The family argued.

The family always argued.

It was the Eaton way, Eveline knew. Their parents might be gone, but Everett, Ellis, and her had developed their own brand of negotiation.

Compromise came only when all parties were worn down. The way her brothers were carrying on, Eveline didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon.

She propped her chin on her fist, wishing they would lower their voices. Eaton Edge, their second-generation cattle ranch, was their life. They all worked under its umbrella—Everett as chief of operations, Ellis as his second and lead wrangler, and Eveline as stable manager.    

They were all understandably passionate about it. And passion tended to pump up the volume in meetings where their ideas clashed and everyone else within hearing range—even Paloma, their stalwart adoptive mother and housekeeper—tended to steer clear.

Eveline normally had no qualms about inserting herself into her big brothers’ decision-making process.

But lately, she’d had a lot on her mind. Her father-in-law, Santiago Coldero, and his caregiver had finally been moved from the mental health facility he had lived at for years to the new house her soon-to-be husband, Wolfe, had finished building.  

She was thrilled to have Santiago with her and Wolfe outside the town limits of Fuego, New Mexico, where the sky yawned, the mesa stretched and nights were as black as a water beetle’s wings. There, at the edge of the red desert, deer grazed and horses lived free, just as she had learned to again.

Decorating her and Wolfe’s new nest had been a labor of love, but it had been surprisingly tiring. Between that, her new responsibilities toward Santiago, and splitting her work time between The Edge and her pet project at Ollero Creek rescuing horses with Ellis’s fiance, Luella Decker, she drifted close to the edge of burnout.

Her eyes drifted toward the open door and she started when she saw the man hovering on the other side, in the shadows where her brothers wouldn’t see.

Wolfe watched her from under the black brim of his worn Stetson. When he tilted his chin in question, she caught the glimmer of concern in his eyes.

She glanced at her brothers who were distracted by the map on the desk between them, their backs to her as they took turns gesticulating even if they didn’t take turns talking at one another. She turned her attention back to Wolfe and offered him something of a smile to show him there was no harm done.

He studied her for a moment more, shifting his feet. Then he turned his head, ever so slightly, inviting her to come away.

She began to protest. Then Everett slapped the map. She flinched. This was ridiculous, she thought. They didn’t even realize she was still here. And, for once, she didn’t seem to care.

She rose. “I need a glass of water,” she announced. Whether they heard her over the debate, she couldn’t tell. She ducked out, closing the door so that their noise dimmed. She blew out a breath, closing her eyes to enjoy some measure of quiet. “They’ve been at it for hours.”

His touch grazed the underside of her chin. Her eyes fluttered open and fixed on his. Lowering his hands, he used them to gesture in the sign language he had taught himself as a young, mute boy.

You look tired.

She used her hands to talk back, as she had learned to in recent months. I am.

He gestured, Did you eat?

She nodded. Paloma fed us before the meeting. She wouldn’t tell him she hadn’t been able to eat much. She had been hungry, but when Paloma had served her delicious Sante Fe chili, Eveline had wrestled with her appetite.

He stared hard at the door. Jaw tensed, he said, They should have cut you loose already.

I’m okay, she assured him. I promise.

His hand lay against her hip as he stepped closer in the darkness of the hall. His nose grazed her cheek. Eveline pulled in a breath. He filled her lungs. A keen ache seared through her. Seeking heat, she turned her open mouth to his.

The hand on her hip tightened. It wound around the small of her back then dipped further over her rear as the kiss went beyond a simple exchange and spoke of need and all the things they did together in the dark.

“No,” she said when he began to pull away. It had been a long day, and she hadn’t seen him. Long before his death, her father had been in talks with Wolfe about making him foreman at The Edge. Wolfe’s bitter feud with Everett had put a moratorium on that. He worked on his land outside of town and as Fuego’s solitary tow truck driver.

For now, she thought. She had every intention of appealing to Everett’s better nature, which had begun to soften since the summer when Wolfe and Eveline had clashed and found love in the process. In less than a year, she would have Wolfe back at The Edge where her father had wanted him. If not as foreman then something just as satisfying.

