Crimson River (The Edens)

The Edens were loud.

Not just in volume—though Lyla’s family laughed like there was a decibel quota to meet over dinner. They were loud in other ways. Their smiles. Their hugs. Their love.

It had been a long time since I’d been to a Sutter family dinner. Maybe my memory was failing me, but the only time I recalled my family being loud was the very last dinner. The one where everything had fallen apart. Not a good loud.

The Edens were a good loud.

Anne and Harrison sat on opposite ends of the dining room table and, between them, their children and grandchildren.

The table itself, a smooth, black walnut piece with matching chairs, was new. It lacked the dents and dings of furniture that had seen more than a handful of family functions. It was slightly too large for the space, but that was likely because it had been bought with this crush of people in mind.

A large family needed a large table. Even if it was crowded, Anne and Harrison probably wanted each person here to have a seat. They’d even made space for the little ones and their high chairs.

No surprise, Lyla’s parents were good people. Anne had welcomed me with a hug. Harrison with a firm handshake. And then Lyla’s siblings had descended, nosy but not intrusive.

They’d asked questions but hadn’t pried into my personal life. Instead, they’d learned tonight that I preferred whiskey over beer. That I liked my steaks medium rare. And that my favorite color was blue.

Lyla’s blue.

Though I hadn’t been that specific when Eloise had asked a few moments ago.

“Blue would have been a good color choice,” Knox said.

“I didn’t want blue.” Anne jutted up her chin. “I wanted yellow.”

“But it’s not yellow, Mom.”

“Of course it’s yellow.” Anne had recently painted the powder room down the hall. Tonight was the first anyone but Harrison had seen it. “The color is called mustard. Mustard is yellow.”

“It looks like baby poop,” Griffin said.

“Griff,” Winn scolded.

“What? It does.”

“It’s not the color of baby poop.” Anne harrumphed, then adjusted Griff and Winn’s daughter, Emma, on her lap. “Change your daughter’s diaper once in a while and you’ll know the difference.”

Griffin just laughed and shook his head, making a face at his two-year-old son, Hudson, who was making a hell of a mess in his booster seat with some Play-Doh.

Some dads didn’t change diapers, but I suspected that none of the men here shied away from a loaded Pampers.

“It’s sort of baby poop, Mom,” Talia said, her hand splayed on her pregnant belly.

She and her husband, Foster, were having a boy. Current name options were Kaiden or Jude. I’d voted for Jude.

“Are all of my children color-blind?” Anne asked the room. “It’s yellow.”

Harrison hid his laughter in the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

“It’s not that bad.” Jasper’s arm was draped around the back of Eloise’s chair, his hand on her shoulder. He was rarely far from her side, and if she was close, he touched her in some small way.

I’d seen that sort of constant touch before. Jasper’s obsession with Eloise had taken me off guard at first. Maybe just from my own personal history, but the hairs on the back of my neck had stood on end as I’d watched them from the corner of my eye almost constantly.

But after hours of seeing them together, I realized it was different than Andrea and Brandon.

Jasper didn’t touch Eloise to possess her, to control her. He touched her like she was his tether to the earth. Like without her, he’d drift away on a breeze. He loved her.

There was a lot of love at this table.

Lucky table.

“Thank you, Jasper.” Anne gave him a proud smile.

“Kiss ass,” Knox teased. “It’s hideous.”

“It’s not hideous.” Memphis, Knox’s wife, gave Anne a sweet smile. “I like it too.”

Knox and Memphis each had a kid in their arms. Memphis was feeding their baby boy, Harrison Eden, a bottle. Knox stroked their oldest son’s back.

Drake had fallen asleep about an hour ago, even with all this noise. We’d finished dessert. The dirty plates were still scattered across the table. He’d had his last bite of brownies and ice cream, then crawled into Knox’s arms. He’d rested his head on his dad’s shoulder, and five minutes later, he’d conked out.

“We’re taking a poll.” Anne aimed her gaze at Foster seated next to her. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” he said, sharing a quick look with Jasper.

I’d learned tonight that the two of them had worked together for years while Foster had been in the UFC. Jasper had been Foster’s trainer until he’d retired, and both had moved to Quincy about the same time.

