Page 28 of Mountain Rancher

I freeze, a strip of bacon halfway to my plate.

“I... I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

But even as I say it, I realize it’s not entirely true. Last night, lying in Hunter’s arms, I started mentally drafting an email to my boss about extending my vacation. About exploring remote work options.

“Yes, you have,” Hunter says quietly beside me, his eyes knowing. “And so have I.”

Our gazes lock, and a thousand unspoken promises pass between us. The life we could build here, together. The future suddenly stretching out before us, full of possibility.

“Well, whenever you decide,” Savannah says, “we have plenty of room at theFit Mountain Monthlyfor a financial director. Just saying.”

“And Hunter’s cabin could use a woman’s touch,” Brody adds with a wink. “Those curtains are atrocious.”

The conversation flows around us as my family already incorporates Hunter and me as a couple into their future plans. Wedding dates are jokingly suggested. Melody offers nursery decorating advice “for when the time comes.”

Through it all, Hunter’s hand remains firmly clasped with mine on top of the table, and he lazily traces patterns against my skin with his thumb. The small, intimate gesture speaksvolumes, tells me this is real, this is lasting, this is just the beginning.

As I look around the table at my family, at the brothers who have always supported me and the women who have become sisters in every way that matters, I feel a sense of homecoming unlike anything I’ve experienced before. This is where I belong. Not in a sterile Houston high-rise, but here, with these people. With Hunter.

Later, as Hunter drives us back to his cabin, the future we’ve only begun to imagine stretches before us like the Wyoming sky, vast, beautiful, and full of promise.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

I smile as I watch the familiar landscape rush past the window.

“I’m thinking that I need to call my boss tomorrow. And my landlord in Houston.”

Hunter’s answering smile is slow and satisfied.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It means I’m coming home,” I say simply. “For good.”

His hand tightens on my leg, possessive and tender all at once. “I like the sound of that.”

As we pull up to his cabin, which is our cabin now, I suppose, I realize that sometimes the most unexpected detours lead exactly where you’re meant to be. A near-fall from a cliff, a rescue, a stolen kiss, and suddenly my carefully planned life has transformed into something infinitely more beautiful.

Hunter helps me from the truck and pulls me against him for a kiss that promises forever.

And as I loop my arms around his neck, I know with absolute certainty that this is just the beginning of our story.

THE END

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