Epilogue
Carl
One year later.
The sun cut a bright, warm path straight through the kitchen windows of the cottage. I leaned my hip against the counter, nursing a mug of black coffee while I watched my wife tear through the living room.
It wasn’t a big house, but it was ours.
The space near the front door was a permanent, chaotic collision of our two lives. My mud-caked work boots sat right next to her neat leather ones. And my heavy barn coat was thrown over the hook right above the thick, padded camera bag she was currently checking for extra batteries.
Best of all, a scruffy, three-legged rescue terrier named Alfred was asleep on the rug, completely unbothered by Sierra’s frantic pacing.
After years of sleeping in a lumpy bunk at the logging camp, the clutter of building a real life with someone felt like a luxury I still couldn’t entirely believe was mine.
This woman had changed my life in so many ways.
I took a slow sip of my coffee, my eyes drifting to the framed photograph hanging on the wall next to the door. It wasn’t the picture of me grinning and playing to the crowd in the arena. It was the one she’d taken when my smile slipped. The moment I thought no one was looking.
Every time I looked at that photo, I felt a skip in my heart. Sierra had seen the real me before we’d ever even met.
“Do I have the 70-200mm lens?” Sierra muttered, digging deep into the side pocket of her bag.
“It’s right there on the kitchen table, sweetie,” I rumbled, watching her ass jiggle around the cottage enticingly. That woman still made my cock ache… especially when she traveled for the rodeo.
Sierra sighed in relief, grabbing the lens and securing it in the padded section of her bag.
She was still shooting rodeos on the side, but Red Oak Mountain was her permanent base now, and this cottage was home. She’d spent the last year working alongside Uncle Dalton, and somehow, my road-weary city girl had turned into the second in command of the dairy operation.
Uncle Dalton was ready to pass his farm down, and already viewed her like the daughter he’d never had. The two were as close as biscuits and gravy.
These days she traveled for a few big gigs, but she always came home to us, the cottage, and to the life we were building together.
Sierra zipped the bag shut and looked up at me, a playful smirk crossing her face. “You don’t mind watching the cows while I’m working?”
I’d taken a week off from lumberjacking to help my uncle around the farm since Sierra would be busy with the local rodeo. She was covering it for the opening week. “Yup.”
“Just remember, Bessie is a dramatic diva and a feed bucket bully. Last week she stole Daisy’s whole breakfast. And Daisy, being a total sweetheart, acted like nothing had happened. And don’t fall for Polly’s tricks. She’ll pretend she hasn’t eaten in a week the second feeding time is over.”
I chuckled, setting my empty mug in the sink. “You might love those cows more than you love me.”
“Oh, stop being jealous. You know I love you as much as I love those cows.” She laughed, grabbing her bag. “Let’s go. The rough stock riders are staging in an hour and I definitely want to get those shots.”
We stepped out onto the porch. Alfred woke up and trotted out right at our heels, his tail wagging as we headed down the driveway. The grass was still damp with heavy morning dew, soaking into the thick toes of my work boots.
A familiar sound drifted from across the yard. Polly, the massive black-and-white Holstein, was already waiting at the wooden fence line, watching us approach.
Sierra walked straight over, burying her hands in the cow’s thick neck. “Be good to Carl this week. He doesn’t know how to handle you ladies. So help out, and give him some pointers, okay?”
Polly huffed a breath in response, leaning her massive head right against my wife’s shoulder, demanding more morning scratches.
I stood by the truck, watching the two of them with a wide grin, my eyes only half-glued to my woman’s ass. She was wearing my favorite pair of jeans today. The ones she’d been wearing the first night we’d met. I had fond memories of those jeans.
Daisy sauntered over, and Sierra pulled a few apple pieces out of her pockets, sharing them with the ladies. The cows munched happily.
Sierra belonged here. She fit into the rhythm of this farm as if she’d been born on it.
And next year, after I’d saved a little more money, I planned to quit lumberjacking and start working here on the farm, too.