Wolfe was made for The Edge, just as Eveline and her brothers were. Just as he was made for her.

She caught his hand in hers and pulled him away from the closed door of Everett’s office. The house was his now, technically. But she knew these floors as well as the back of her hand. She knew every scratch in the hardwood. She’d counted its joints numerous times.

The kitchen was empty, still rife with the smell of Paloma’s chili, though the pot had been stored away and the stove was clean. Paloma was nowhere to be found.

Eveline opened the door to the pantry and guided him inside. Planting her hand on the door, she shoved it closed. For a second, she absorbed the sound of complete silence. She reveled in it.

Wolfe turned her so that her back was to the door and she faced him. Why are we here? he questioned.

She lifted her finger to her lips. Listen, she gestured.

He did then he grinned because he, too, heard nothing.

She leaned her head back against the door. Sometimes I forget there are any quiet places left in this house.

He nodded, understanding. His eyes searched hers before dropping to her mouth.

She stilled even as everything inside her warmed and drew up to that aching point again. She needed him so much, it shocked her. Unable to grapple with the uptick in emotions she’d grappled with all day…for several days, if she was honest…she scaled to the toes of her boots, making herself taller so that her mouth was level with his when she took it again.

She heard the quick catch of his breath. His grip on her arms firmed. He pulled away, lifting his hands to talk. You said you were tired.

She had been tired. Some part of her still was. But it wanted him as much the others did, too. Not tired enough to stop. She took his hands and guided them to her breasts.

He cupped them through her blouse. Then he hissed when she arched into the caress.

Don’t turn me loose, Wolfe Coldero, she signed. I want you.

His hands flattened, sweeping up her torso then down, washing her in tingles of anticipation. His hands weren’t gentle when he tugged her shirttails from the waist of her jeans.

She didn’t want him gentle. There were those in Fuego who thought Wolfe wasn’t capable of kindness or tenderness.

She’d always known he was. Yet tonight she wanted the part of him that was wild. She wanted the pieces of him that didn’t line up with society, that had long made him an outsider.

By the time he’d parted her blouse, she’d discarded his shirt entirely. She undid his belt as he unbuckled her jeans, nudging them over her hips.

He took her against the door. When she moaned, he placed his hand over her mouth to quiet her. “Sh,” he said and nothing else as his hips surged against hers and sweat gathered between them. She reveled in his deep-seated strokes and bit his hand as she tipped over the edge of reason.

He shuddered after her moments later, emptying himself inside her. He dropped his hand from her mouth but continued to hold her against the door as they both panted in the aftermath.

Yes, she thought, turning her lips into the long strong line of his muscled throat. He’d known exactly what she’d wanted, needed, and he’d given it. In her brother’s house. Hidden behind the door to Paloma’s pantry.

Her eyes popped open. She lifted her head from his shoulder. His eyes were closed. His lungs still swelled against hers in rapid breaths. “Wolfe,” she said, hoarse.

He opened his eyes, looked at her, and arced a lazy brow.

She searched him as if she would find the truth on his face. “I’m late.”

His brows came together. Gently now, he lowered her feet to the floor and pulled out.

As his attention dropped to the mess they’d made of things below, she said it again. “I’m late!”

Again, he looked at her questioningly. Confused. Then he stilled.

She watched realization hit. He nearly staggered under the blow.

It was her turn to cover her hand with her mouth. She pressed her other hand to her bare belly.

Dear God Almighty, she thought. Tired. Hungry. No appetite. Emotional. Late.

It all made sense.

Slowly, he drew his pants back up and zipped them. He buckled his belt, his eyes a cloud of thoughts.

Wolfe, she signed, unable to take the silence any longer. Say something.

Bare from the waist up, he hesitated. When his hands moved, they did so slowly, carefully. It’s okay.

She shook her head quickly. This wasn’t the plan. The wedding isn’t for another three months. What are we—

He raised his hand to her brow. From there, he traced the shape of her face in a circle from top to bottom and up again.

She subsided. It was his way of saying her name. He didn’t spell it out in American Sign Language. He’d said it only twice in his whole life. Evie.

