Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(116)
“You also got a head start. Had it been a fair race, I would’ve won.” He smooths my hair down with his palms and lightly kisses my forehead.
My jaw drops at the accusation. “Nuh-uh. You gave me a horse you knew was slow, then asked me to race. It was rigged from the start.”
“Okay, okay. We can trade horses for the way back and see who wins.”
“Either way, you’re building the dresser.” A quick close-lipped kiss. “With the backwards hat. No shirt on.”
It’s a picture I’ve been blessed to see multiple times since we started the process of moving into the house he bought. At first, he was doing all the work because I was in a cast. Then it basically became foreplay—a game to see how long we could tease each other before christening yet another room or piece of furniture in our new home.
“Ready when you two are,” George Shaw—rodeo announcer and, in true small-town fashion, the only licensed officiant in the area—calls out from under the tree where our initials are carved.
There beside him are our siblings, best friends, parents…. I nearly choke on my own spit when I see Bennett Wells standing toward the back of the group in a dark green button-up. How our people managed to pull this together in two weeks is beyond me. At first, we were talking about a lovely summer wedding next year, but it didn’t feel right for either of us. With Mom’s illness, and the constant niggling reminder that tomorrow may never come for any of us, we chucked the wedding planning in the garbage and went all in on an intimate gathering at our tree. Austin even allowed vehicles to drive along the outskirts of the hayfields—slowly, to help protect the sensitive grazing land—so my mom could safely get here.
“Oh, wait. Isn’t it bad luck to see you?” Denver jokingly covers his eyes.
“You’re a dork. Bad luck would be you tripping in a hole. Just because I’m fully healed doesn’t mean it’s your turn to injure yourself.” I grab his hand, smoothing out my white midi dress with the other, and making our way across the soft grass.
In front of our closest friends and family, Denver and I hold hands. Each shaking, with glassy eyes and relentless smiles. Years later than either of us initially thought this would happen, but also so much sooner than I ever expected. Maybe it’s quick—too quick, some might say. But it’s always been him for me. I’ve wanted to marry this man since we were two goofy kids in love, and I’ve waited long enough to finally do it.
“Short but sweet, because we all know if I get too serious for too long, I combust.” Surrounded by the low chuckle of his brothers, he lets out a big exhale, squeezing my hands. “Blair, the first time we hung out, you tricked me into spending hours sitting next to the least-used railroad tracks in the province with the promise of a ‘really cool’ flattened penny”—he releases his grip on one hand to dig in his pocket, pulling out the same penny we squished a million years ago—“and I hate to admit it to you now, but the penny wasn’t that cool. That’s not why I stayed there with you, or why I insisted we go back the next weekend to flatten toonies.”
He smiles, turning the coin over in his hand, then placing it in my palm. “I fell in love with making you smile that day. From that moment on, the only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And I know I lost sight of that for a while, but the second you came back home, I knew I needed to be the reason for your smile again. That’s all I want, Blair Bear. Let me love you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
I could kiss him—but I can’t, because…wedding.
“I can’t believe you kept this.” I tighten my grip around the coin, and before I can reach to wipe the tear rolling down my face, he catches it with the pad of his thumb.
“Of course I did.”
When George, our officiant, gives me the go-ahead, every muscle begins to quiver. Denver holds my hands, tightening and loosening like a heartbeat until my pulse regulates. Taking care of me without needing to be prompted. This is why I’m marrying this man.
“Even when you weren’t in my life, you were. You were in the country song on the radio, the sound of a diesel truck, and the creak in my apartment floorboards. Finding our way back to each other has felt like coming home after a long trip, and I can finally drop the heavy bags that have been weighing on me all these years. I didn’t know if we’d get back here, or if we’d be able to make up for lost time, but time’s never mattered when I’m with you. You’re my person, Denver, and I’m so happy we’re picking back up where we left off. I love you.”
The tanned skin around his eyes crinkles with his smile, and he mouths an “I love you.” George has us repeat the marriage vows after him, while slipping rings onto each other’s trembling fingers, and two small pools of tears form in Denver’s dimples.
Then we kiss, with his hands sliding into my hair and my arms looping around his neck. Kissing him comes as naturally to me as breathing. Making our love for each other known in the same place we have time and time again, wrapped in a warm wind that feels a lot like his mom’s reassuring hug. He and I are as inevitable as the passing of time, and as ineffable as a Wells Ranch sunset.
Denver
My wife.
Even in a crowd, I find her in a heartbeat—that invisible string between us tighter than ever. She and I have always shared a soul, but now we share a last name.