Epilogue
Hyacinth
It takes two weeks of back and forth between the house and Westfang, but eventually we are moved, kits and all. Turns out, Sting already owned a small house just outside town, very similar to the one we stayed in. When I call it the ‘cabin,’ Sting gives me a weird look.
“It’s made of adobe. It isn’t a cabin.”
“I didn’t say log cabin,” I say with a tease in my voice. “But it’s cute, small, surprisingly homey.” At that, he snorts.
“Why surprisingly homey?” he asks, a twitch at his eyebrow.
“Well, you live alone. You’re a grumpy cowboy.
Cozy isn’t really the first image that springs to mind when I think of where you might be living.
” I shrug, enjoying the range of emotions on his face as he processes my words.
For a brief second, I wonder if I’ve hurt his feelings.
But then he stalks toward me, a sly half grin on his face, and my core clenches in anticipation.
He presses me up against the cool adobe wall in the kitchen.
Handmade tile counter stretches out to my left.
“Cozy isn’t a word in my vocabulary. But I do like to be comfortable.
If you want to make the place co-zi-er,” he stretches the word out like its foreign to him.
I resist the urge to giggle. “Then please do. This is your place now. Your cabin.” His lips are gentle but hungry against mine.
I open to him, eager to claim him here, claim this place as mine. Ours.
“The rescue is here to assess the kits for release.” Sting’s voice is somber. He looks from Cupcake, snuggled against my chest, up to my face, eyes sharpening when he sees the tears on my face.
“This always happens. It isn’t a big deal,” I sniffle as I speak.
I see the question in his eyes. “When animals get healthy. They go home to owners, or like here—released into the wild. And it’s so bittersweet.
I’m excited for them. I’m sad for me. I’ll miss Cupcake and her siblings.
I’ll miss feeding them twice a day. I know it’s silly.
I’ve done the training. This is for the best. I—”
I’m so embarrassed that I’ve burst into full on tears. Cupcake stirs, whimpers in my arms, then lick me. Sting reaches for me, pulling me into a giant hug.
That’s how the rescue folks find us. Big green orcs, wearing wildlife vests, carrying a toolbox filled with vet equipment, and grumbling to themselves.
“How are the kits?” The one who introduces himself as Granite. His partner, Rhett is hunched, pulling out equipment.
“Healthy. Weaned. Ready for the wilderness,” I say, trying to summon my professional vet tech persona, but it’s a lost cause. I’m too tearful.
The orcs are surprisingly gentle as they handle each kit, saving Cupcake for last, which is a kindness they didn’t need to offer me. I’m grateful.
It’s brief. Too soon, the kits are in a box headed for the orcs’ Jeep, where they will supervise their release.
Sting offered that we could go, but it’s better this way.
As they drive off into the heat of the day, I start cleaning their pen, filling the wheelbarrow with their straw bedding to dump in our new compost pile.
By the time I’ve scrubbed everything down, including their water bowl, Sting has returned with a glass of iced chai for me.
“Come on, come sit in the shade and breathe for a minute.”
The porch here is smaller, but we’ve already discussed plans to enlarge it, adding a flower and herb bed along one side. When I suggested an outdoor tub, Sting’s eyes went dark, pupils dilated, as an answer. I’ll take that as a yes.
“Your heart is so big, so open. I’ve never met anyone as willing to love anyone and everyone as you.” Sting’s words surprise me, pull me out of my internal moping over Cupcake.
“You’re sweet. But you’re the one who rescued them. Named them. Took Lily and me in! Look at you! You’re just as open and willing.”
“Giving someone shelter is not the same as loving them,” he grumbles, then pauses for a minute, looking out into the distance.
“You’re right, not everyone would give shelter to motherless kits, or lost sisters, especially without ulterior motives.
I’m glad I’m the one who found you. You’re so easy to love. I hope you know that.”
“I do, but only because you tell me that almost every day.”
What I really want is to jump him here. But I think the porch chairs, while comfortable to sit in, won’t hold up to the task of sex. Instead, I slurp the rest of my delicious iced chai and lean back, trying to relax. Trying not to think of kits trying to survive in the wild.
“I have an idea,” Sting interrupts my moping internal thoughts. I crack an eye open to look at him. “Why don’t we have dinner at the saloon. It’s smoked pork night. And then we can take a stroll through the desert in the cool of night. Maybe find a new rescue animal to help?”
I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does. He’s so thoughtful. And it’s silly to think we are going to wander around and find a newly abandoned or hurt animal to care for. But you know what?
“It sounds like a date to me!” I say, sitting up to rally.
Sting stands, helps me to my feet, and kisses me deeply. “I’ll rescue every animal in the desert that needs help if it will make you happy.” His kiss opens me. His words prick my heart again. This man. I love every inch of him.
“I guess we’re going to need to build a bigger shed, then.” He chuckles a little, nods, and leads me back inside to get ready for our roam through the desert date.
A night on the back of the scorpion cowboy sounds dreamy to me.
No matter how you choose to vacation I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading Vacation With the Scorpion Cowboy.