John

The ranch feels different tonight. It is not tense, not hostile and just... charged. When I step into the main house, the first thing I notice is the smell rich, smoky, unmistakable. It is Steak, thick cuts searing on a cast‑iron grill pan, the kind that fills the whole house with heat and promise.

I hear them before I see them, boots on the floor, hesitant steps, a soft whisper I can’t make out. Then they appear in the doorway. It is Leilani and Jasmyn. Leilani looks like she was born in those daisy duke shorts. Her flannel is tied at the waist, her boots are worn from real dirt, and she’s wearing that unmistakable naughty glint in her eyes the one that always means she’s stirring something up.

Jasmyn… looks like she’s been dropped into the wrong movie. Her outfit is brand‑new from top to bottom. The denim is crisp, the flannel still has fold lines, and her boots shine like they’ve never touched anything rougher than a studio floor. She’s an R&B star who usually walks into a room dressed like she owns it, but right now she looks painfully out of place. And I can’t help noticing her legs long, toned, framed by shorts she clearly didn’t choose. She keeps tugging at the hem, trying to make them longer, trying to make herself smaller.

She tries to step back, maybe to hide behind Leilani, but Leilani is standing right behind her, blocking the retreat. Jasmyn’s brand‑new boots slide on the polished floor, and she slips forward with a startled breath. I move without thinking. My hands catch her by the arms, but I grab her breast instead. She immediately grabs my hand, steadying her before she hits the ground. She freezes, mortified, cheeks burning—and then shoots a glare past me at Leilani. It’s sharp, irritated, the kind of look someone gives when they’ve been pushed into something they never wanted to do.

Leilani just lifts her brows, pretending innocence, not fooling anyone.

Jasmyn straightens quickly, pulling away from me, tugging at her shirt, trying to reclaim some dignity. I let go slowly, trying to ignore the quick rush of heat that hit me when she fell into my hands. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of them, how close they are, or what led to this moment—but that glare tells me there’s a story I’m not privy to.

And I’m suddenly very aware of both of them standing there, flushed, hair tied back, eyes bright with something heavier than embarrassment. She’s still shaky from nearly going down, so when I let go of her arms, she doesn’t fully step away. Instead, she keeps one hand on my forearm—using me as a quiet, embarrassed crutch while she tries to get her balance back.

I try to ease the tension with a small smile. “Careful there,” I say. “City girl in ranch clothes… that’s a dangerous combination.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide, mortified—but then she exhales, almost a laugh, almost a groan. “City girl,” she mutters. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

She shoots another glare over her shoulder at Leilani. “I got manipulated,” she says flatly. “Your girlfriend here told me I needed to ‘blend in’ and wear ranch clothes.”

Leilani just shrugs, all innocence and mischief. “You look so sexy.”

Jasmyn gives her a look that could peel paint. Then she turns back to me, still holding onto my arm, still trembling just a little. “And then I almost broke my neck in these stupid boots,” she says. “So… thank you. For catching me. Again.”

Her voice softens, the embarrassment fading into something heavier. “And thank you for protecting her,” she adds quietly. “From that man. From that loan. From everything he tried to do.”

She straightens, wiping her eyes, trying to rebuild that superstar composure—but she doesn’t let go of my arm right away. Leilani steps beside her, placing a steadying hand on her back.

“I told her what you did,” Leilani says softly. “What you are.”

Jasmyn nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” she whispers. “She did.”

And for the first time, I see the two of them not as a mismatched pair in borrowed clothes—but as two women carrying something heavy together, something I’m only just beginning to understand.

Jasmyn manages yanks the boots off revealing her polished toes and her sexy feet. The girls look at me as Leilani says, “Pookie… I have a naughty proposal.”

She glances at Jasmyn, then back at me.

Jasmyn, lowers her voice and says “She wants both of us, share you. ”

I feel the shift in the room, the gravity of it. Leilani continues, her tone steady, her eyes locked on mine. “Romance we have. Not ownership. But the pull I have on you.”

The words land like a stone in still water. Jasmyn doesn’t step away. She doesn’t deny it. She just watches me, breathing shallow, waiting.

Leilani presses on. “Let her feel the safety you give me. Let her feel what it’s like to be protected by someone who doesn’t want to break her.”

Jasmyn’s voice is barely a whisper. “I want my husband to feel pain, and it is definitely going hurt more if it is with political rival.”

Leilani nods, her gaze never leaving mine. “It maybe for the weekend only, or maybe longer.”

The steaks sizzle. The ranch is silent outside. Two women stand in front of me, one is loyal, one is wounded, both looking to me for something different, but equally heavy.

And the night is just beginning.