Page 122 of Anton

Nash smacks his shoulder, which only makes him more entertained.

“Well…” Daddy says, reaching for some bacon. “Alliances in our world are important.”

“You’re not setting my daughter up with the Russian mob.” Jace’s tone drops low as he zeroes a glare at our father.

Mama tsks. “Not table conversation, boys.”

Rue looks between them. “Daddy, are you mad because I’m getting married? I didn’t mean now.” She rolls her eyes. “That would be silly. I meant when I’m bigger.”

Jace picks up her hand and kisses it. “No, baby bear. I’m not mad.”

“Good. Because Lev has kind eyes, and Gran always says kind eyes are important.”

Mama’s face melts. “They sure are. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“And he likes my horse,” Rue continues, counting on her fingers now. “And he can build a super cool tower with Legos. And cherry ice cream is his favorite, like mine, which is very important because not that many kids like cherry ice cream. It’s usually chocolate or vanilla. Boring stuff.”

“Not many at all,” Mama adds, fighting a smile.

Rue nods like her case is airtight. “See? It’s meant to be.”

“Kill me now,” Jace mutters.

Rue’s head snaps toward him. “What was that, Daddy?”

“Nothin’.” He reaches for his coffee, though I think he’s seconds away from needing something stronger. “I said that sounds lovely.”

“You’re handling this so well,” Greer throws in.

“Zip it.”

Cole laughs and Nash gives him another warning look, while Theo simply shakes his head, ever the silent type.

“What?” Cole grins. “I think love is great. Isn’t that right, Jace? Speaking of which, when are you buying Savannah a ring?”

Rue stares at her father expectantly. “Yeah, Daddy. When?”

Jace points at Cole. “One more word…”

Cole chuckles, clearly enjoying the tortured look on our poor brother’s face.

By the afternoon, Greer and I ride out past the pasture, the open land stretching around us while my mind keeps drifting back to Anton, no matter how many times I tell myself to cut it out. I let my gaze hover on the tree line, wondering if he’s still somewhere close, watching from a place no one would think to look.

Though he’s probably back home by now.

Greer slows her horse near the fence line, her mouth set in a hard line. “We need to talk.”

Well, this isn’t good.

I pull my horse to a stop beside hers, already wishing I’d ridden alone. “What’s up?”

She turns in her saddle, studying me. “When exactly did you become friendly with Anton Marinov?”

Shit. How does she know?

“What?”

“Don’t do that.” Her tone remains calm, though anger simmers beneath it. “I caught you with him in New Jersey, Thora. I saw how you were together, so please don’t insult me by pretending I imagined it.”