Page 130 of Saving Grace

“I don’t know.” Her gaze turns harder.

There’s my girl.

Give it back to me, Gracie. Don’t take my shit.

“Reckon you can readjust the girths before we head up the mountain?” I ask.

She sighs and pushes to her feet, heading for Trigger. I follow a little way behind. Once she tightens his girth, she moves to the other side of Sergeant. I slip a hand into the saddle bag behind the fender. The small blue velvet box sits snug in there, waiting just like I am.

“All done,” she says, appearing at Trigger’s head. Her palm rubs his head, and he leans into her. “I’ll grab up the blanket and stuff.” She disappears.

“Still a lost cause for her, I see. Guess that makes two of us, buddy.” I rub his neck. The blanket and basket are bundled away, and I wait for Grace to mount before swinging up onto Trigger. My old work shirt is tugged by the chilly wind as we ride home at a steady walk. I pull my hat down. The sun is low, with winter almost here.

Down on the flat, we wade through the swaying golden grass. The same grass Grace paints. The homestead comes into view, and the golden rays of the day’s dying light splinter over the horizon, framing the ranch where we have lived, loved, fought, picked up the pieces, and weathered our storms together. I pull Trigger to a halt and swing out of the saddle.

Grace rides for home. Standing in the grass, I wait for her to realize I’m not following. A handful of heartbeats later, she twists in her seat, a hand on the back of her saddle. Her headis tilted, eyes squinting against the fading light. The darkness behind me is a stark contrast to the setting halo that has backlit her. I drop the reins and rifle through the saddle bag until I have the velvet box in my hand. I push it into my back pocket.

“Mack, what’s wrong?” she calls back, turning Sergeant around and pushing him into a fast walk.

I meet her in the middle. “Might be stone bruised. You should check Sarge.”

“Oh shit.” She swings down, her hair flying over her shoulders, worried eyes following the hand she runs down Sergeant’s front leg. The light turns almost orange, and the first star pops in the sky.

I drop to one knee behind her.

“Gracie, gorgeous, he’s fine.”

“No, I need to check him. He might—” She spins back and freezes. The horse plants his hoof back to the ground. “Mackinlay...”

Her eyes widen, and I swear she stops breathing.

“Wha—what are you doing?” she rasps. “I thought...”

I smile up at her and take her hands in mine. “Grace Elizabeth Weston. You have brought color where there was only black and white, grey at best. Breathed life into a broken and very lost man. Filled his heart so full it grew exponentially, so much it can never return to what it was. I don’t ever want it to.”

“Mack,” she breathes.

“Gracie, there is only one thing I would change about you.”

She frowns. “Oh?”

I tug the box from my pocket and hold it out to her, flipping the lid on the ring with the princess cut sapphire framed with diamonds on a titanium band.

“Yeah, gorgeous. Your last name. Will you marry me, Grace?”

Her lips parted, her face is part stunned, part twisted with something I can’t place. She sucks in a breath, and her facebreaks. I push to my feet, heart hammering into my rib cage, my gut sinking like a stone. As I fold myself around her, she nuzzles my neck. Her safe place.

Fuck.

This is supposed to be a memory for us to treasure, and instead?—

“Of course I will marry you,” she whispers, lifting her head. Those blue eyes meet mine. “But Mack?”

I hold her at arm’s length and study her face.

“My heart will always belong to Trigger.” She breaks into a laugh, tears streaming down her face.

“Sweet Jesus, Grace. Give a man a damn heart attack.”

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