Page 34 of Special Delivery Cowboy
He wrapped his arms around me, and we stayed like that until the fire burned low and the movie ended, neither of us wanting to move, neither of us ready to let this perfect day end.
Tomorrow could wait.
Chapter Six
TJ
The fire had burned down to glowing embers by the timeMiracle on 34th Streetended. Tinsley's head rested on my shoulder, her weight warm and solid against my side. One of her hands lay flat over my heart, like she was checking to make sure it was still beating. Twinkle sprawled across both our laps, snoring soft little puppy snores, her paws twitching with whatever dream had her chasing rabbits or snowflakes.
Outside, the wind had finally quieted. Snow still fell past the windows, but gentle now—no howling, no rattling glass. Peaceful, almost.
I should've been running through the ranch checklist in my head. South pasture fence would need walking after two days of this wind. Generator probably needed refueling. The heifers closest to calving would need extra watching. Dad and Mom were likely wearing a path in the kitchen floor, waiting for word that I was alive.
Instead, all I could think about was the woman tucked against me and the fact that tomorrow, I'd have to leave her.
The truth settled in my gut like a stone: I'd fallen for Tinsley Pepper.
Somewhere between her calling me a stripper and watching her blend beef stew for a golden retriever pup this morning, I'd gone and fallen completely. The kind you don't climb back out of. The kind that changes everything.
Should've terrified me. We'd known each other less than forty-eight hours. You don't fall in love in two days. That's not how it works.
Except apparently, it was exactly how it worked.
This wasn't like Cassidy. My high school girlfriend had been sweet, and I'd loved her the way eighteen-year-olds love—big and uncomplicated and convinced it'll last forever. Then she'd left for California, and forever lasted about six months after that. I'd thought I'd known what heartbreak felt like.
I hadn't known a damn thing.
This—Tinsley asleep against me, Twinkle's warmth across our legs, this cabin filled with the smell of cookies and wood smoke—this felt like coming home to a place I didn't know I'd been looking for.
She fit. Into my world, into my life, into the future I'd been trying to picture for the past year since Mom and Dad started talking retirement. Could see her in the ranch house kitchen, laughing while she cooked. She'd probably try to name every single cow in the barn. And Twinkle full-grown, her and Tinsley both waiting when I came in from the fields.
I could see forever, and it looked like her.
My hand tightened on her hip without meaning to.
She shifted, lifting her head to look at me. Those hazel eyes caught the firelight, worried and vulnerable in a way that made my chest ache.
"TJ?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
