Epilogue
CALLIE
The Texas heat is nothing like Colorado.
In Pine Valley, summer meant cool mornings and afternoons that rarely broke ninety. Here in Iron Creek, the sun feels personal. Aggressive. Like it has a vendetta against anyone foolish enough to stand outside past nine a.m.
"Come," he says for the third time.
The dog—a two-year-old named Apollo who thinks he's smarter than his handler—sits down and yawns.
I hide my smile behind my clipboard.
"Don't laugh," Dean calls across the training yard. "He can hear you not taking this seriously."
"I'm very serious," I call back. "Professionally observing."
"You're enjoying this."
"Also true."
Apollo finally deigns to trot over to Dean, who rewards him with a treat and what looks like a muttered threat about who's really in charge here. Spoiler: it's the dog.
I turn back to the puppy I'm examining—a ten-week-old Belgian Malinois who's already showing the kind of drive that'll make him either an excellent working dog or a household menace. Possibly both.
"Looking good, Rebel," I say, finishing my notes. "You're cleared for basic training."
His handler, a quiet guy named Brock who Dean recruited from his old unit, grins. "Thanks, Doc."
Doc. Six months in Texas, and I'm still getting used to hearing that here. Not Dr. O'Connor from the base clinic or Callie from the townspeople I've known my whole life. Just Doc, from people who respect what I do without needing my entire résumé first.
The Iron Creek Veterinary facility is huge and all mine. Well, mine and Dean's, technically. But the veterinary program? The training protocols for working dog health? The partnership with the local emergency services? That's all me.
I'm not just Dean's girlfriend who followed him to Texas. I'm the reason half these dogs are certified and healthy and ready to work.
It feels good.
"Callie!" Jake's voice carries across the yard. "Stop making googly eyes at my brother and come look at this!"
I glance over to where Jake's leaning against the barn, looking far too amused for whatever he's about to say next.
"I'm working," I call back.
"You're staring."
"Professionally observing," I correct.
"Uh-huh." He pushes off the barn and strolls over, all swagger and knowing smirks.
The Mercer brothers share the same build, the same easy confidence, but where Dean's charm comes with a side of golden retriever energy, Jake's is pure cattle dog—loyal, protective, and a little bit of an asshole when the mood strikes.
"You two are disgustingly happy," he says when he reaches me. "It's unsettling."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," I reply.
"It's weird. Dean used to be fun. Reckless. Now he's talking about quarterly budgets and asking if we need to update our liability insurance."
"That's called being a responsible adult."
"It's called being boring." But he's grinning. "Though I'll admit, having an actual vet on staff is pretty convenient. Saves me from Dean's amateur hour diagnostics."
"He's not that bad."
"He once thought a dog had a fever because his nose was warm."
I laugh. "Okay, he's that bad."
Dean finishes with Apollo and heads our way, pulling off his ball cap to run a hand through his sweat-damp hair. My stomach does a stupid little flip that hasn't gotten old in six months.
"Talking about me?" he asks.
"Always," Jake says. "Callie was just telling me how she can't believe she's stuck with you."
"She loves being stuck with me."
"Debatable," I say, but I'm smiling.
Dean stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. He smells like sun and exertion and the cologne I bought him last month that he claims is "too fancy" but wears anyway.
"Got something for you," he says.
I raise an eyebrow. "Is it a dog with a behavioral issue? Because Apollo's all yours."
"Not a dog."
"Paperwork?"
"Why would I give you paperwork?"
"You gave me paperwork last week and called it romantic."
"That was a vaccination schedule," he protests. "You needed it."
Jake groans. "This is what I'm talking about. You two are the least sexy couple I've ever met."
"Feel free to leave," Dean tells him.
"I work here."
"Go work somewhere else."
Jake doesn't move. Just crosses his arms and settles in like he's watching a show.
Dean ignores him and reaches into his pocket. For a second, I think it actually is paperwork. Then he pulls out a small velvet box and my brain short-circuits.
Oh.
Oh.
"Callie O'Connor," Dean says, and his voice has that nervous edge I haven't heard since the day he showed up at my clinic with Maverick. "I've practiced this about a hundred times. Had a whole speech planned. But standing here with you, I'm realizing I don't need the speech."
"Dean—"
"I love you," he continues. "I love that you put dogs before me on your priority list. I love that you call me out when I'm being an idiot. I love that you followed me to Texas and then immediately made it yours."
My eyes are burning.
"I want to build this life with you," he says. "Not just the business or the house or the future we've been planning. I want all of it. The boring parts and the exciting parts and the parts where we argue about whether Apollo's being stubborn or just smart."
"He's being stubborn," I manage.
Dean grins. "See? We're perfect together." He opens the box, revealing a simple gold band with a single diamond that catches the Texas sun. "So will you marry me?"
I open my mouth to answer, and that's when Maverick—who's apparently been lurking nearby—lunges forward and tries to eat the ring box.
"No!" Dean yanks it back. "Bad dog! This wasn't part of the plan!"
I'm laughing and crying at the same time, which makes Dean look panicked until I throw my arms around his neck.
"Yes," I say against his mouth. "Obviously yes."
He kisses me, one hand still holding the ring box out of Maverick's reach while the other pulls me close. I taste salt—his sweat or my tears, I'm not sure which—and happiness, bright and sharp and real.
When we break apart, he's grinning like he just stuck a perfect landing.
"Can I put the ring on now before Maverick makes another play for it?"
"He's your dog."
"Our dog," Dean corrects. He takes my left hand, and I watch as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly. Of course it does.
Maverick barks, loud and approving.
Jake whistles, loud and approving from where he's still standing three feet away. "Finally! I was wondering how long you were going to wait!"
"You knew?" I call back.
"He's been carrying that ring around for two weeks," Jake says. "Kept asking me if the timing was right. I told him there's no such thing as perfect timing, just good intentions and a decent speech."
"The speech was great," I say, looking back at Dean.
"It was okay," he says modestly.
"It was perfect."
"Maverick almost ruined it."
"That made it better."
"So," he says. "Mrs. Mercer?"
"Don't push your luck, Flyboy. I might keep O'Connor."
"Hyphenate?"
"Maybe."
"As long as you keep me, I don't care what you call yourself."
"Good answer, Flyboy."
DEAN
Six months ago, walking into that clinic with Maverick felt like the scariest thing I'd ever done. Turns out it was just practice for this—standing in the Texas heat with a ring and a question and my entire future riding on her answer.
She said yes then.
She keeps saying yes.
"What are you thinking?" Callie asks, leaning into my side.
"That I just convinced you to marry a guy whose dog tried to eat your engagement ring."
"You did set the bar pretty low."
"Makes it easier to impress you later."
She smiles, soft and real, and I kiss her temple because I can. Because she's mine and I'm hers and Maverick's trying to steal Jake's hat and Apollo's probably planning a prison break and there's still a dozen things on today's schedule we haven't gotten to.
"Come on," Callie says, tugging my hand. "We've got three more puppies to evaluate before lunch."
"Always with the dogs," I tease.
"You love it."
"I love you."
She stops, turns, and looks up at me with those eyes that saw through my bullshit from day one and decided I was worth keeping anyway.
"I love you too, Bingo."
I groan, and she laughs, and we head back to work—her with a clipboard and me with a dog who still doesn't respect my authority.
Six months in Texas. A ring on her finger. Maverick trying to steal Jake's lunch across the yard.
Yeah. This'll do.