Page 74 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

THREE MONTHS LATER

Willow stood just beyond view, tucked behind a makeshift screen made from trellises and vines, the olive trees rustling in the distance like a chorus of angels. She had come to this ranch all those months ago, hoping for a paycheck and a safe place to lay her head at night, if only for a while. But what she found encompassed so much more—love, a home, and a future filled with promises and hope.

Her dress was simple—ivory lace, vintage-cut, and embellished with tulle. A dream. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers, bright flecks of yellow, white, and green, that trembled slightly in her hands. Maybe from nerves. Mostly from awe.

Her mother sat on the aisle, her silver hair swept up and held with an abalone-shell clip. A light cardigan hung across her shoulders despite the warmth. Her caregiver, a kind woman named Marisol, sat beside her, chatting with other guests. Ruthie looked steady, present, and happy. She turned a look over her shoulder and waved her handkerchief at Willow, her smile big, proud.

When Willow had asked her mother if she wanted to live on the ranch, Ruthie had said yes with a kind of astonishment, as if she still didn’t fully believe she’d been given a second chance.

Neither did Willow, some days.

“You ready?” Bella appeared beside her, beaming and beautiful in a dusty blue dress that matched the sky. “Because I am not emotionally prepared to watch you walk down that aisle looking like a poem.”

Willow laughed, her eyes stinging. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning.” Bella looped her arm through Willow’s. “Kit's got tissues. Rafael’s already cried twice, and your groom keeps pacing by the arbor like he’s trying not to bolt—which, let’s be honest, is on brand.”

Willow peeked around the corner. Chance stood in front of the arbor, talking quietly with his two brothers. It was still strange seeing them all in one place—Caleb in his crisp fire dress blues, and Micah in a rumpled blazer and tortoiseshell glasses. One smelled faintly of smoke, the other of book pages and coffee.

They had flown in months earlier for Ace’s memorial but hadn’t lingered long. Grief had scattered them like leaves in a hard wind. This time, they’d flown in early, had spent time on the old ranch, observing the changes. Mainly, though, they’d come back to stand beside their brother.

Micah clapped Chance on the back and said something that made him laugh—a deep, real laugh that traveled all the way to where Willow stood.

Her heart caught.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

Bella gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. “I’ll say you are.” She stepped down the aisle and took her place at the front. The music started—guitar and fiddle, light and lilting—and Willow stepped onto the rose-strewn path.

She barely noticed the crowd, though familiar faces filled every row. Ranch hands in pressed shirts and cleaned-up boots. Neighbors, friends. Rafael beaming at the front, blinking hard with a grin bigger than she’d ever seen.

But all Willow saw was Chance.

He stood straighter when he saw her, his eyes bright and wide and just a little stunned. He didn’t fidget now. He didn’t pace. He just waited.

And when she reached him, he took her hands in his, steady and warm, and the rest of the world went quiet.

The ceremony was short and heartfelt, with words from the heart and scripture to seal their vows. Rafael, officiating with a tie slightly crooked and a prayer card in his front pocket, spoke of love that digs deep and chooses again every morning. He spoke of roots. Of olive trees. Of Ace.

“We miss him today,” Rafael said, voice low but clear. “But he’s here. In the land. In the legacy. In the strength of the man Chance has become.”

Chance’s eyes glistened. Willow squeezed his hand.

Micah stepped forward to read a blessing. Caleb followed with a few quiet words about family, service, and how his little brother somehow ended up in charge of more than just livestock.

And then, they spoke their vows.

“I don’t want just the parts you think are safe to give,” Chance said, “I want all of you. Every truth, every joy, every scar.”

Willow’s voice trembled when she answered. “You never asked me to be anything I’m not. And I’ve never felt safer than I do with you.”

After the rings were exchanged, Rafael said, “By the power vested in me by the State of California—and because Bella said I had to—I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Cheers rose like thunder. Willow barely heard them.

Chance pulled her close, kissed her in that slow, reverent way that said home wasn’t a place—it was a person. And he’d found his.

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