He’d struggled to say it when he’d told her he loved her for the first time, and she’d loved him all the more for it.

He was too overcome to say it now. She knew it as much as she struggled to claim her own thoughts and feelings.

It’s okay, he signed again, more surely this time. He nodded when her eyes fastened to his. We wanted a family.

She sighed. This soon?

He smiled a little. Too late to turn back now.

His smile freed her own. She expelled a shaky breath. Oh, my God. We’re pregnant.

His hand came to rest over the one she had rested on her stomach. He tipped his mouth to hers, tender, loving. He drew back just enough to sign, My woman. My child.

I love you, she gestured.

He nodded in response. Me, too.

The knob of the door rattled. He snatched her away from it, shielding her body with his just as it opened.

Paloma frowned at them. Then she saw the state of their clothing, Wolfe’s finger-combed hair, and she tutted. “You two don’t ever tire of being caught with your pants down in places you don’t belong?”

Eveline struggled to cover up a laugh even as her cheeks heated in embarrassment. “We were just trying to find a quiet place.”

Paloma hmphed. She rolled her eyes at the sound of voices just audible through the walls. “If the two of you weren’t indecent, I’d ask you to let me in.” She held the door open so they could exit. “If you’re good and finished…”

“We are,” Eveline informed her and buttoned her blouse carefully as he scooped his shirt off the floor and they left the pantry. When Paloma closed the door and turned, Eveline found herself facing her.

Paloma stopped and stared. “You’ve got secrets leaping out of her eyes, niña.” She looked to Wolfe who shuffled his feet and couldn’t quite hide a grin. She crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”

Eveline felt tears gather underneath her eyes. They stung the ducts, welling forth. “Oh, Paloma. I’m going to…” When she couldn’t say anything else, she gestured mutely in the direction of her stomach.

Paloma’s expression cleared. “There’s…going to be a baby?” She looked to Wolfe, stunned.

Wolfe nodded. A wide grin took control of his face.

Paloma gathered Eveline close. “How are you? Are you feeling all right?”

Eveline didn’t know if the breath she released was a laugh or a sob. “I’m fine. A little tired, but fine.”

“I wondered why you weren’t eating…” Paloma stroked her hair, her arms, her cheek. “Oh, niña! You’re going to be a mama. And Wolfe’s going to be a daddy.”

Wolfe. A daddy. Eveline blinked several times, biting back tears. “A daddy.”

Paloma folded her to her again. She rocked her. “All will be well. Don’t you worry, Miss Evie.”

Her fears quieted. Her doubts ceased to exist. Over Paloma’s shoulder, her gaze collided with Wolfe.

Was it just her or was her man standing a little bit taller?

Everett and Ellis chose that moment to intrude. “Who died?” Everett asked.

“No one,” Paloma said. “Why?”

“Everybody’s weepy,” he said, lip curling in distaste.

Eveline reined in her emotions. She turned to face her brothers. “We’re celebratin’. We got approved for another horse adoption through Ollero Creek.”

“Really?” Ellis said. “Luella didn’t mention.”

“She finds out tomorrow.” She pointed at him. “Don’t you go spoiling the surprise.”

Ellis raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. Still, he studied Wolfe’s barely contained grin, suspicious.

Paloma squeezed Eveline’s hand. “Come. I’ll make you something.”

“Didn’t we just have dinner?” Everett challenged.

“That was hours ago,” Paloma dismissed. She tugged Eveline into the pantry. “What are you craving?” she whispered. “I’ll cook you anything you need.”

“You’re spoiling her already,” Eveline said. She caught herself cradling her nonexistent bump again. “Or him.”

Paloma winked conspiratorially. “Him. Her. Doesn’t matter. Baby Coldero will come into this world craving my tamales.”

They laughed together. As Paloma selected ingredients from the shelves, murmuring to herself, Eveline tipped her head to her shoulder.

She was going to be a mama. Wolfe was going to be a daddy. And Paloma was going to be a grandmother.

A calm descended over Eveline, cleansing and thorough. Everything was exactly as it should be.

© Amber Leigh Williams