36
“H ow is this so fucking boring?” Wyatt grumbles as he runs coarse-grain sandpaper over a sign post. It’s our last tick off the to-do checklist before we open for the season—sand and varnish the log posts, coat the metal Runaway Ranch entrance gate sign.
Charlie chuckles. “We’re opening in T-minus twenty days, you better get ready to work.”
“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” I mutter, resisting the urge to rip it from his hands and do it myself.
“Careful,” Ford warns. He’s high in the air on the front-end loader of the tractor. “D’s about to run this shit like the fucking Marines.”
Ignoring him, I turn my attention to the ranch, unbuttoning the cuff of my sleeve and beginning to roll it up.
It’s been a long three days since the scare at the ranch. That night, after proposing to Dakota, I checked in with Richter. Aiden’s plane never left DC. Flight records confirmed it.
I still don’t know if I believe it was a couple of hunters with a magnum flashlight and a .308. Either way, it was too close of a goddamn call.
After checking the tracker on my phone that shows Dakota in the lodge, I turn to my brothers and ready a breath. “Dakota and I made it official.”
A stunned silence falls.
“I proposed,” I clarify.
“Whoa. When did this happen?” Charlie demands.
“And we didn’t know about it?” Wyatt grouses, irritated at being left out.
“After the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, got down on one knee and said some sappy shit?” Ford drawls, unhooking the metal Runaway Ranch sign.
I shake my head. “I asked her to marry me. Wasn’t the place to do it, but…”
Dakota deserved a proposal with flowers and moonlight, but I couldn’t wait anymore.
Wyatt groans, swings a finger between me and Charlie. “Man, y’all both are whupped. Both of you makin’ grand confessions of love when shit hits the fan.”
Charlie and I share a grin.
“Only way to do it,” I tell Wyatt, slapping him on the shoulder. “We ain’t cowboys if we’re not on our knees in front of a good woman.”
I’m lowering Ford and the sign to the ground when I spot the sander shooting out of Wyatt’s hands. It lands in the pasture, sputtering. He and Charlie snicker.
“Jesus.” I jump out of the tractor and toss my black Stetson on the ground. “Can’t we have one day on this ranch that doesn’t end in bodily injury?”
“You’re the one getting married,” Wyatt says. “You’re signing up for bodily injury on a daily basis.”
Ford hops out of the front-end loader. “So, when’s this big shindig happening?”
I help my brother lower the sign to the ground. “Soon as we can.”
“And Stede didn’t kill you?” Ford asks.
“Stede doesn’t know yet. We’re telling him tonight. At Family.” I take a deep breath, ready to share more news with my brothers. “I want to talk to y’all about another thing. Eden.”
“Anything up there anymore?” Charlie asks, using the extension cord as a lasso to pull the sander back to us.
“Just Ford’s old smokes.” I give my twin a look. “Hard candies.”
“Hey, man,” Ford says, holding up his dusty hands. “Not me. Gave that shit up.”
I rub the back of my neck, squeeze it. “I know we decided we’re not selling the land, but what if Dakota and I moved out there?” I’ve been thinking about it ever since the night we spent up there. Build Dakota a home, give her the biggest kitchen in Montana. “It’s the perfect place for our family.”
Charlie and Ford blink.
“We can’t live in the lodge forever. With the baby…we could build a place up there. I’d still be around for the Ranch. I just wouldn’t be—”
“Up everyone’s ass all the time?” Ford says dryly.
I give him a look. “Up everyone’s ass all the time.”
“Well,” Ford says with an easy shrug. “Gotta stay close seein’ as we’re gonna be uncles and all.”
I cut a grin at my brothers as joy takes root in my chest and spreads.
No more shadows.
Only home.
After my conversation with my brothers, I tackle training exercises with my dogs and head back to the lodge.
My job as a Marine has prepared me for some mentally tough situations, but nothing braces me for the sight that hits me when I step inside.
Dakota sprawls on the big leather couch—maternity jeans rolled down, shirt pulled high, hands over her bare belly—crying.
Keena stares from her nearby position on the floor.
Panic seeps through me. I’m on my knees beside her faster than I care to admit.
“Baby, what is it?” I ask, fanning a hand out over her stomach.
“I was just thinking…” She sniffles, rolling her head across the couch cushion to look solemnly at me. “What if Squish and I were on the Titanic and I couldn’t save him?”
Christ, that’s it?
Relief fills me as I smother a smile. By now, I’m used to Dakota’s crying fits over the smallest thing. It tears me up inside, but damn if she isn’t adorable.
I chuckle softly. “If you were on the Titanic, I’d be your personal life boat.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She sniffles.
I reach for my back pocket. “Granola bar?”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “You’re like a walking vending machine, Hotshot.”
“Only for you.” I curl my hand around hers and search her wet eyes. “You okay?”
“I am the most tired woman in the world,” she admits. “I am tired when I get up. I am tired when I sleep.” She sighs. “My brain is soup. My feet are busted biscuits. My breasts are watermelons.”
“I love your biscuits.” I sweep my thumb over her cheekbone. “And I especially love your watermelons.”
“I hit my stomach on the kitchen island corner.” Fresh tears fill her eyes. “Squish is going to be born with a dented head and I’ll have to answer questions about it for life.”
I shake my head. “Dakota.”
My thumb whisks over her ring finger. Christ, I love the way that diamond looks. Love what it means. That she’s mine.
Marrying Dakota is like boarding that plane for Marine training, knowing my life would never be the same. Knowing I’d come back changed.
Dakota changed me six years ago. And she’s still doing it.
“Worries are normal, okay? But we can solve every single one of them.”
“What about a crib?”
“Already ordered.”
She nuzzles her cheek against my hand. “Squish needs a name.”
“How about Stede’s middle name?”
She arches a brow in quiet contemplation, then says, “He needs a room.”
“He’ll have one,” I promise her. I kiss her tiny lip freckle, her cheek. “Soon.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really.” I help her sit up. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”