Page 71 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I turn to see Carly standing in the doorway, wrapped in a robe, her hair tousled from sleep.
“Just enjoying the quiet,” I say, making room for her on the swing. “Did I wake you?”
“The bed gets cold without you.” She sits beside me, curling her legs underneath her and leaning against my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close.
“Big day today,” she says, taking a sip from my coffee cup.
“The biggest,” I agree, feeling the small velvet box in my pocket press against my thigh. It’s been there for a week, waiting for the right moment.
Today marks exactly one year since I came back to the ranch, since I chose this life over everything I thought I wanted. One year since I made the best decision of my life.
“Bradley’s so excited to celebrate your ‘ranchiversary’,” she says with a small laugh. “He’s been working on a card for days.”
My heart swells at the thought. That kid. In some ways, it feels like he’s always been mine.
“Perfect,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
We sit in comfortable silence as the sky gradually lightens. Pinks and oranges streak across the horizon, painting the landscape in warm hues. A year ago, I would have missed this, too busy checking emails or preparing for meetings.
“I need to get Bradley up for school,” Carly says eventually, reluctantly pulling away.
“I’ll start breakfast,” I offer. “Pancakes?”
“Um, sure. But you’re going to spoil him.”
“That’s the plan,” I repeat with a grin.
She kisses me before heading back inside, and I linger on the porch for another moment, savoring the sunrise. Then I follow her in, rolling up my sleeves as I head to the kitchen.
By the time Bradley thunders down the stairs, I’ve got a stack of pancakes waiting and bacon sizzling in the pan.
“Morning, champ,” I say as he slides into his chair at the table.
“Morning!” he chirps, already reaching for the syrup. At eight years old, he’s all energy and appetite. “Mom says we’re having a special dinner tonight.”
“That’s right,” I say, flipping more pancakes. “One year since I came back to stay.”
“Best day ever,” he declares with the certainty only a child can muster, and my chest tightens with emotion.
Carly joins us, dressed for the day in jeans and one of my old button-ups that she’s claimed as her own. As we eat, Bradley chatters about his first week back at school and the science project he’s working on — something about local ecosystems that he’s passionate about.
“…and then we’re going to put it all on a big poster board with pictures of all the animals that live here,” he explains between bites.
“Sounds impressive,” I tell him. “Need any help with it?”
His face lights up. “Can we take pictures of the horses and goats this weekend?”
“Absolutely.”
After breakfast, we pile into my truck — the same one I bought when I first came to Miralena, now with a year’s worth of dirt and memories accumulated. The drive to Bradley’s school takes less than ten minutes, with lots of winding through the small town that now feels more familiar than Houston ever did.
“Don’t forget,” Carly reminds him as he hops out, backpack in tow. “Ferris is picking you up today.”
“I know, Mom!” he calls back, already running toward a group of friends.
We watch until he disappears inside the building, and then I take Carly’s hand as I pull back onto the road.
