Epilogue
LUCKIER THAN A TWO-PECKERED GOAT
Shelby
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Archie leans in and whispers from his spot beside me.
“But I’m a little relieved you guys aren’t dressed like one of Momma’s bodice-ripper romance covers.”
I look down at my simple silk A-line dress with its killer slit up the left thigh and bite back a laugh.
No heaving bosoms in sight. “You mean my dress isn’t giving you Ravished and Returned: The Mistaken Mail-Order Bride vibes right now?
” I ask with feigned surprise. When he rolls his eyes, I add, “I don’t think any of the Gambles would appreciate Dallas’s nipples on display during the actual ceremony. ”
We’re standing behind a small copse of trees by the river, a late autumn breeze catching our matching copper-toned hair as we wait for our cue.
I couldn’t have planned a more perfect day to marry my best friend.
The sun is out, the air is cool, the birds are providing a sweet soundtrack, and my groom is waiting by the riverbank for me.
“Point taken,” my brother replies before extending his bent arm for me to take. “Well, you look beautiful, sis. Momma and Daddy are smiling like crazy watching us right now.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to cry today. Instead, I nod and go on tiptoes to kiss Archie’s cheek. “I know.” I’ll always have their rings on my finger and their love in my heart. Forever.
It turns out that after years of dreaming and planning my big fantasy wedding, I found I didn’t need any of it in the end.
As the person who knows me best, Dallas, of course, offered to help make all my dreams come true for the big day.
I thought about it, and we even sat down at the kitchen table together with all my vision boards to start planning.
But sitting across from Dallas, with his sleeves pushed up and his carpenter pencil ready to take notes, my dream shifted—just like that. The most elaborate, over-the-top, fantasy wedding paled in comparison to the reality of spending the rest of my life with Dallas.
Who needs aerialists serving champagne or a flower-crown-making station when we have all the love anyone could ever hope for?
Besides, I figured out pretty quickly that planning a wedding with a Gamble would take more patience than I probably have.
Dallas not only refused to believe a cummerbund wasn’t a baked good, but the concept of a tablescape was way beyond anything he was willing or able to process.
So, with no big wedding to plan or vendors to book, we decided not to wait a second longer than we had to before we could officially belong to one another.
Dallas has been working overtime to get me pregnant too, and Meemaw declared we’d been “shacking up” long enough, and she was sick of telling her friend Phyllis to mind her own damn business about it.
When the first few chords of “My Best Friend” by Tim McGraw come from Houston’s guitar, my heart rate jumps with anticipation, and my hand tightens on Archie’s arm.
“You ready?” he asks.
I’m smiling too hard to answer, so I nod instead, and then we’re off. We round the copse of trees to see the small crowd standing to either side of a makeshift aisle. It’s an intimate gathering—just family and close friends—but as soon as my eyes catch on Dallas, there’s no one else here.
He stands by the river where we’ve spent more afternoons than I could ever count, his stance firm, boots rooted to the ground. My rock. My everything. I probably shouldn’t be surprised by the tears in his eyes because I’m fighting back my own, but I don’t want anything to get in the way of my view.
My groom is hot as hell in a pearl-snap dress shirt and black suede blazer, his hair held in place by a sleek Stetson and his tanned cheeks lifted by the broad smile he’s aiming right at me.
The same smile that had my stomach flipping the day I met him on the street outside my momma and daddy’s house over twenty-five years ago.
It’s only when Ryder stage-whispers, “I didn’t know she was gonna dress like a princess,” that my attention wavers from my groom. I glance down to see Ryder dressed like a mini-Dallas, standing right next to his dad.
Everyone laughs, including me. Dallas’s gaze locks with mine again, though, while he replies, “The prettiest one in all the land, kiddo.”
Frankie “awws,” and Pops coughs like he’s fighting his own tears while Archie and I finally reach the front of the aisle.
Josie Mae takes my bouquet of classic white roses with their turquoise ribbon, and then my hands are secure in Dallas’s, his warm grip firm, telling me without words that he’ll never let me go.
