Page 34 of Oops, I Fell For The Ranch Hand Next Door

“I will.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “When you’re ready. When you’ve had enough time to be certain this is what you want.”

“I’m certain now.” I meet his eyes. “I chose you. I chose this. I’m not changing my mind.”

Satisfaction moves across his face. He pulls me closer, eliminating any remaining space, and we lie there in the darkness with our bodies touching and our breathing synchronized.

The dove sits on the mantel with wings spread wide. Hope embodied in wood, ready for forever.

For the first time in fifteen years, I’m not running from anything.

I’m running toward everything I’ve been too afraid to want.

Chapter twelve

Eli

The dove’s gone from the mantel.

I stand in my cabin’s main room staring at the empty space where carved wings spread yesterday, and possession coils low in my gut. Jessie took it with her this morning when she went to collect her remaining things from Bluebonnet. Moving her belongings piece by piece, claiming space in my life the same way I claimed space in hers.

Three days since she chose me, and she’s stopped waking with panic in her eyes.

My phone buzzes. Text from Sloane: Celebration dinner tonight. 6 pm. Don’t be late.

The entire ranch knows Jessie’s staying. Louanne’s been cooking since dawn, her particular brand of love language involving enough food to feed twice our actual headcount. Cash ordered champagne from the good liquor store one town over from Rowdyrose. Even Rev drove out yesterday to drop off a housewarming gift.

The screen door bangs. Jessie appears on the porch carrying a cardboard box full of odds and ends, hair escaping its clip in honey-colored strands, wearing my flannel over a tank top that’s riding up to expose the soft curve of her belly. My palms itch to span that softness, to pull her close and remind her exactly why she chose this life.

“That the last of it?” I cross to take the box from her.

“Almost.” She wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Just need one more trip.”

I set the box inside. “Sloane offered you the permanent position?”

“I signed this morning.” Her fingers curl into my shirt. “I’m officially employed by Granitehart Ranch.”

I cup her face and kiss her, my lips claiming and grateful in equal measure. When we break apart, she’s smiling like someone who just decided to stop apologizing for existing.

“Louanne’s making dinner tonight,” I tell her. “Celebration. The whole family.”

“Family.” She tests the word. “Is that what we are now?”

“Yeah.” I kiss her temple. “That’s what we are.”

She stays pressed against me for three breaths, four, her ribs expanding and contracting beneath my palms. Then she pulls back with visible effort. “I need to grab the last box before it gets too hot. Come with me?”

Her hand finds mine on the path to Bluebonnet, her fingers lacing through mine without prompting. The cabin sits almost empty when we arrive, door unlocked. She collects the final pieces, a few books, a framed photo, the Mason jar that held my wildflowers.

“You okay?” I lean against the doorframe.

“Yeah.” She sets the jar in the box carefully. “It’s strange. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it already seems like this cabin was just a stopping point between who I was and who I’m becoming.”

The observation lands with weight. She’s right: This cabin was a threshold, not a destination. The space she needed to figure out if staying was running toward her life or just away from everything else.

“You ready to leave it behind?” I ask.

She turns, box in her arms, and resolve crosses her face. “I’m ready to come home.”

I take the box from her, and we walk back through heat climbing toward triple digits. By the time we reach my cabin, our cabin, sweat tracks down her spine, dampening the tank top in ways that make my cock stir.