slowing their pace as the boys and Marian walked ahead talking animatedly with the man who’d come to collect them for breakfast. “My lady protests too much. You were thinking about you and me doing the nasty, weren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t call anything we do together nasty, Bane.” Myrt lifted her chin, aiming her haughtiest expression his direction.
His laughter was easy and soft, and he stopped in the middle of the trail, pulling her against his chest. “We could step behind a tree and they’d never miss us. Boys are headed to play with Gunny’s and Blackie’s kids, and Marian will be swept into the woman-whirlwind happening in the kitchen right now.” He trailed a finger along her cheek, booping the tip of her nose. “And you and I could do the not-nasty right here, if you wanted me. I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, Myrt. Swear on my soul, baby.”
“I believe you.” She watched in surprise as his eyes closed and saw the way his Adam’s apple traveled down and up his neck with a hard swallow. “Bane, baby.” His continued silence made her uneasy, uncertain in a way she didn’t like. “I do. I believe you.”
“I know you do, baby.” Rough, his voice still settled along her skin like satin, smoothing out the worrisome goose bumps that had raised her hair. “It hits deep, because it matters so much. I didn’t know how much I needed that. It’s a precious thing, your trust and belief.” His eyes flashed open, shining with emotion. “I’ll never do you wrong. Never. I’ll never betray your trust, baby.”
Myrt folded herself against him, loving how his arms came up naturally to wrap around her. “I believe that, too. You said earlier you were looking, didn’t know what for, but you were looking. So was I. It might have taken me longer to get started, to get unstuck from where I’d been left. Still, it had to be the right time, because here you are.”
“Here I am, and here you are.” The weight of his cheek rested against the top of her head, and his voice rumbled reassuringly through his chest to her ears. “And here we’re meant to be.”
“So fuckin’ sappy. I don’t think I even know you anymore, brother.”
Myrt groaned and Bane laughed, turning them to face their visitor. Their voices overlapped as they named him, as familiar with his voice as each other’s by now. The grumbled “Brother” came from Bane, while Myrt said a laughing, “Gunny.”
“Food’s gettin’ cold, so I was sent to retrieve the two of you.” Gunny wedged his way in between them, slinging an arm across Bane’s shoulders as he curved his other around Myrt’s waist. He forced them into step with him, tromping through the weeds the last few yards to the defined edge of Vanna and Truck’s yard. “I got you.” He sounded so pleased with himself Myrt had to laugh, making Bane scowl at her around Gunny’s chest.
“Woman.” Whatever else he’d been about to say was interrupted by a cheer from the men and women wandering around the house in front of them.
“Patchover,” Truck shouted, a fist thrust into the air. “Breakfast first, then we’ll get to the patchovers.”
“Brother,” Bane yelled back, “you sound excited to be my second.”
“Oh I am, brother. I very much am. Cannot wait to see what you’re gonna do with this new chapter.”
The door opened as Vanna appeared, face wreathed in a smile. “There’s the happy couple.” Stepping to the side, she gestured into the house. “Come on in, the boys have already finished eating, but Marian’s still at the table.” As Myrt and Bane passed her, she paused each for a quick kiss on the cheek Myrt was happy to return. “Hope you had a good night and a better morning.” She turned away with a wink, and Myrt was glad Vanna couldn’t see her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Everybody does it, baby. We haven’t done a single thing to be ashamed of.” Bane’s whisper was meant for her, mouth close to her ear as he steered her to the table. “I’m not a big breakfast guy, but those pancakes seem to suit you, Miss I’ll Have Cake for Breakfast.” Myrt twisted her head to glare at him, but he pulled the expression right off her face when he kissed her softly. “Sit and visit. I need to take care of business.”
“What’s a patchover?” She turned in his arms and threaded her hands behind his neck, pulling him