I threw myself into avoiding Colt McKenna like my life depended on it while the memory haunted me at the worst moments.

His hands tracing slow circles on my back. His breath against my lips. The way his hazel eyes had darkened just before my phone shattered whatever was about to happen between us.

I buried it beneath maternal duties. The triplets’ first day of kindergarten approached like a gift from heaven, and I clung to the distraction like a lifeline.

My father’s Parkinson’s had flared badly that morning, leaving him bedridden with tremors that made my heart ache. Stella agreed to watch the children while Marisol dragged me into town for shopping.

New backpacks in three different colors. New clothes that would be grass-stained within a week. Small shoes that made my chest tight with how quickly my babies were growing up.

“So.” Marisol’s voice carried that knowing tone I dreaded. “How are things going with the baby daddies cowboys?”

My mind betrayed me instantly.

Colt’s thumb on my spine. The heat in his eyes as he leaned closer. The way his voice had dropped when he said my name.

“It’s fine,” I said, examining a pair of sneakers like they held the secrets of the universe. “Everyone’s busy with ranch work. Nothing more.”

Marisol snorted but let it drop. She knew better.

When I returned home laden with packages. My arms ached from carrying bags, and my truck had made alarming sounds the whole drive back.

Kameron appeared before I reached the porch. He took the packages from my arms without asking and his ice-blue eyes noted my frazzled state with concern.

“Let me drive the kids to kindergarten tomorrow,” he said. “That truck of yours sounds like it’s dying a slow death.”

“No.” The refusal came out sharper than I intended. “Thank you, but no. I’ll handle it.”

He didn’t argue, just shifted the bags in his arms and followed me toward the cottage. Levi intercepted us at the door, bouncing with an excitement I rarely saw from my quiet son.

“Mama! Mama, can we learn to ride horses? I watched Big Kam earlier and it looked sooo cool. And Lily wants to try. And Luke already picked which horse he wants. And please, Mama, please-please-please?”

His siblings materialized behind him, their faces bright with identical hope.

“No.” My voice came out firm. Final. “Absolutely not. You’re too young and it’s too dangerous for you.”

“But Mama…” Luke started.

I took the bags from Kameron and met his eyes. “Thank you for helping. You can go now.”

His easy smile didn’t falter. “I’m nearby if you need anything, firecracker.”

I watched him walk away, then herded my disappointed children inside for dinner and the nightly battle of baths and bedtime.

By the time silence finally settled over the cottage, I felt wrung out like a dishrag.

I slipped onto the porch and sank into the old rocking chair, letting the evening air cool my heated skin.

Footsteps on gravel made my spine stiffen.

Of course. One of them always appeared when I tried to find peace.

Kameron emerged from the shadows, settling into the chair beside mine without invitation. For once, he didn’t flirt. Didn’t push. Just sat there in the quiet, and his presence unexpectedly felt… comfortable.

It unsettled me more than his usual swagger would have.

“You know, I learned to ride when I was even younger than your kids,” he said after a while, his voice lacking its usual cocky edge. “Fell off more times than I can count. Broke my arm twice. Scared myself so bad once that I didn’t get back on for three whole months.”

I turned to study him, suspicious of this softer version. His profile in the fading light looked younger somehow, vulnerable in a way that made my chest tighten dangerously.

“But I got back on eventually,” he continued, eyes fixed on the horizon. “And every fall, every fear I pushed through—it built something in me. Courage, maybe. Or just stubbornness.” A self-deprecating smile touched his lips. “Probably stubbornness.”

Don’t do this, I warned myself. Don’t let him in. Don’t see him as anything more than the boy who let them humiliate you.

But I was already seeing it—something genuine beneath years of practiced charm.

The words knocked the breath from my lungs. He remember that?

For you.

Not just better. Better for me.

Why should I care what Colt thought? Why does it bother me right now?

“What happened between you and Colt?” Kameron’s question made me jump.

He’d tracked my entire reaction, those sharp eyes missing nothing. He’d seen it too—the tension in my posture, the guilt I couldn’t quite hide.

My stomach dropped and I answered quickly. Perhaps too quickly, “Nothing.”

He studied me for a long moment, and I saw him putting pieces together. The way Colt watched me. The way I’d just reacted to his presence. The tension that sparked whenever the three of us were in the same space.

He didn’t believe me. I could see it in the tilt of his mouth, the sharpness behind his easy expression. But surprisingly, he didn’t push.

I stood abruptly, needing distance before I did something stupid like tell him the truth.

“I’m going to bed. Kindergarten comes early tomorrow.”

Before I could reach the door, his hand caught mine. Gentle but firm, his calluses rough against my palm. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm.

“Ivory.”

I turned back, startled by the intensity in his voice. His eyes held mine, too serious, stripping away pretense, but I couldn’t look away.

“I’m not going to give up. Whatever happened with Colt, whatever walls you’ve built—I’m going to prove to you that I’m good for you. That I’m worth choosing.”

Worth choosing.

The words lodged in my chest like shrapnel. As if this was about choosing between them. As if I hadn’t already been destroyed by wanting them both.

I pulled my hand free, though my skin still burned from his touch, and escaped inside without another word.

In bed, I pressed my palms against my eyes and tried to slow my racing heart. Kameron’s apology echoed in my mind. Colt’s jealous expression haunted me.

And beneath it all, a terrible truth was taking root: They were both getting under my skin again. Both making me want things I couldn’t have. Both making me forget why I needed to keep them at a distance.

And I hated myself for it.