Page 52 of The Cowboy's Best Friend

“I’ve always been sure about what I want,” he reminded her. “Any way I could have you, that’s what I was going to do. That’s what I did.”

She was still kneeling down with him and at this, she kissed him all over his face.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, fiercely, punctuating each word with another kiss. “I promise you, I will make up for all of this time—”

“You don’t have to make up for anything,” Boone told her, kissing her back. “It seems to me that whether we want to admit it or not, we’ve been having a relationship all along. That means we get to start the rest of our life with that as a foundation, and that’s no small thing. Being best friends with you is the best relationship I’ve ever had, Sierra. I thought it was the only relationship I was ever going to have, and I was okay with that. Now we get to make this thing we have—this thing we’ve always had—even better. There’s nothing to make up for. There’s only a big, bright future that’s ours for the taking.”

“Now we get to be all the things we want to be for each other,” she said, with that heartbreakingly beautiful smile so huge on her pretty face, and her hands tight in his. “You and me, forever.”

They decided that Labor Day was an excellent day to get married—if a bit too far away for their tastes at just over two weeks. Because neither one of them saw any point in waiting any longer. And they decided that they do it here, right there on what would be their land, now. Out on that rock, where their families could watch from solid ground, then they could throw a little party, too.

Simple and swift, and then it would be done. They’d be headfirst into their happy ever after.

Boone told his parents himself. Not at Sunday dinner, where there would be far too much commotion. “Sierra and I getting married,” he told, finding them in the kitchen that same night, when everyone was home after another wild day in the always-crowded market. “On Labor Day, because there’s no point waiting.”

“Damn right there’s not,” Zeke agreed.

Belinda burst into tears, flung her arms around him, and then smacked him for good measure. “Took you long enough,” she said.

He expected that kind of reaction from his brothers, too, but instead, they were all pleased when he dropped that bomb on Sunday. More than pleased.

They all cheered, then hugged Sierra and told her that really, she’d been their sister all along.

Life was pretty good.

Especially when, as the dog days of August rolled in, he moved Sierra into his actual house. Then laid her out in the bed that they’d be sharing for the rest of their lives, and marked exactly how lucky was all over her perfectly lush body.

The next morning, he kissed her just awake enough to tell her that he was going down to the cows, so she could mutter curses into the pillow and then perk up a little when she smelled the coffee he brought in and placed on her bedside table.

He liked having her here, in his bed. In this house he’d built himself—and had known, deep down, that he was building for her.

Now it was theirs.

Now everything was the way it was supposed to be.

Outside, it was a deep blue morning and Boone breathed in deep, because he was going to marry the love of his life in a few days. Everything seemed to fall into place around that fact—including all the watching mountains.

Because when all was said and done, Boone was a patient man.

He arranged his life around three fundamental principles, though this summer had allowed him to see if there was a little wiggle room for that was concerned.

It was the spirit of the principle that counted, in the end.

Because maybe life wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, but that didn’t mean a little comfort didn’t go a long way.

A man’s word was his worth and he intended to prove it, by keeping his vows to Sierra. He couldn’t wait to promise her everything. He couldn’t wait to show her exactly how well and how deeply she could trust him, come what might.

He still believed honesty was the best policy—but he also understood where his father was coming from. The man was all about family. Who could blame him for stepping in and moving things along? It wasn’t as if any of them had chosen badly yet—though the remaining Carey was a wild card.

His third and final principle remained an immovable fact. It was a simple thing, and the past couple of months had made it feel less like a mountain and more like the sunlight that danced over the mountains here and made them look like spun gold. It had been true forever and would stay true forevermore.

It was this—as it had always been this: He had been irreversibly in love with his best friend Sierra Tate since the moment he’d laid eyes on her in the seventh grade and would be until the day he died. The end.

And the best part was, now she loved him back. Maybe she always had, but now there was no doubt. Now she was going to wear his ring, take his name, and build a life with him.

These were the things that made him who he was.

These were the things he would teach his own sons and daughters, hopefully soon.

---