Page 66 of Saddle and Bound

[Cowboy Stallions ????]

Chris: ?? HEADS UP! Our wandering cowboy has returned from his "camping trip"! Bet he mastered some new tent-pitching techniques! ?????

Diego: The prodigal son returns! So Alex, did you show Rosie the true meaning of Western riding? ????

Fran: Ten bucks says they explored more than just the trails! ????

Me: You're all depraved. It was just camping.

Diego: Sure it was... ??

Chris: Alex "Romeo of the Range" rides again! ????

Fran: All hail the Prairie Charmer! ????

Me: Nothing happened. Period.

Diego: And I'm a virgin! ??

Chris: Was it your campfire skills that sealed the deal? ????

Me: You're insufferable. It was a simple trip.

Fran: Coming soon: "The Art of Ranch Romance" by Alex - Chapter One: Starlight Seduction ??

Me: I'm disowning all of you. Permanently. ??

Chris: Not getting off that easy, cowboy! Spill the juicy details!

Diego: Or should we say... the wild details? ????

Fran: A-L-E-X and R-O-S-I-E sitting in a tree...

Me: I need new friends. Immediately. ??

The floorboards creak beneath my boots as I enter my room in the main house, my backpack landing with a weary thud that seems to echo my exhaustion. The air hangs still and heavy, like a forgotten memory waiting to be disturbed. Everything looks exactly as I left it, yet somehow different – as if the room itself has become a stranger during my absence. Or perhaps I'm the one who's changed.

The thought of my neglected cabin suddenly strikes me with unexpected clarity. Before the camping trip, I'd dismissed it as an unnecessary project, content with my comfortable corner in the main house's B&B. But now... now the idea of creating my own sanctuary feels less like a whim and more like a necessity. And maybe, in some secret corner of my heart, I'm already imagining it as a place where Rosie might someday feel at home...

The drive back had revealed subtle shifts in her demeanor – changes she tried to conceal but couldn't quite hide from someone who's learned to read the subtle language of her expressions. I'd done my best to keep things light, filling the air with terrible renditions of country classics and ranch stories, but beneath our laughter lay a current of unspoken words and unanswered questions.

The moment we pulled into the ranch still haunts me – the way she sat frozen in the pickup, her gaze fixed on some distant point only she could see, looking so lost it physically ached to witness. Every fiber of my being wanted to reach out, to pull her close and promise that whatever storm was brewing in her mind, we'd weather it together. But I held back, afraid that pushing too hard might only make her retreat further.

Sinking onto the edge of my bed, I run my fingers through my hair, trying to sort through the tangle of thoughts in my head. I understand the weight of what Rosie's facing – her established life in Los Angeles, her rekindled passion for writing, the crossroads she's found herself at. The last thing I want is to become another pressure point in her already complicated equation.

Yet I can't bear the thought of her tormenting herself over me, over us. I need her to know that my presence in her life isn't conditional, that whatever path she chooses, I'll be standing firmly in her corner. I tried to convey this during our meandering conversations under the stars, but words have never been my strong suit, and some messages are too important to leave to interpretation.

When I think back to our time together – the way her eyes would soften when they met mine, those precious moments of vulnerability we shared – I know in my bones that what's growing between us is real. The depth and nature of her feelings might be a mystery, but their existence is as certain as the sun rising over the ranch each morning.

Rising from the bed, I move to the window, where the ranch sprawls out before me, bathed in silvery moonlight. Everything looks exactly the same as it always has, yet somehow the familiar landscape seems filled with new possibility. I feel different, as if the past few days have shifted something fundamental within me.

A decision crystallizes in my mind. Tomorrow, I'll begin work on the cabin. I'll create a space that's truly mine, a place for reflection and dreams, and perhaps... perhaps someday, a home to share. For now, though, I'll practice the hardest kind of love – the kind that gives space while remaining steadfast, that speaks through actions rather than words, that waits patiently while hearts find their way home.

[Cowboy Stallions ????]

Chris: Alert the media! Our wilderness explorer has emerged from the wild! ?? Rusty Spur celebration is NON-NEGOTIABLE!

Diego: @Alex don't even think about weaseling out... ????

---