Houston strums a couple strangely off-key chords to finish the song, and I force my eyes from Dallas to meet Ryder’s. “Hey, Little G. You look super handsome.” He stands up a little straighter at my words, and I smile at him until Dallas clears his throat and says, “Um, I’m right here.”
Laughter fills the air again, just as Dallas intended.
“Here we go,” Houston mutters, but there’s no heat in his tone.
I glance his way and shoot him a wink. How he still manages to be so good-looking with that ridiculous hair and mustache is one of the universe’s great mysteries.
I guess being my soon-to-be husband’s twin might have something to do with it, though.
He’s been home for a few weeks now, surprising all of us by not bolting back to the rodeo as soon as the crisis mode abated at the ranch and Ridge settled down.
The Gambles are still in negotiations with Tiffany Grace and her lawyer, but things have been relatively quiet overall.
Nobody has had the nerve to ask Houston when he’s going back on the road, probably because we’d all rather he stay—even if he’s been giving Ridge a run for his money in the competition for Big Knob’s biggest grump.
Meanwhile, Skye is determined to save the family just like she saves every down-on-its-luck animal in the county, and she’s even roped Josie Mae into her scheme. I’m betting on the two of them to show up the menfolk and kick some ass while they’re at it.
It’s hard to believe that in a few short minutes, I’ll officially be a Gamble, even though they’ve all made me feel like one for years. I grin at Dallas, and he surprises me by yanking me into his arms and laying a hot one on me.
The crowd whoops, and the minister clears his throat while I pretend I’m trying to push Dallas away even though I’m not. It’s way too easy to get lost in his kiss. When he does pull back, he whispers for only me to hear, “Hey, Sweetness. Sorry it took me so long.”
My eyes flit over his features, each one as familiar to me as my own, as I catch my breath and inhale his captivating warm scent. I pause a beat, committing this moment to memory so I can hold on to it forever. And then I whisper right back, “Ditto.”
Dallas
The second I release my wife from our first kiss and turn to walk down the aisle, two bright blue butterflies crash our wedding and take a fluttering trip down the aisle, leading the way. Shelby and I turn to look at each other with wide eyes and matching grins.
We’ve been reading Shoed and Screwed by the Farrier, where both main characters have lost their parents.
They keep seeing butterflies as they fall in love, which they believe represent their parents’ approval of the match.
If that isn’t a sign from above that Shelby’s parents and my momma are celebrating with us, I don’t know what is.
We race down the aisle while everyone throws flower petals at us, both of us too giddy to keep a calm pace.
The reception starts instantly, a potluck with everyone bringing their signature dish.
Skye puts a playlist on the speakers set up around the makeshift dance floor she’s been cultivating since the moment we announced our fake engagement.
As badly as I want to dance with my wife and get those curves under my palms, I want to feed her first. No low blood sugar to ruin our big day. Not on my watch.
“Sit and eat, Sweetness. I’ll get you a plate.
” I hold a chair while she gets settled.
I pause to kiss her before getting her food from the line.
Someone lets out a wolf whistle, so I take the hat off my head and shield us from these annoying family members of ours.
I nibble on her bottom lip. “Think we could sneak off and make out in the field?”
Shelby slides her fingers through the back of my hair, and it feels so good I shiver. “I wish we could, but I guarantee we’d see Meemaw out there with her weed. Might put a damper on things.”
I cringe. “You’re probably right.”
Straightening up, I put my hat back on. Sure enough, Meemaw is nowhere to be seen.
She’s either getting high or checking on her chickens.
I make quick work of making up two plates and rush back to Shelby.
We dig in best we can while holding hands and sneaking kisses every few minutes.
The sun sets in the west as we all eat, a giant fireball as it sinks into the land that’s been in my family for generations.
I can’t believe I ever thought playing the field and remaining a bachelor was the best way to live life.
Shelby and our little family are just about all I can think of these days.
Which is why seeing Ridge in such a bad state about his divorce is hard.
I want all my siblings to be as happy and in love as I am.
Frankie winks at me from another table set up by the river, where she and Pops have their eye on Ryder for me.
I give her a salute with my champagne glass.
She gets it. Her and Morgan are a match made in heaven.
