Page 61 of Sinful Sharing

“Nope,” Jude mutters, pouring an unhealthy amount of syrup on a stack of pancakes. “Can’t be terrified when I’m ready. We’re ready.”

Tomorrow we reopen, and guests will start arriving. Silver Sage Retreat will officially become what we’ve spent nine months rebuilding. “I know we’re ready, but it still feels surreal. I can’t believe we’re booked solid,” I say, shaking my head.

Roman grunts around a bite of toast. “You can thank yourself for that.”

I shrug, though hearing him say it gives me a warm feeling. “I just made people want to come.”

“You did more than that,” Jude says, pointing his fork at me. “You revamped the website and our social media accounts, and you got all those travel agencies on board. I still don’t know how you convinced so many influencers to visit for our soft opening last week.”

“My face,” I joke.

Jude grins. “You might have a point there. But this old place now looks like the hottest winter destination in Montana, and it’s partly because of you.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds impressive.”

“It is impressive,” Roman chips in.

Coming from him, those two words mean everything.

A year ago, this place was falling apart. Now every cabin is reserved through winter. Every horseback excursion has waiting lists. The spa appointments are nearly full before we’ve even opened the doors. People are actually excited about Silver Sage Retreat, and I pinch myself whenever I think about it.

Sometimes I still have to remind myself that this is my life now. I’m the manager of a boutique western resort, not a future attorney forcing his way through law school. I’m not the guy pretending to be someone I’m not because it made my mother’s career easier.

“You son-of-a-bitch.”

I glance up. Roman is glaring at Jude, who asks innocently, “What?”

“I saw that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Roman huffs. “You snatched the bacon from my plate.”

Jude looks as if he’s about to deny it, but then he shrugs. “Fine, it was lonely.”

“It was my breakfast.”

“Well, it wanted friends.” Jude gestures to the two strips of bacon on his plate.

Roman sighs dramatically, reaching for the platter of bacon in the center of the table. “I’ve somehow fallen in love with two idiots.”

“Hey! Why am I catching a stray?” I protest, chuckling.

“Because you enable him,” Roman grumbles. “Now he’s bothering me.”

Jude flashes him a grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You know you love it.”

The hint of a smile pulls at Roman’s lips as he scoops another serving of bacon. It still amazes me how much has changed in a year. There was a time when the tension in this house was thicker than those pancakes on Jude’s plate. Roman barely spoke, and Jude hid behind sarcasm. Now, breakfast includes stolen bacon, terrible jokes, teasing, and a professing of love that makes it feel as if someone poured warm liquid in my stomach. I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.

Not everything is perfect, though.

My thoughts drift to my mother. Congresswoman Natasha Sanders. We still talk. Once a month, sometimes twice if our schedules line up. Our conversations remain polite and safe. We talk about the weather, the ranch, her committee assignments, but never the issues between us. Never mind the fact that she tried to make me ruin someone else’s life. I haven’t told Roman about what she wanted me to do. I’ll take that secret to my grave.

Jude’s voice pulls me back. “I’ve been thinking.”

Roman groans immediately. “Oh, hell, that’s never a good thing.”

Jude slides him a look hot enough to melt the snow outside. “It usually is.”