Epilogue
JULES
Two Years Later
T he steady patter of rain against canvas had acted as a lullaby in the early morning hour.
She lay there, listening contently until the drizzle seemed to dissipate.
After waiting through a moment of silence to be sure, she carefully snuck from the bedroll and tugged on her flannel jacket and beanie.
Collecting her camera bag next, she slipped on her shoes and disappeared out into the gray morning light.
All around the wild camp, mountains towered over her in dense, vibrant greenery.
She crossed the sandy fire pit before the tent and made her way to the electric-blue river they were set up on.
Argentina Patagonia was a breathtaking region, and she’d filled two memory cards in record time upon their arrival.
Kneeling down, Jules found a smooth, flat rock and plucked it between her fingers. With the perfect flick of her wrist, she skipped it across the top of the water before her. It was nice to slow down and savor a region this time around.
There was no shoot list, no one she was here working for. It was just about what she wanted to do—and what her husband wanted to do. This was their honeymoon after all.
Jules smiled down at the simple gold band on her left ring finger as she selected another rock. This one skipped two more times than the last.
“That was a good one.”
She turned at the sound of Riley’s deep, raspy, morning voice that was still scratchy from sleep.
He was devastatingly handsome, his dark golden mustache twitching in amusement as his eyes, that matched the surrounding landscape, gleamed at her.
“Good morning,” she greeted him with a kiss as he reached her and took her in his arms.
“Morning, wild thing,” Riley replied.
His own gold band was cool against her neck as he wrapped her in his embrace. She snuggled against him, peppering his jaw with kisses.
“What do you want to do with our last day here?” he asked, his lips tickling her ear.
Her hands slipped under his T-shirt, roaming his chest until they slid into the waistband of his sweatpants. “I have a few ideas,” she purred.
He smiled back, a feral glint in his eyes. “I’m getting a little too used to fucking out in the open,” he growled. “Are we going to find a way to keep this up when we’re home?”
“There’s a camp back at the ranch,” she replied, her fingers closing around his hard length. Her hand slipped up and down, pumping him right there on the riverbank.
Riley tightened his grip on the back of her neck, a strangled sigh escaping him. “You’re a bad girl, Julliette Walker. There are other tents around here. You don’t want to duck into the forest this time?”
With one hand wrapped around his cock and the other tangled in his lightning bolt necklace, she guided him against the rocky cliff face that came to the edge of the shore. His back pressed against rock, she moved her hand faster along his shaft.
“We’re already leaving today,” she replied, lifting one leg up to hitch it over his hip bone.
Riley’s hand caught under her knee, right where her high socks hit.
He held her tight to him, his fingers curling into her.
His other hand dragged between her legs, discovering that she was wearing nothing under the oversized button-down.
“Fuck Jules,” he hissed, immediately sliding his fingers into her. “You had this planned, didn’t you?”
“What’s a honeymoon with risking legal action against us for public indecency?” she asked innocently, tugging him free from his sweats and tilting her hips forwards towards him.
Without hesitation, he spun them so she was the one pressed against the cliff.
He withdrew his fingers and lined his shaft up at her entrance instead.
Raising his eyebrows, he gave her one last chance to change her mind.
She responded by dropping herself down on top of him, a soft sigh escaping her at the sweet pressure between her legs.
He crushed his mouth over hers as he thrust into her, hitching her up higher against the wall of rock for a better angle. With the adrenaline from being so exposed, it wouldn’t take long for them to come, she knew that. She had already been aroused the moment he stepped out of their tent.
Using their kiss to cover up her moans of pleasure, she wrapped her arms around him and dug her nails into his back under his cotton tee. Heat licked up her core, satisfaction numbing her senses.
This was reckless, of course. But that was the thing about Riley, he’d always have her, no matter how wild a situation she may put them in. He enjoyed being the one holding her as she ran free. And she enjoyed being held by him.
“I love you so much,” she moaned as her orgasm began to creep up on her.
“You had me at hi, Sundance ,” he grit out, his thrusts becoming less controlled. He was close too. Right there with her.
Maybe it was because he had that ability to be hyper aware of her and fully in tune. Maybe it was just because they were equally greedy for one another. Whatever the reason, she knew in her bones that this was where she belonged.
Anywhere with him.
And as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. She reached ecstasy with him as well.
Her wedding band shone in the light that poured through the airplane window. Jules smiled down at it, certain she’d never tire of the sight. Beside her, Riley lifted her other hand and laced their fingers together.
She turned to face him instead, an even better sight in her opinion.
“Ready to be home?” he asked as the plane began its taxi.
“I am very ready to be home. I miss our cabin. I miss our friends and the ranch. And I mostly miss our wild bunch.”
The Wild Bunch, their herd of wild horses at the rehabilitation center, had grown to full capacity within the first year open. And each horse was named for a member of the outlaw crew—besides the honorary member, Lucky.
First was Queen Etta. Followed closely by The Kid.
She couldn’t give up Riley’s nickname, so they had settled on an adaptation.
Next came Butch and Elzy, a pair of American Morgan Horses with shining black coats.
Then Tall Texan, a heavy built draft horse.
Rounding out the band were Flat Nose, News, and The Thorny Rose who all arrived together—giving them a full stable.
“How do you think Cooper’s been doing looking out for them while we’re gone?” Riley asked with a chuckle, buckling his seat belt as the airline attendant walked by pointing to the blinking belts on light.
“I think Coop probably fits in with that unruly bunch well.” She chuckled as she bent over to stow her camera bag under the seat in front of her. Straightening, she found her husband’s gaze settled on the leather satchel.
“You took some really amazing pictures on the trip,” he told her once she settled back into her seat. Taking her hand in his again, he trailed his lips across her fingers. “Did you change your mind about outing them in the book?”
“No, I plan to keep these ones just for us. I have plenty of other work to fill that.”
He was referring to the wild horse photography book she was publishing, an idea that developed around the time Rustic and Ranch magazine ended her contract.
It had been a truly freeing moment to know she could pursue art based on her own passion—advocacy for wild horses.
And she decided early on that some of her proceeds would go to help support those mustangs still struggling to remain truly wild back home in Wyoming.
She was still doing what she loved, this time truly on her own terms. Alongside the man she loved.
Please prepare for takeoff .
The overhead speakers crackled as the flight attendant gave his final reminders. Her heart somersaulted. She was more than prepared for takeoff.
She couldn’t wait to be home.