They’d shared a few looks tonight, unspoken messages flying across this table.

Once upon a time, I’d had that sort of friendship. Brotherhood.

With Cormac.

Lyla put her hand on my thigh beneath the table, her delicate touch chasing away the past.

I covered her knuckles with my palm, drawing circles on her skin with my thumb.

“Lyla?” Anne arched her eyebrows at her daughter, waiting for her vote.

“I don’t think it’s the color of baby poop, Mom. More like split-pea soup.”

Anne’s jaw dropped. “It’s not green.”

“It’s got a green tint.”

I clamped my teeth together, fighting the laugh that Lyla’s brothers couldn’t hide.

“Vance?” Anne asked, her eyes pleading.

“Yellow,” I lied. “It’s definitely yellow.” It was split-pea, baby-poop green.

Her entire face lit up.

So did Lyla’s. She smiled, knowing I’d lied for her mother’s sake.

“Do we really need to vote?” Mateo asked. “I’ll just tell you how it’s going to go. Your kids hate the color. Your kids-in-law also hate the color, but they love you too much to tell you the truth.”

“So not only are you criticizing my taste, now you’re saying you don’t love me.” Anne picked up her cloth napkin and threw it at his head. “Get out. You’re no son of mine.”

Mateo caught the napkin and laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that was the same as his father’s and brothers’.

I needed two hands to count the similarities between the Eden men. And the same was true for Lyla and her mother and sisters.

As twins, Lyla and Talia had the same shape to their face, nose and mouth. Cormac’s twins had been almost impossible to tell apart for most people. It had taken me months to know which was Hadley or Elsie. But even though Lyla and Talia had the same features, I’d know Lyla anywhere.

Talia’s eyes were blue, but not Lyla’s blue.

And when it came to kindred spirits and personalities, Lyla was very much like Anne.

“How about I repaint the bathroom for you this weekend?” Lyla asked. “We could pick out a pretty gray or forest green.”

“No.” Anne sighed. “You’re busy. I’ll do it. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just make you all suffer with the baby-poop yellow.”

“Speaking of baby poop.” Memphis stood with the baby in her arm. “Be right back.”

She bent and kissed Knox’s forehead, then ducked out of the room.

“Okay, cowboy.” Griffin picked up a ball of Hudson’s Play-Doh and put it in its yellow container. “Time for us to go home and get in the tub, then head to bed.”

“No.” Hudson’s mouth turned down at the corners, then he crumpled, falling forward as he began to cry.

“Oh, my son.” Winn was out of her chair in a flash, picking up Hudson for a hug.

He wrapped his legs around her waist and his small arms around her shoulders, like she was his saving angel. She probably was. Though Winn would likely still make her son take a bath.

“Let’s go home.” She kissed Hudson’s cheek, then carried him with her as she moved to collect the diaper bag.

The rest of us stood, clearing plates and glasses to the kitchen.

Talia and Foster were the first to take off, followed closely by Jasper and Eloise. Then Knox and Memphis loaded up their boys and headed home. Mateo waved goodbye as he climbed into his truck, heading to the cabin where he lived in the mountains.

Griffin and Winn didn’t have a long drive to their house on the ranch, so they stuck around the longest to say goodbye.

“Good to see you, Vance,” Winn said as we stood beside the door.

“You too.” Before dinner, I’d had a lot of respect for Winslow Eden as a cop. After dinner, that respect had only grown, seeing her as a wife and mother, loyal and loving.

As far as I could tell, she was the only person who knew about my situation in Coeur d’Alene. The clusterfuck that was my job. The shooting. That she’d let that stay between us, well . . . I didn’t have much to offer her as thanks, but if she ever needed a favor, I’d move mountains to make it happen.

“Glad you could make it out.” Griffin shook my hand, then pulled Lyla into a hug, kissing the top of her hair. “Mom said there were a few things in the shop that need fixing. The paper towel holder in the bathroom and your office door isn’t closing quite right. Dad and I are going to come in tomorrow and take a look.”

“It’s nothing major,” Lyla said.

“Then it won’t take us long.” He let her go, then opened the door, ushering his family outside, leaving me and Lyla with her parents.