My uncle wasn’t quite ready to retire yet, but he was deep in his sixties, and it was time for him to get a break.
He deserved one. So we’d be taking the lead on running the place.
Part of me was sad to think of leaving the logging camp behind, but the other part of me was ready to get this party going.
Sierra had big plans for adding a new barn and increasing the size of the herd.
There was a parcel for sale next door and we’d already put an offer in to expand the acreage to accommodate a few more hungry mouths.
“Come on, Sierra,” I called out gently, leaning against the driver’s side door. “We’ve got to hit the road, or you’ll miss the opening events.”
Polly lifted her head and let out a loud, wet snort directly at me as Sierra burst out laughing. “You tell him, Polly. Don’t let the big lumberjack boss us around.”
“I’m losing my authority to the livestock,” I grumbled lightly, walking over to grab her bag from the ground where she’d dropped it.
Once we were in the truck and heading toward the fairgrounds, she bumped her knee playfully against my thigh.
“So,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You planning on flirting with half the rodeo again while I’m working out there?”
I reached over, resting my hand on her thigh. “I’ve only ever flirted with one woman at the rodeo, Sierra. And she already married me.”
She flushed, a soft, satisfied smile touching her lips as she looked out the window.
“Besides,” I added dryly, keeping my eyes on the road, “I’m going to be stuck with the camp crew all night. Not a lot of room for romance when Whitt’s around. All the ladies are ready to fall for the new lumberjack in town.”
Sierra laughed. “He doesn’t have anything on you, hon.”
“He makes a good distraction. He’ll keep the single ladies busy for a while.”
She knew that I was a blind man when it came to other women. I didn’t want anyone else’s attention. Only hers.
An hour later, the Red Oak Mountain fairgrounds opened up before us, looking exactly the same as last year. But standing by the arena fence this time felt entirely different.
I leaned against the metal railing, a cold beer in my hand, watching Sierra work. She moved through the grounds with complete confidence, her camera clicking as she captured the action. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Y’all going to the Fourth of July festival next week?” Holden asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded. Sierra had already bought us matching hats, cowboy style, of course. But done up in tacky red stripes with a row of blue stars ringing the brim. I’d begrudgingly wear mine for her, although it wasn’t my thing. That woman could get me to do anything.
Holden looked at Whitt, waiting for his answer.
Whitt’s eyes pinched down. “Naw, I don’t get into that sort of thing.” Then he changed the subject. “You know, Carl, I think you’ve found your true calling as Sierra’s errand boy.”
He sounded casual, but he looked a little restless today, his eyes scanning the packed grandstands. He’d been out of sorts lately, and I wasn’t sure why.
Holden laughed at his joke. “Yeah, Carl. You make a good personal assistant. You carry that camera bag like a pro.”
The other guys from camp chuckled, clinking their cans together.
“Laugh all you want,” I said easily, taking a slow drink of my beer. “But I’ve got the prize.”
A few minutes later, Sierra jogged over to the fence, her face flushed pink from the summer heat. She stepped right up, tucking her body against my side. I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest.
“Look at this one,” she said breathlessly, holding up the camera screen for me to see.
She pointed to the digital display, and as she moved her hand, the bright arena lights caught the diamond ring on her left hand.
The quick, sharp flash of the stone sent a fierce, solid wave of pride straight through my chest. But the thin gold band accompanying it was what really made me happy. Sierra was my perfect wife.
I didn’t even look at the photo. I looked down at her.
“It’s a great shot,” I murmured, my voice dropping low enough that the guys couldn’t hear. “How long until you’re done here, hon?”
She looked up, catching the sudden, heavy heat in my eyes. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, sliding my hand down to grip her hip, “I’m feeling a real strong need to take you back to our cottage and show you some appreciation.”
Sierra’s eyes darkened as a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “You’re going to have to wait a few hours, lumberjack. So why don’t you get yourself all revved up, then I’ll give you a ride to remember once we get home.”
That sounded like a plan I could work with.
Yee-fucking-haw.
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