Epilogue
WINNIE
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
"Home isn't where you land—it's where you choose to stay, and stay, and stay."
– Winnie Jameson
***
Nationals changed everything.
Not just the third-place finish—though that helped, the prize money and sponsorship deals that followed even more so.
But it was the moment I crossed that finish line in Fort Worth, Bandit's hooves thundering, crowd roaring, and I looked up to see Beau in the stands exactly where he'd promised he'd be last time, first row, center seat, screaming louder than anyone else, his face split in the biggest, stupidest grin I'd ever seen.
That's when I knew, bone-deep and certain, this was forever.
A year later, I was living that forever in ways I'd never imagined. The ranch was thriving—cattle healthy, finances actually stable for the first time in years, Pops strong enough to work half-days and complain about being forced to rest the other half. And Beau? Beau had transformed. He’d gone from that overdressed city boy who couldn't tell a pitchfork from a garden rake into someone Pops actually trusted with the herd.
His hands were permanently calloused, rough against my skin in the best way.
His shoulders were broader from months of hauling feed and fixing fences.
He looked like he'd been born to this life.
Like Dallas had been the costume and this—dirt under his nails, hay in his hair, arguing with a rooster at dawn—was who he really was.
Which is why, when he woke me up at 4:30 on a Sunday morning with a hand on my hip and a whisper of "Get dressed, we're going somewhere," I didn't even question it.
Well. I questioned it a little.
"Beau, it's four-thirty in the morning. On a Sunday.
Our one day to sleep past five." I blinked at him in the darkness of my room—he'd taken to sneaking in after Pops went to sleep, leaving before dawn, a dance we both knew Pops was aware of but politely ignored.
"Unless the barn is on fire, go back to sleep. "
"It's better than sleep. Trust me?" His eyes were bright even in the dim light, almost manic with barely contained excitement. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Jeans and a nice shirt. And boots. Your good ones."
"My good boots? Beau, if you're taking me to Waffle House in my show boots, I'm going to kick you."
"Please, Win. Just... trust me."
Twenty minutes later, I was dressed, caffeinated, and confused, sitting in his new truck as we drove through the dark Oklahoma morning. The sky was just starting to lighten at the edges—that particular quality of pre-dawn blue that felt more like possibility than actual color.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
"Nope." He was grinning, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to rest on my thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into the denim. "But we're almost there."
We turned off the main road onto a dirt path I knew by heart—it led to the old Miller property, twenty acres that had sat empty for two years since old man Miller passed and his kids moved to Tulsa to become accountants or something tragic.
I'd ridden past it a hundred times, always thinking what a shame it was that good land was going to waste.
Beau parked near the decrepit farmhouse—paint peeling, porch sagging, windows dark—and killed the engine.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Why are we at the Miller place at the crack of dawn? Are we squatting? Is this a breaking and entering date?"
He turned to face me, and the excitement in his expression was blinding. "Because I bought it."
The world tilted on its axis. "You... what?"
"I bought it. Closed on it Friday afternoon.
Twenty acres, the house, the barn, access to the creek.
" He was talking fast now, words tumbling over each other.
"I know we talked about expanding eventually, being smart and waiting, but Win—this property borders yours to the east. It would give us direct creek access year-round, double our grazing land, and look—" He pointed toward the barn.
"That structure is sound. It could be converted into a proper training facility.
Indoor arena, stalls for client horses, room for clinics and lessons. "
My brain was struggling to catch up. "Beau, this property costs... twenty acres in this area, even with the buildings needing work, that's at least two hundred grand. How did you—"
"I've been saving. And investing." He squeezed my thigh.
"Every sponsorship deal that paid me as your 'training consultant,' every remote consulting call I've done for Dad's old business contacts who still think I'm coming back—which I'm absolutely not—I've been putting it away.
Plus the stocks I cashed out when I left.
It took everything I had, but I did it. I bought us a future. "
"Us," I repeated, the word sticking in my throat.
"Us. Because that's what this is, Win. An investment in what we're building together." He grabbed both my hands now, his palms warm and rough. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."
We walked through the property in the growing dawn light—past the house that needed work but had good bones, past the barn that was waiting for new life, out toward the back where the land sloped down to the creek.
The water sparkled in the early morning sun, and I could see it: cattle grazing, trails for riding, a future spreading out like the Oklahoma sky.
"Here," Beau said, stopping at a flat clearing overlooking the creek. "This is my favorite spot. I've been coming here for weeks, planning."
"Planning what?"
Instead of answering, he pulled something from his jacket pocket—a rolled-up paper secured with twine. He handed it to me, and I untied it with shaking fingers.
It was an architect's sketch. Beautiful, detailed, labeled: JAMESON-STERLING EQUESTRIAN CENTER.
"I've been working with someone from Tulsa," Beau said as I stared at the drawing—an indoor arena, attached stalls, an observation area, office space.
"Just preliminary plans, nothing committed yet, because I wanted you to see it first. But imagine it, Win.
You could train year-round. Bring in client horses.
Build something bigger than just competition. "
"Jameson-Sterling," I whispered, my eyes catching on our names merged together at the top.
"Both our names. Equal partnership." He took the paper from my trembling hands and set it aside on a rock, then took my hands again. "Because that's what I want this to be. What I want us to be. Partners in everything. In the dirt, in the finances, in the bed."