“Thank you for having me.” I took Harrison’s outstretched hand, then bent to kiss Anne’s cheek. “Dinner was delicious.”

“It was so wonderful meeting you.” Anne smiled to me, then her daughter. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.” Lyla hugged her parents. “Bye, Dad.”

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Harrison held the door open for us, standing in the threshold as we crossed his porch. Then with a wave, he disappeared inside with his wife.

The air smelled like snow. It was coming, sooner rather than later. But I drew in a long breath, catching the scent of hay and animals and earth. A man could live a damn good life smelling that combination every day. I envied the Edens who called this home.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cowboy,” I told Lyla.

Lyla laughed as we walked down the porch stairs. “You did?”

“Yeah. Ten-year-old me would be in heaven right now.”

Though thirty-four-year-old me was close to heaven at the moment too.

Stars coated the onyx sky. The moon cast a silver hue across the jagged mountains in the distance. And while it was a breathtaking night, its beauty paled in comparison to the woman at my side.

“Come on.” Lyla snagged my hand, interlacing our fingers, then tugged me away from where we’d parked my truck.

I wasn’t sure where she was leading me, but I fell in step beside her, keeping her hand in mine as we crossed the open gravel lot beside Anne and Harrison’s house.

Three large buildings sat opposite their home—a barn, a shop and the stables. Lyla had pointed them out when we’d arrived earlier. The yard lights illuminated each of their fronts. Beyond them, past the fences and corrals, it was pitch black.

But when Lyla and I had come out before dinner, we’d made it before dark. It had given me the chance to see her family’s ranch. It was a magnificent setting, with meadows and untamed evergreen forests and mountain ranges in every direction.

Paradise.

“Want to meet our newest horse?” she asked, leading me to the stables.

“Sure.”

She let go of my hand to open a sliding door and step inside.

I joined her, squinting as she flipped on the lights. Then when my eyes adjusted, I took in the huge space, breathing in the scents of horses and leather and straw. A wide lane took up the center of the building. On each side was a row of stables.

She walked to a stall, peering over a gate.

I took the spot beside her. Inside the stall, a black colt stood with a white star on his head. His mother came over, nudging Lyla’s arm.

“Isn’t he cute?” Lyla petted the horse’s smooth, round cheek, then moved away, heading deeper into the building. She strolled past empty stalls, her pace unhurried. “My horse, Mercury, and most of the others are out in the pasture. But if you want to live out your childhood dreams, we could come back another day. Go riding.”

God, that sounded fun. I’d ridden a few times over the years, though never often. When I went out into the mountains, it was usually on foot. And as much as I’d love to spend a day with Lyla here, exploring the Eden ranch, that wasn’t why I was in Montana.

And time was running out.

Soon the mountains would be covered in snow, making any attempt to search for Cormac more difficult than it already was. If he’d planned to spend the winter in these mountains, then he’d gathered enough supplies to stay in whatever hole he’d dug for himself. He’d limit movement, hiding away until spring.

If he was even here.

“Maybe,” I told Lyla.

She heard the no and gave me a sad smile as we reached the far end of the stables.

“Hey.” I snagged her hand, missing it in my own. With a tug, I hauled her close. “Thanks for bringing me here tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” Her free hand slid up my chest, her index finger skimming each of the buttons on the Henley beneath my flannel jacket.

“I like your family. I like how loud they are.”

Her face softened. “I like it too.”

“I have a big family.” The words tumbled free before I could swallow them down.

Lyla’s gaze shot to mine. Maybe she expected me to pull away, to change the subject. Normally, I would.

Not tonight.

“Do you ever feel lost in the crowd?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” she whispered. “Is that how it is with your family?”

“Not lost. Just outside.”

Her hand came to my beard, stroking along my jaw with her knuckles. “Does your family know you’re here?”

“My dad does. My mother and I haven’t spoken for . . . a while.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too.”

There was more to explain. A story to tell. And goddamn it, I wanted to lay it on her. I wanted to unburden my heart again.

She had no idea how much it had helped, sharing my history with Cormac. Unloading it for the first time in years. Maybe it would help make sense of my family’s bullshit too if I told her about it. The way Lyla listened, the way she absorbed my every word, made it so tempting.

