Charlotte, and the others were at the opposite end of the table.

“The food. Do you like it?” he clarified.

I looked down at my plate, realizing I’d barely touched any of it as well. It was delicious, from what little I’d tasted, but my stomach was in knots over being here at a table full of people. I hadn’t had a dinner like this in…well, ever. Not just the meal, but the people.

“It’s amazing. The asparagus is lovely,” I told him.

His brow furrowed as he set his own fork down. “Is something wrong?”

Nothing was wrong. Everything was just right. And that scared me. What if Avery wanted to do this more often? This wasn’t our family to impose on. It was most likely just a one-time thing, and I didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“My knee just kind of hurts,” I lied. It was sore, but when I took my weight off of it, it didn’t bother me as much. The bruise was an ugly shade of purple, covering my entire knee cap, but I didn’t think anything was damaged. 

“Here, I’ll be right back,” he said as he set his napkin on the table and got up.

No one at the table noticed, and when he returned, he held his palm out to me, two small pills sitting in the center as he refilled my water glass with the pitcher.

I gently grabbed them from his hand, my fingers brushing his rough calluses. “Thank you.”

He sat as I swallowed each pill separately, followed by some water. 

“Do you need me to drive you home later?” he asked.

I choked on the liquid, coughing to clear my throat. “No,” I croaked.

His lips pursed as his cheeks stained a light shade of pink. He was definitely blushing. I took another sip of water to clear my throat, but it did little to ease the nerves coursing through me right now.

“And I told you, you’re not fucking touching that horse,” Reed bit out at the end of the table, pulling my attention away from Callan.

“Reed, language. There’s small ears listening,” Charlotte lectured.

Brandy scoffed. “You can’t just tell me what to do.”

Reed muttered something under his breath, shooting daggers at Brandy. “How many times do you want to go over this?”

Brandy lifted her glass of wine, a catty grin pulling at her lips as she said, “As many times as I want, because I’m breaking that horse.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Lettie piped in softly as Brandy sipped her wine.

“No shit, Lettie,” Reed grumbled. “If she gets hurt, it’s on you.”

Bailey sat forward. “Hey, now. Don’t come at my girl.”

Beside me, Callan let out a sigh.

Lettie rolled her eyes as if Reed wasn’t her brother and she could handle him. “He’s always got a stick up his ass, Bailey. This is nothing new with him.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Brandy mumbled.

“What was that, Brandy Rose?” Reed asked calmly. It was almost more scary when he spoke in that tone. I’d seen a lot of sides to Reed when he occasionally stopped by Bell Buckle Brews, but never this.

“I don’t know. Maybe if you pulled that stick out, you could hear me,” she said sweetly. 

Okay, the two of them speaking that way was much more scary.

Charlotte looked like she was about to pipe in again about the language when Avery blurted, “Does anyone know anything about cats?”

My lips parted slightly. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this—though I was thankful for the attention shift—but I definitely didn’t want her crying at this table over Pudding.

“I know Callan hates them,” Lennon supplied with a smirk.

“You do?” I asked Callan.

His eyes narrowed on Lennon slightly before answering me. “I don’t hate them.”

Lennon let out a small chuckle. “The last barn cat we had, you wouldn’t go anywhere near whatever barn it decided to stay in.”

“That thing was mean, and you know it,” Callan defended.

“It hissed at you one time,” Lettie pointed out.

“Never thought a man could be scared of a ten-pound animal when he works with beasts a hundred times their size,” Travis muttered, his gray mustache wiggling as he spoke.

Callan grimaced. “Listen, when you have giant fangs eye-level with you because you woke up a sleeping cat behind a bale of hay, you’d be scared, too.”

“Oh, please.” Lennon scoffed. “It was one time.”

“Anyway,” Avery interrupted, the sass clear in her tone, “my cat is missing.”

Oh, fuck. Please help me.

“Avery—” I started.

“Missing?” Callan asked at the same time.