Page 49 of The Cowboy's Secret Babies

Ryder was driving with one hand, his other hand resting so comfortably on her thigh that it was like they’d always done this. As if they’d been together for years.

He couldn’t get over how it felt that way. How it really, truly felt as if there had never been any part of his life that wasn’tthis. Maybe because none of it had been as good as this, if he was honest about it. He remembered what it had been like to drive into town nearly two months ago now, filled with reluctance and apprehension but still certain that he was doing the right thing.

He wasn’t sure he could remember that version of him.

Because everything with Rosie was better than anything he might have had to leave behind. It wasn’t even a competition.

He hadn’t even seen it coming. One day he’d been marking time and hating himself for it, because the only way out of this place involved a loss he couldn’t bear to think about. The next he’d been a father of twins, and this woman—his wife, he kept reminding himself—was the center of everything.

What was funny was that he’d always thought that leaving the rodeo lifestyle would be a tough, hard, bittersweet decision.

Instead, he’d made it without a second thought, so much so that he hadn’t realized until right now that he really, truly wasn’t going back.

He wasn’t missing another moment with his boys.

And he sure as hell wasn’t missing any more time with Rosie.

Something he’d thought would be layered and complicated, something he’d expected would come with a ton of regret was, it turned out, so easy it felt like breathing.

But all he said was, “I missed them too.”

Then, as they made their way through town—noticeably quiet today, though Rosie didn’t seem to notice—and then up toward the lodge, he had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning.

He waited. When they got to the crest of the hill, Rosie frowned. She stared at the lodge that was all lit up against the sky.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are all the lights on?”

“I don’t know,” Ryder said, though he did. “I guess you better go see.”

He pulled up in front of the lodge and, once again, had a sense of being a part of that sweep of history. Of being rooted right here, right where he’d always belonged, despite how hard he’d tried to get away.

But this time, it felt the opposite of trapped. It felt like finally, he’d figured out how to be free.

He’d asked Rosie to wear her dress again today, claiming once wasn’t nearly enough. And it wasn’t a fancy ball gown, so she’d complied, though she’d made a lot of faces while she’d dressed for him, back in that hotel room in Livingston.

It had tested his resolve more than he liked to admit that he hadn’t interrupted the show.

And there was something so Montana about her, he thought now. She climbed out of his truck almost hesitantly, stopping and frowning again when she heard the sound of voices and music from inside. She was wearing her snow boots, a pair of leggings, and that pretty, pale pink dress she’d found that picked up all that strawberry in her hair and made her glow. With a stocking cap on her head, she couldn’t have looked more like a Montana man’s dream if she’d tried.

The best part was, she hadn’t tried. This was just his Rosie.

HisRosie, he thought again, letting it settle in hard. Like a brand.

He took her hand, the one where he’d put two rings yesterday. A ruby for obvious reasons, to keep with the red theme and to catch that strawberry goodness that he sometimes thought he could taste on his tongue, and a wedding band to match. He liked the feel of the ring on his finger, too. Last night, they’d sat in bed eating salty things, talking about how strange it was to wear rings at all, as neither one of them were ring people.

But he intended to wear her ring until he died.

Hopefully a long time from now.

“What on earth…?” she was asking as they made it to the front door, where the noise was even louder.

But he didn’t answer her. He drew her with him, pulling her inside the lodge and directly into the grand old lobby.

It wasn’t entirely restored. It was rustic all around the edges, but this afternoon they’d transformed it into something magical.

There were lights strung everywhere. There was a long table piled high with food, because folks around here took their potluck dishes seriously. Some of the local musicians were playing over to one side, and everyone they knew was here.

The whole town had turned out. Ryder and Jack had planned the whole thing, but it was only by the cooperation of the Stark brothers and the Carey brothers—and, no doubt, Belinda’s eagle eye and flair for the dramatic—that the old place that most thought was falling down looked, instead, like a fairy tale.

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