But we’d had such a good night. Maybe if there wasn’t an expiration date, maybe if the snow wasn’t coming, I’d give in.

Instead, I closed my other hand over hers, taking it away from my face and twisting it behind her back, pinning it just above her ass. Then I pressed in closer, holding her to me as I bent and took her mouth.

She opened for me instantly, and when I slid my tongue inside, stroking hers, the past disappeared. There was nothing but this woman and the sweet taste of her lips.

My cock swelled, my body craving hers.

Lyla whimpered as I pressed my arousal against her hip.

How many times did we have left? Five. Ten. It wasn’t enough. I already knew, no matter the number, it wouldn’t be enough. So I shuffled us toward the nearest surface, pressing Lyla against a wide, wooden beam.

I tore my mouth from hers, trailing it along her jaw to an earlobe. “Have you ever been fucked out here?”

“No,” she panted, reaching between us. Her palm pressed hard against my erection, earning a groan. “Vance.”

Fuck, but I loved how she said my name.

Almost as much as I liked that she’d worn a dress tonight. It was a caramel turtleneck, the cable knit thick and soft. The boxy shape shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was short, hitting her midthigh so a hint of those toned, smooth legs could taunt me all night. Her sexy boots came almost to her knees.

“I’ve wanted to hike up this dress all night.” I bunched the fabric in my hands, dragging it up her hips. Exactly what I’d wanted to do since the moment I’d watched her come out of her bedroom, her hair curled in long, loose waves and a shimmer on her eyelids.

My hand slid beneath the dress’s hem, diving for the center of her panties.

“You’re already soaked,” I growled against her neck as I slipped the fabric aside, sliding my fingers through her slit to tease at her clit.

“Yes,” she purred, arching into my touch.

“You want my fingers? Or my cock?”

“Both.”

“What do you say?”

She leaned in for a quick kiss and whispered the magic word. “Please.”

I fisted the panties and, with a single, quick tug, tore them off her body.

Lyla gasped, her eyes popping open and shooting me a glare. “Vance.”

She could pretend to be pissed all she wanted. We both knew she got wet as fuck when I tore her panties. Maybe she’d realize before I left there was no point in wearing them at all.

“Mine.” I smirked and tucked the ruined lace in my coat pocket. Then with one hand palming her ass, I dipped a finger into her tight heat.

She melted against me, whimpering as I toyed with her, working her higher and higher. “I love your fingers.”

“My fingers love your pussy.” I added a second finger, stroking her deep until her legs began to tremble.

She’d come on my hand plenty of times, but tonight, I wanted to feel her explode on my cock, so I pulled away, earning another glare.

I quickly unzipped my jeans, fisting my shaft and giving it a few strokes. Then I hoisted Lyla up higher against the post, gripping her thighs as I pinned her with my hips.

“Mouth,” I ordered.

She kissed me immediately, her tongue tangling with mine. I lined up at her entrance, and with one thrust, I buried myself inside her, my jaw clenching as I fought to keep control. “Fuck. You feel so good, Blue.”

Her inner walls fluttered. “Hurry.”

One thrust, and she was ready to come.

I pulled out, slammed inside. Then I reached between us and pressed my wet fingers to her clit.

“Vance.” Her cry echoed through the rafters as she came apart, pulsing around me as I rocked us together, over and over.

It didn’t take long for me to follow her over the edge, my body collapsing over hers, both of us boneless and limp against the post.

A horse whinnied from the other side of the building.

Lyla giggled, that musical laugh right in my ear.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Are you?”

“More than okay.”

She hummed, sleepy and sweet. She’d probably crash on the drive back to town. So I set her on her feet, and with my come leaking down her bare thigh, I led her from the stables and took her home.

Lyla was out before we even reached the highway.

And while she slept, I took in the star-marked skies, praying this weather would hold for just a couple more weeks.

Not just so I had a chance at finding Cormac, but because I needed the time with Lyla.

Except when I woke the next morning, alone in Lyla’s bed because she’d already gone to work, beyond her bedroom windows was a thin layer of icy snow.