I should insist on addressing the complications immediately, on setting boundaries and making plans. The soldier in me, the protector, demands preparation and strategy.
But the man in me, the one who's held himself apart for too long, can't deny her this moment of peace.
"We can have the morning," I agree, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But after breakfast, we talk. About everything."
"Deal." She smiles, then glances at the kitchen. "Think you can manage eggs without burning them, or should I handle breakfast?"
The teasing note in her voice, so natural and easy, surprises a laugh from me. "I can manage eggs. Though I'm better at field rations than home cooking."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." She sits up, stretching again. "I'll make coffee while you prove your culinary skills."
We move around the kitchen together, establishing a rhythm that feels both new and strangely familiar. I crack eggs into abowl while she grinds beans for coffee. Our bodies brush as we navigate the small space, each touch sending electricity through me.
It's domestic in a way my life hasn't been in decades, if ever. The simple pleasure of preparing a meal with someone else, of quiet conversation and shared space, feels like a revelation.
I'm sliding toast onto plates when the sound of tires on gravel reaches us. We both freeze, listening as a vehicle approaches the cabin.
"Expecting someone?" Riley asks, tension returning to her stance.
"No." I move to the window, peering through the blinds. Relief floods me when I recognize the sheriff's department SUV. "It's Sawyer."
The relief is short-lived as I register what my brother's early morning visit might mean. Sawyer doesn't make social calls, especially not at dawn. His appearance can only signify trouble.
Riley reads my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Not sure yet. Stay here."
I step onto the porch as Sawyer exits his vehicle, noting immediately the grim set of his features. Something's happened. Something bad enough to bring the sheriff up the mountain at first light.
"Morning," I greet him, bracing for whatever news he brings.
Sawyer cuts straight to the point, voice pitched low. "Cooper's filing for a restraining order against Riley. Claims she's been harassing him, threatening him."
Cold anger settles in my gut. "That's bullshit."
"Of course it is. But his daddy's got the mayor's ear, and the mayor's leaning on Judge Harmon." Sawyer's eyes are hard. "There's more. Derek Cooper's been released. His father posted bail first thing this morning."
"On what grounds?"
"Claimed they were legally hunting on Cooper property that borders national forest." My brother's disgust is evident. "Judge bought it, despite the illegal weapons we found. Or pretended to."
Pieces click into place in my mind, Cooper's threats, his cousin's release, the restraining order. It's not random harassment. It's a coordinated effort to isolate Riley, to cut off her support systems, to make her vulnerable.
"There's one more thing," Sawyer adds, studying my face carefully. "Cooper's claiming Riley's staying with you because you two are involved. Romantically. Has been suggesting to anyone who'll listen that it started before she was legal."
The accusation, so calculated and vile, sends rage surging through me. In an instant, I'm transported back to combat zones where rules and laws meant nothing, where survival depended on strength and will alone.
"I'll kill him," I say, voice deadly calm.
Sawyer's hand lands on my shoulder, restraining. "No, you won't. That's exactly what they want. You lose your temper, they have grounds to move against you too."
He's right, damn him. Cooper's playing a game, using the system he knows so well to isolate Riley, to push me into a reaction that will discredit us both.
"What's the plan?" I ask, forcing my mind to strategy rather than violence.
"For now? Keep your head down. I'm working on getting the restraining order denied, but it'll take time. Meanwhile," He pauses, eyes shifting to something behind me.
I turn to find Riley standing in the doorway, face pale but composed. How much she's heard, I can't tell, but enough to understand the situation.
