“Do you have a favorite of the three?” I asked.
“It’s your band, Luke. I want you to like it.”
I nodded. “I have a favorite.”
She smiled. “Okay, let’s label them. One, two, and three.”
The third one was the one I liked the most. It had a satin finish in the middle with polished edges. I couldn’t wait to see which one she’d picked.
“Let’s say the number on three,” Bree said with a gleeful look on her face.
Holding up her hand, she counted down. On three, we both said, “Three.”
“There you go,” the jeweler stated. He handed Bree the ring, and she slipped it onto my left ring finger. After we untied the paper ring, of course.
One month later
I watched as my fishing line bobbed in the water while Kyle, Hunter, and Bishop talked about the proper way to cook trout.
“Why would you put garlic on it, Kyle?” Hunter asked.
Kyle replied, “Because I like garlic, Hunter.”
“I’m telling you, you put a bit of seasoning on it, some lemons, and wrap it up in foil and bake it. Best damn trout you’ll ever eat.”
That came from Bishop.
“You shouldn’t cook with aluminum foil.”
We all turned to look at Kyle as he cast out.
“Why not?” I asked.
He looked at me as if I should know the answer. “It’s not good for you.”
“What?” Hunter and Bishop said at the same time.
“Yeah,” Kyle stated. “I can’t remember who told me that.”
“The salesman who sold you that expensive set of pans,” Hunter stated.
Kyle shot Hunter a dirty look.
Bishop sighed. “Well, hell. That’s the only way I make my fish.”
“You’re fine, Bishop,” Hunter said with a laugh. “Kyle here got duped into buying expensive-ass pans.”
“I did not! And besides, I only bought them from her because she was pretty.”
Hunter laughed. “I rest my case. There’s this paper you can buy that’s for baking. I put some lemon pepper on my fish, asparagus, and slices of lemon, fold it up in the paper and bake it. Best damn meal you’ve ever had.”
“Christ,” I said as I reeled in my empty line. “If you three keep talking about food, I’m packing up and leaving you here to go get something to eat.”
Now all three of them looked at me.
“I’m down for that,” Kyle said with a half smile. “I haven’t caught one damn fish that was a keeper.”
Hunter groaned. “At least you caught something.”
We packed up our stuff and started for Hunter’s truck.
“How’s the house hunting going?” Bishop asked while Kyle and Hunter walked ahead of us.
“We’ve found a few places, but nothing that’s jumped out at us yet.”
“You ever think about buying land and building?”
I nodded, rubbing at the back of my neck. “We talked about it, but I think Bree wants something more historical.”
Kyle was putting his fishing rod in the holder that Hunter had set up in the back of his truck when he stopped and looked at me. “When I was patrolling yesterday, I saw a house for sale down from my folks’. They live on one of the oldest streets in Boggy Creek. The house was right around the corner from them on Clay Street. It’s about three blocks from Main.”
“Really? What does it look like?”
“Typical colonial-style. Most likely built in the 1800s.”
A spark of excitement hit me. “No kidding?”
He nodded. “You guys should go check it out.”
“I’ll let Bree know.”
After we got all of our stuff packed up and slipped into the truck, Kyle turned around from the front passenger seat and said, “I expect a finder’s fee if you buy the house.”
I raised a brow. “And what exactly is your price?”
He smiled. “Ah, still so new to the fold.”
Bishop and Hunter both laughed.
“I’ll call in a favor when least expected.”
“Is that so?” I deadpanned. “I’m going to guess since you’re a cop, it wouldn’t be anything illegal.”
Kyle simply smiled, then faced forward. I looked at Bishop, who shrugged.
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Why do I feel like the three of you have had some adventures?”
They all laughed.
“Wait until ice fishing,” Hunter stated.
I couldn’t help but smile. The three guys in the truck, along with Hudson and Aiden, had welcomed me into their group with open arms. They held nothing back and treated me like one of the guys. And I would forever be thankful for that. They’d made settling into this new life easier than I’d honestly thought it would be.
I pulled out my phone and sent Bree a text, letting her know about the house Kyle had mentioned. I also told her that we needed to go in knowing that if we bought it, Kyle wanted a “finder’s fee” in return.
The next morning, Bree and I stood in the kitchen of the house Kyle had told us about.
“It was built in 1830 and sits on one acre of land,” the realtor said. “Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and it’s three-thousand square feet.”