EPILOGUE
Charlie
A month later the mirror behind the bar was new, the ceiling fan ran without sounding like it was dying, and I was no longer living in the small apartment above the bar.
I hadn’t officially moved in with Colt, but I spent every night at his cabin since that very first night.
And I’d hired two new employees. A bartender and waitress so I could go home before closing.
I had also met Colt’s entire family. His father and mother and wives of two of the brothers. That had been an experience I was still processing.
Sally McAllister — Landry’s wife — was quietly formidable in the way of women who didn’t need to announce themselves.
She’d looked me over once, asked me two questions about the bar, and apparently decided I was acceptable, because she’d put food on my plate without asking and told Landry to stop hogging the bread.
Arabella — Sutton’s Arabella — had talked for approximately forty-five minutes without stopping and had somehow made me feel completely at home by the end of it.
She had opinions about everything and delivered them with such cheerful certainty that disagreeing felt less like conflict and more like sport.
Ridge had said nothing. Dane had passed the potatoes. Grant had grinned at me across the table in a way that said he’d been waiting for this and was pleased it was happening.
Landry had poured the wine and said welcome.
Beside Colt that night, feeling his strong arms around me, the sense of family still lingering around me, I’d thought, this was why I’d come to Montana. The bar. Colt’s family. Colt.
The bar was quiet tonight. It was Wednesday, the midweek lull with just the regulars.
I was counting down the hours until I could go home to Colt.
The bell rang above the door. I wished it was the bartender I’d hired so I could leave now. It wasn’t.
It was Colt.
Immediately, I thought something was wrong. I searched him for signs of obvious injuries. Even though he spent several days a week at the bar now, this wasn’t one of his usual days.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, looking up from wiping down the bar.
He didn’t say anything, just came behind the bar and lifted me onto the counter.
“Colt?”
“I love you,” he said.
No lead-up. Just that, sharp and certain, the way he said everything that mattered.
“Colt—”
He kissed me before I could finish the sentence. Long and thorough, the way he did everything. The bar had gone silent, but I didn’t care.
“Okay,” I said when he pulled back, sounding slightly wrecked. Because I was. This big mountain man had finally told me he loved me. “Good. Because I love you too and I was about to have to say it first, which would have been annoying.”
That rare, devilish grin appeared on his mouth, and I wanted to kiss him again. “Were you.”
“I had a whole speech.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“You’ve forfeited the right.”
He leaned forward until his mouth was on the shell of my ear, the warmth of his breath making me shiver. “Oh, I think I can make you talk, Charlie. Later. Tonight, with my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours.”
Then he was kissing me again. I let the world flow past us, the sounds of the bar returning to normal as they took in the new norm.
Colt and Charlie sitting on a bar, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.
This was my world now.
Living in a small town where everyone knew your business. Running a taproom that had seen better days but provided a place for people to come and unwind without judgment. And a man I loved more than I could ever possibly tell him.
And I thought about the leaking ceiling. The jukebox that ate quarters.
I thought about the bet.
The bet that, though I’d technically lost, I’d actually won.
Because going to bed with the lumberjack was what I’d always wanted.