Page 45 of Special Delivery Cowboy
"Your old ones are held together with duct tape and prayers. I noticed." I'd watched him try to make them last through one more winter, his hands red with cold when he came in for lunch. "They're the good kind. Waterproof liner, reinforced palms. The guy at the store said these are the best."
He tried one on, flexing his fingers. The leather moved smoothly, already broken in enough to work in. "They're perfect. Thank you."
"There's more. Don't get all emotional yet."
The second box made him laugh—a deep, surprised sound that made Twinkle's ears perk up. Inside was a black Stetson, the felt still crisp and new.
"Figured you could use a backup," I said. Then added with a grin I didn't even try to hide, "Also figured I might borrow it sometime. For... reasons."
His eyes heated. "Reasons."
"Purely practical reasons involving significantly less clothing than I'm currently wearing. Possibly just the hat. And boots."
"Tell me more about these reasons."
"Open your last present first, cowboy."
His hand slid up my thigh, warm through the thin fabric of my lounge pants. "Or we could skip to the reasons part."
"TJ."
"Fine." But he was grinning, that dimple showing in his left cheek. "One more?"
"One more."
The third box was flat and rectangular. He opened it slower this time, and I watched his expression shift when he saw what was inside.
A framed photo—the three of us from last summer. TJ and me sitting on the front porch steps, Twinkle sprawled between us, all of us grinning at the camera like we didn't have a care in the world. Melody had taken it during one of her visits, claimed it was "the most disgustingly cute thing she'd ever witnessed" before demanding copies for herself. She'd also told me if TJ didn't propose soon, she was going to do it for him.
TJ stared at it for a long moment. A muscle jumped in his cheek.
"Hey." I touched his arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah." His voice came out rougher than usual. He cleared his throat. "Just... a year ago I was alone. Now I've got you. And her." He gestured to Twinkle, who'd rolled onto her back, paws in the air. "And this life I didn't know I could have. This house full of family and laughter and—" He stopped. "Sorry. Getting sentimental."
"Don't apologize." I leaned in, touching my forehead to his. "I know exactly what you mean."
Because I did. A year ago I'd been heartbroken and lost, trying to figure out who I was without Grayson. Now I was here—with a man who looked at me like I'd hung the moon, doing a job I loved at the dental practice in Livingston, living in this beautiful house with a golden retriever who thought she was people.
"I love you," TJ said quietly, cupping my face in both hands. His palms were warm, callused from ranch work. "Just wanted to make sure you knew that."
"I know." I kissed him softly. "I love you too."
He set the frame down on the side table—carefully, like it mattered—then stood. "Your turn. Be right back."
He disappeared upstairs while I tried to get myself together. Twinkle rolled over and army-crawled closer, resting her chin on my foot. Comfort gesture. Smart dog knew when feelings were happening.
TJ returned with three wrapped boxes and set them on the coffee table with a grin that told me he was way too pleased with himself.
"Okay. This one first."
I tore into the wrapping paper—too impatient for his careful unwrapping method—and gasped when I saw what was inside. Riding boots. Not just any riding boots—tall, gorgeous leather ones that must have cost a small fortune, the kind I'd been eyeing at the tack shop but couldn't justify buying when I was still learning.
"TJ, these are too expensive—"
"You've been learning to ride. You need proper boots." He was definitely grinning now. "Try them on."
I pulled them on, standing to settle my feet properly. They fit like they'd been made for me, butter-soft leather hugging my calves, low heel perfect for stirrups. I took a few steps, the leather flexing smoothly.
