"You were a roughie when I met you," she reminds me, her hand laying over mine. "I knew what I was signing up for."
"Did you?" I pull out the ticket voucher. "Pendleton. It's three days of motel rooms and arena dirt and me being gone a lot. You said you'd fly out to see me. So come see me."
She takes the ticket, studying it like she's reading the fine print on a contract, and I watch her face scrunch up. I'm starting to think this was a bad idea.
"What?" I ask, trying to keep the uncertainty out of my voice.
She sighs, her fingers worrying the edge of the ticket. "The venue has a stop-work order. The Whitmores threw their weight around in the city office." Her jaw tightens. "It feels like there are roadblocks going up in every direction, and your family needs all hands-on deck with the hay and everything."
Guilt hits me. I want her all to myself and I don't careabout any of that stuff. I mean, I care, but not enough to stop me from wanting her to come to Pendleton. "I—"
"I'm going to come anyway," she says, cutting off my attempt to convince her to walk away from all this for a couple of days.
I stare at her; not sure I heard right. "You're what?"
"I'm coming to Pendleton." Her voice grows stronger. "I'm coming because I want to be with you."
The honesty of her answer knocks the wind out of me. "Even with everything that's happening here?"
"Especially with everything that's happening here." She meets my eyes, and there's something fierce and tender there that makes my chest tight. "I can show up for you when it matters."
Something uncomfortable twists in my gut—I'm asking a lot of her. More than I've been willing to give and it sucks.
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"I'm choosing you." She laces our fingers together.
The kiss that follows is different from any we've shared before—not desperate or hungry, but deep and sure and full of promises we're both finally brave enough to make.
She settles back against my side, the plane ticket still in her hands, and we watch the sky deepen from gold to rose to the deep purple that comes before stars. The mountains keep their watch around us, and somewhere in the distance a night bird calls to its mate.
"Pendleton's going to be different," I warn her, needing her to understand what she's signing up for. "Not like Jackson Hole with the fancy sponsors and clean hotels. It's grittier, louder, more real."
"I'm okay with that," she says.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent that's become as essential as air. "Three days of me being strung up tighter than barbed wire, Jake's terrible jokes, and enough arena dust to choke a horse."
"Sounds perfect," she murmurs against my shoulder, and the contentment in her voice makes me believe, for the first time in my life, that maybe I can have it all.
Thirty
"YOU MAGNIFICENT, RUTHLESS CREATURE," SHE SAYS WITH OBVIOUS DELIGHT.
KINSLEY
I wake to mountain sunlight streaming through my windows and muscles that ache in all the right ways. The hay harvest left its mark—sore shoulders, callused palms, the kind of tiredness that comes from hard work. My hands are rough and raw; this valley is claiming me, one blister at a time.
Coffee fills the cottage with its rich aroma, a small comfort when everything else feels uncertain. Outside, cattle call across pastures that roll toward the mountains, the sounds of the ranch coming to life.
I can’t believe Wyatt flew home for one day just to see me. I’ve never had someone put that kind of effort into me. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
It's been less than twenty-four hours since he left forCalgary and missing him lives in my chest like hunger. His scent still clings to the blanket draped over my porch swing. I don't have time to think about how much I miss him right now though I’d love to wrap up in that blanket and relive his kisses.
Within twenty minutes, I'm headed up to the main house. Light spills from the kitchen windows, and I can smell the coffee before I even step inside. This kitchen always feels like command central—the place where real decisions get made.
"Good morning, darling," Sarah says. "Good news! Brook called, the stop work order was lifted. She says we might actually pull this miracle off. And, she said to tell you she decided to put a feed order through today." She lifts an eyebrow. “Do I want to know what that’s about?”
I grin. “It might be better if you didn’t.” I settle into the chair across from her, wrapping my hands around the coffee mug she slides toward me. "That's great news about the work order though.”