Page 46 of Special Delivery Cowboy
"How do they feel?"
"Like I should be in a magazine spread for 'Cowgirl Chic.'" I turned, modeling them. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful." No hesitation, no looking away. Just pure honesty in his dark eyes. "Though you'd look beautiful in a paper sack."
"Okay, now you're just flattering me."
"Just stating facts, ma'am."
I sat back down, running my hands over the smooth leather. "They're amazing. Thank you."
"Next one."
This box was softer. I opened it to find a sweater—thick, incredibly soft cashmere in deep green. The kind of luxury I never bought for myself because rent and student loans and practical decisions. I pulled it on immediately over TJ's shirt, and it felt like being wrapped in a cloud.
"Oh my god." I pressed my face into the collar. "This is the softest thing I've ever touched. I'm never taking this off."
"Looks good on you." His voice had gone warm in that way that meant he was genuinely happy. "Matches your eyes."
"My eyes are hazel."
"They look green right now. Must be the sweater."
I looked down at the soft cashmere, touched by the thoughtfulness. He'd been paying attention—knew I was always cold in the house during winter mornings, had seen me eyeing sweaters at the boutique in town but never buying them.
"Last one," he said, handing me the third box.
A cookbook. But not just any cookbook—The Rancher's Wife: Traditional Recipes for Modern Living.I flipped through pages of hearty stews, fresh bread recipes, Sunday pot roasts, comfort food designed for feeding ranch hands and family gatherings.
"I know you've been collecting recipes," TJ said. "Thought this might help. There's a whole section on baking that looked like your kind of thing."
My vision went blurry. Because this wasn't just a cookbook. This was him seeing me as part of this life—permanently. The rancher's wife. Someone who belonged here, in this house, in this world. I remembered his hand on my knee under the table at dinner tonight, the quiet claim of it, the way he'd looked at me when Dale had made a toast about family. Like I was already his and he wanted everyone to know it.
"Hey." He tilted my chin up. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." I wiped my eyes, laughing at myself. "I'm just happy. These are all so thoughtful. You actually pay attention to what I want."
"Of course I do." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the most important person in my life. Why wouldn't I pay attention?"
God. How had I gotten so lucky?
I set the cookbook aside carefully and launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Thank you. For all of it. For seeing me."
He pulled me against him, steady and warm.
We stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other. The fire crackled. Twinkle snored. Outside, snow continued its gentle fall.
Then TJ shifted, his voice going careful. "Actually... there's one more thing."
I pulled back. "TJ, this is already too much—"
"You might want to check Twinkle's collar."
I blinked. "What?"
"Her collar. Take a look."
Twinkle sat up at the attention, wagging so hard she nearly fell over. And there, dangling from her red collar next to her name tag, was a small wrapped box I definitely hadn't noticed before.