"Beau—"
"Wait. Let me—I have a whole speech planned.
I practiced it on Pickles. He pecked me, but I think he liked it.
" He took a breath, and I realized his hands were shaking too.
"12 months ago, I showed up here with three suitcases and absolutely no idea who I was.
I didn't know how to mend a fence or check cattle.
I definitely didn't know how to be the kind of man who deserved someone like you. "
"That's not—"
"It is. It was true then. But you taught me, Win.
You taught me that worth isn't about a bank balance or a last name.
It's about showing up. It's about staying when it's hard.
You taught me what home actually means." His voice cracked, raw and honest. "And somewhere along the way, this stopped being about proving myself or running from Dallas.
It became about building a life with you. The only life I want."
He released my hands and—oh God—dropped to one knee in the dirt, in the growing sunlight, his jeans immediately getting dusty.
"So I'm doing this right," he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. "Naomie Jameson, I'm kneeling in the dirt at dawn on property I bought for our future, about to ruin my knees, because you deserve someone who isn't afraid to get dirty for you. Who stays."
He opened the box. Inside was a ring—simple, perfect, a stunning diamond set in a gold band that looked like twisted rope. Elegant, sturdy, and completely us.
"Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life burning coffee, losing arguments to a rooster, and worshipping you every single night?"
I was crying—ugly crying, the kind where your breath hitches—and I didn't even care. "You're proposing to me in the dirt at five in the morning."
"I know. Is it working?"
"You bought property without telling me."
"I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to surprise you. Win, please say yes, my knee is on a rock—"
"Yes!" The word burst out, half laugh and half sob. "Yes, you ridiculous, property-buying, dawn-proposing, perfect man. Yes, I'll marry you!"
His face split into the biggest, most relieved smile I'd ever seen. He fumbled the ring out of the box—his hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped it—and slid it onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
Then he stood, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me.
It wasn't a sweet, gentle kiss. It was deep, claiming, full of relief and promise and a heat that made my toes curl in my boots. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the solid thump of his heart against mine.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, he pressed his forehead to mine. "You said yes."
"Of course I said yes, you idiot. Did you actually think I'd say no?"
"I mean, there was a non-zero chance you'd be mad about the property thing. Or the timing. Or the fact that I did this without consulting Pops first—"
I pulled back. "Wait. You didn't ask Pops?"
"Oh no, I absolutely asked Pops. Last week. I'm not suicidal." He grinned. "He said, and I quote, 'About damn time, boy. But if you hurt her, I know where to hide a body.' Then he helped me pick the ring."
"Pops helped pick this?"
"Drove him to three different jewelers in Tulsa until we found the right one. He has very strong opinions about diamonds." Beau kissed me again. "So yes, I have his blessing. And his potential murder threat. Both very motivating."
I laughed, looking down at the ring catching the morning light, then out at the property—our property. "We're really doing this. Building something together."
"Partners," he reminded me. "I love you. So much."
"I love you too." I kissed his jaw. "Now take me home. I need to tell Pops. And Cassie. And then I need you to take these clothes off me and celebrate properly."
His eyes darkened instantly. "Celebrate properly, huh?"
"It is Sunday," I teased. "We have the whole day."
***
We got back to the ranch around six-thirty to find Pops on the porch, coffee in hand, looking entirely too smug.
"Mornin', you two. Nice drive?"
I held up my left hand, the ring glinting. "You knew. You knew he was going to propose this morning!"
"Well, I helped him pick the ring. And I might've given him the key to the gate at Miller's property." Pops studied the ring with approval. "Good choice. Simple. Won't catch on equipment."
"Practical. That's your response to me getting engaged?"
But he was standing, setting down his coffee, pulling me into a hug that smelled like Old Spice and home. "I'm happy for you, kiddo. Happier than I can say. Nana would've loved this—loved him. I think you found your match."
My throat tightened. "Yeah. I think I did."
He released me, turning to Beau and extending his hand. "Welcome to the family, son. Officially. Though you've been family for months now, we're just makin' it legal."
"Thank you, sir. For everything."
"Day ain't over yet," Pops said, grinning. "Now get inside. I'm makin' pancakes to celebrate."
We followed him inside, and I immediately pulled out my phone to call Cassie. She answered on the first ring with a groggy, "This better be life or death, Win—"
"I'm engaged."
Silence. Then: "I'M COMING OVER RIGHT NOW. I'M brINGING CHAMPAGNE AND I'M GOING TO CRY ON YOU."
She hung up. I looked at Beau, who was laughing.
"She's going to be a lot," I warned.
"I'm counting on it." He pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. "You know what the best part is?"
"That you own twenty acres of prime grazing land?"
"No. The best part is I get to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life. Legally. No more sneaking out before dawn."
"Pops knows you've been sneaking in, by the way. He just ignores it."
"I know. He told me. Said, 'I was young once too, just don't break the furniture.'"
I choked on a laugh. "He did not."
"He absolutely did." Beau grinned, pulling me tighter. "I love you, Winnie Jameson soon-to-be-Sterling. Even though you're bossy in the arena."
"I love you too, Beau Sterling. Even though you're a city boy at heart."
"Not anymore," he murmured, looking out the window at the land, the cattle, the sunrise painting the Oklahoma sky. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
And for the first time in my life, I knew he was right. We were home.
THE END