Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(102)

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.”





I bounce along in the passenger seat as Davis drives his truck behind the ranch and into the mountains. We bump along a rutted path in the green forest. Soon, our surroundings become familiar to me.

Eden.

The small cabin sits in the middle of a clearing. Dappled sunlight falls through the aspens onto the matted grass in front of the entrance. Off in the distance, the sound of Crybaby Falls.

I quirk a brow. “Davis Montgomery, you bring me up here for another quickie?”

A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Not yet.” He leans over to unbuckle my seatbelt below my belly.

We get out of the truck and he slides his arm around my waist. I inhale the crisp spring air, let the bright sunlight bathe my skin.

Davis takes five paces from me to stand in front of the cabin. He looks down, frowns at something, picks it up, puts it in his pocket.

Gaze lighting on me, his face softens. “What about here?” he asks, spreading his arms.

“Here for what?”

“We build our home.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “What?”

“A place to live,” Davis says. “For me, you and Squish.” His boots crunch twigs as he wanders around the space. “I see a wraparound front porch here. And back here…a kitchen. As big and as messy as you want.”

Unable to speak, I bobble-head nod. Tears warm the backs of my eyes.

As if he knows I’m a hot mess of tears, Davis smiles and keeps talking. “Bedrooms. For friends and family. And this…” He stops at the corner of the cabin, a spot that overlooks a field of wildflowers. “This is our son’s room.”

My heart cracks open. Absolutely shatters.

I marvel as I stare at him in the late afternoon light. Handsome and hard, but soft and kind. I get to love this man. I can imagine me and Davis in the mornings, waking with the sun, a big eat-in kitchen with skylights, and a playroom for our son.

“What about the lodge?” I ask, my heart hammering.

“I’ll still be at the ranch. We’ll just have our own space.” His eyes trace over my face as he comes back to me. His hands go to the curve of my hips, my stomach. “What do you think, Koty?” Davis’s gruff voice betrays his nerves. “Do you like it? Could you make a home here?”

I slide my hands up his chest and smile. “Wherever you are is home, Davis. You just tell me where to plant roots.”

With a grin, Davis pulls me in for a mind-scrambling kiss.

A wave of joy blooms over me. The world is my oyster and I get to decide where to go from here. And I choose Davis. A beautiful home with a man who never raises his voice or his hand. A man who loves a child he didn’t make and has healed trauma he didn’t create. This man is a miracle. He is my miracle.