“Think you should go talk to him?” Shelby nudges me. She tips her head toward Ridge, where he’s standing by himself next to the river, looking like he wants to jump into the brisk water and never get back out.
I put my arm around Shelby and bury my nose in her curls. “Nah. I’m too happy right now to deal with his grumpy ass.”
Shelby grabs my lapel and turns me halfway around. “Good, because you might need to deal with this little situation.”
She’s referring to Houston and Josie Mae.
My twin is reaching for another glass of champagne at the makeshift bar set up by the food table, and his old girlfriend from high school is making a beeline to confront him.
Josie Mae’s long black hair is flowing behind her in the soft wind, but her expression doesn’t look so serene.
We’ve managed to keep those two separated since Houston’s been back, but it looks like our wedding is going to be the site of World War III.
We both hop to our feet and head over in their direction in time to hear the opening remarks.
“You keep flexing your hand. Did you hurt it or something?” Josie Mae asks, gesturing to Houston’s right hand.
I frown. Did Houston get hurt at the rodeo and not tell me? He sets the champagne bottle down with a clank.
“What’s it to you, Jo?” His words are a little fuzzy around the edges, telling me he’s been dipping into the champagne more than I thought—or he and Ridge are sharing a flask.
Josie Mae crosses her arms over her chest, looking quite lovely in a pale teal ankle-length dress.
I know she and Shelby went shopping in Hornville to get that dress, only because Shelby went on and on about how envious she is of Jo’s slender waist. I had to tell her like ten times that I much prefer her buffet of curves.
Actually, I quit telling her and took her to bed to show her.
Sometimes my body speaks better than my mouth, if I do say so myself.
“It matters because if my ears have to hear one more wrong note out of you, they might start bleeding,” Josie Mae tosses back, clearly irritated with Houston.
Shelby moves to her side and whispers something in her ear. I take up Houston’s side and try to steer him over to Ridge. Maybe they can relationship trauma-bond or something over by the river. Away from me and Shelby.
Houston pushes me off of him, a strand of his shoulder-length hair falling loose from the leather strap he keeps it tied back with. Still gives me a double-take that he grew his hair out. Not sure which is worse: the long hair or the ’70s porn stache.
“I play better than you ever will,” Houston responds with the maturity level of my son. And just a bit louder than is necessary. Heads are starting to turn.
Jo gasps. “You know that’s not fair. I took lessons for years. Not my fault you have some sort of supernatural ability that other humans don’t.” She shakes her head and looks at Shelby. “He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.”
I grab Houston’s arm, but he spins out of my grasp to confront Josie Mae. “You’re about as useful as tits on a bull.”
Josie Mae gasps. I step in front of Houston and push him backward. Enough is enough. He lets me move him, lifting his chin to give me the stink eye, but at least we’re walking away.
I hear Shelby muttering behind me, holding back laughter. “We’re one ‘bless your heart’ away from bloodshed.”
Pops joins us, and I point to my two brothers and lift an eyebrow.
He gets the message and engages them in conversation.
I sneak away at the earliest opportunity and snag my wife’s hand to pull her out onto the dance floor.
Putting two fingers in my mouth, I whistle in Skye’s direction.
Her head pops up, and it only takes her a second to get my meaning.
The song blaring from the speaker changes to “We Danced.”
Shelby’s head tips back, a knowing smile on her lips.
Her body melts into mine while I wrap my arms around her.
The Oklahoma sky is painted in a kaleidoscope of colors, turning acres of plain dirt into a legacy where love can blossom and root down deep.
There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, dancing with my girl under the darkening sky, just like her parents used to in the kitchen all those years ago.
We took the long route to get here, but we finally made it.
As a wedding present, I finally took the napkin engagement pact out of my wallet and had it framed. It now sits proudly on the wall in our bedroom, a promise fulfilled.
I lean down and pluck a kiss from her lips, wondering if our babies will have her blue eyes or my cleft chin. Her copper highlights or my sun-kissed strands. Her curves or my muscles. Whatever they look like, I hope to God they have her brain, my family heritage, and our combined heart.
“I love you, Shelby Gamble,” I whisper against her lips.
I feel her grin. “About bucking time, cowboy.”