Page 67 of The Cowboy Who Stayed

“Alright, pop question,” Rhett says. “If you could only listen to three albums for the rest of your life, what are they?”

“That’s a cruel question and you know it.”

“Humor me, doc.”

I take a sip of wine and actually think about it. “Sade, Love Deluxe. Obviously.”

“Obviously. That one’s got sentimental value at this point.”

“Prince, Purple Rain. Nonnegotiable.”

“And the third?”

I glance toward the living room where the record player is still spinning. “Ask me tomorrow and I might give you a different answer. But tonight? This one. Fleetwood Mac, Rumours.”

“Solid list.” He leans back in his chair with his beer. “Mine would be Marvin Gaye What’s Going On, Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison, and whatever album you happen to be playing when I walk through your door.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Is it though?” he chuckles. “You’ve got good taste, doc. Haven’t played anything yet I didn’t approve of. Though I’ll admit that New Edition vinyl is questionable.”

“New Edition is still hot!” I exclaim in offense. “You had to be there.”

“Don’t go pulling the age card again.”

I laugh and shake my head, feeling pleasantly warm and tipsy from the beer I’m sipping on.

“So, were you serious about being okay with spending Thanksgiving with my aunt and me?”

He cocks a brow. “You’re seriously asking me that? You know what my original plans for the holiday were? My daily pain killers and the hardwood floor in my house. That, and football.”

“My auntie actually loves football. Err, well, she loves watching the big, muscly men in the tight pants.”

“A football fan is a football fan.”

Our talk turns to other discussions about the future.

Rhett voices aloud that he’s been thinking about getting certified in equine care. A slow smile comes to my face as I listen to him talk about the aspiration.

“Figured it might be worth looking into,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve got to accept the fact that my military career is over. Silver Creek’s been good for me, but I want more than being a ranch hand. I want to work even closer with the animals.”

“Rhett, that would be amazing. You could shadow me and Ridge around the ranch too, if you’d like. It’d give you a better idea of what equine care involves.”

“Means a lot you’d be cheering me on.”

He grabs my hand for an appreciative squeeze.

The track “Songbird” eventually fades into comfortable silence and the record reaches the end of its side, the needle clicking in the runout groove.

We haven’t let go of each other as we exchange a fond look, and the urge to be truthful rises up inside me.

It’s sudden and unexpected. But it’s also natural progression as my heart flutters and I look into his handsome face and know it’s the right moment.

“Rhett,” I say. “I love you.”

Surprise flickers in his gaze, then his lips spread wider into a grin. His thumb strokes across my knuckles.

“Looks like we’ve got that in common,” he says smoothly. “Because I love you too, Vivica Murphy. Been wanting to say it for a while now.”