Page 23 of Frosty in Flannel
“Thank God.” My arms tightened around her, the smell of her hair filling my lungs until I could almost believe I’d finally found a place to breathe.
For a long second neither of us moved. I felt the tremor in my hands, the hard knot in my throat. I’d spent years being a man who never asked, never hoped, never held on.
And now here she was. In my arms. The very thing I needed.
I pulled back enough to look at her, to see that stubborn light in her eyes that had undone me from day one. I kissed her again—slow, deep, nothing frantic this time. Just a promise sealed with my mouth on hers.
I’d found home.
It wasn’t the ranch.
It wasn’t the horses.
It was her.
EPILOGUE
Libby
A few weeks later…
The coffee was still hot when I carried two mugs out to the porch, steam curling up into the cool morning air. Fall was in full force in Montana, painting the mountains in shades of gold and crimson, and the early mornings had that crisp bite that made you want to stay in bed.
Or would, if the man in your bed didn’t have the internal clock of a drill sergeant.
Beckett was already up, leaning against the porch rail in jeans and a flannel shirt, watching the sun rise over the pasture. Wildfire was visible in the distance, out of his pen and grazing peacefully alongside two other horses we’d been working with.
“You’re up early,” I said, handing him a mug.
“Couldn’t sleep.” But he smiled when he said it, pulling me against his side with his free arm. “Kept thinking about today.”
Today. Right.
Today was the day we’d been working toward. The day someone other than Beckett would ride Wildfire for the first time.
“Nervous?” I asked.
“Terrified.” He took a sip of coffee. “But also... proud. He’s come so far.”
“You both have.”
He looked down at me, and the tenderness in his eyes still made my breath catch. I still wasn’t used to the way he looked at me. Like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“We both have,” he corrected, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is.” His voice was firm. “You gave me a reason to try. To believe things could be different.”
I leaned into him, watching the sky lighten. Not so long ago, I’d been wondering if I’d made a mistake coming here. Wondering if falling for Beckett was going to break me.
Now I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
My contract had been extended—made permanent, actually. The ranch had offered me a full-time position as the lead behaviorist. Beckett and I had officially moved in together. He’d just packed up my cabin and carried everything the fifty yards to his. It felt right. Natural. Like we’d been building toward it all along.
We finished our coffee in comfortable silence, then headed down to the barn together. The other staff were already there, preparing for the day. One of the veterans who’d been working with Wildfire was already in the pen with him. He looked nervous.
“You got this,” Beckett said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Remember what we talked about. Slow and steady. He’ll let you know if it’s too much.”
