Blueberry’s easy strides turn into a prance beneath me, a showy little jog as we enter the ring.
And this ring isn’t just another small-town fair grounds. This is a proper arena, one with full stands and a rowdy crowd here for a show.
This arena is a dream I never thought would come true.
I glance over my shoulder, seeking that flash of coppery hair. And she’s there, smiling, gripping the metal fence panel with one hand, the other slung over her stomach, looking at me like I hung the moon—and for her I would.
I’d do it for everything she’s given me in such a short time . . .
A love Luke has never known.
A reason for me to smile again.
A person to talk to after so many years of silence.
A love I’ve never known. One I’m not so sure I deserve, but one I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to preserve. But I’ll get to that part later.
For now, I turn my eyes back on the pen of cattle and listen carefully as we’re given the number. And then I get to work because I’m going to make this lifelong dream come to fruition.
The noisy crowd falls away when the buzzer sounds, and the only thing that exists is what’s between Blueberry’s ears.
She cuts. She runs. She turns. She drops a shoulder.
The leather of the reins is warm in my fingers, and I feel like I’m just along for the ride. She’s never performed so well in her life. It’s like she knows this is it. The big show. Our one chance.
In what feels like it took mere seconds, we’ve squared away the cows and I’m looking around myself like there must be more. Like we must have missed something. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, but judging by the way Lance is standing up in his stirrups whooping like a madman, I’d say we’ve done it and done it well.
When the judges post our scores, they confirm my hunch and I’m left shaking my head, smiling like a loon, and searching for Willa.
She’s climbed up to the top of the fence panel and is staring at me with her hands cupped over her mouth, shouting like a crazy person. My crazy person.
Here for me.
Summer is whistling louder than anyone in the arena, and Rhett is grinning and shaking his stupid fucking sign in the air.
But it’s Willa I can’t take my eyes from. I ride straight to her, in the middle of a packed arena, sling an arm around the back of her neck and kiss her.
I kiss her hard. I kiss her to say the things I can’t find the words for.
“I love you, Cade Eaton, and I am so damn proud of you,” is what she whispers in my ear while her fingers trail up the back of my neck.
“I love you too, baby,” is what I get out, just before she pulls the black cowboy hat off my head and plunks it on her own.
Leaning back away from me, she gives me a playful little smirk.
I quirk a brow in her direction. “You know the rule, Red?”
“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” She winks at me, looking fucking adorable wearing my hat. I should have put it on her forever ago. I should have put it on her the first day I laid eyes on her in that coffee shop.
With a twist of my lips and a shake of my head, I turn to ride away and celebrate with my team for a moment because that score is damn near unbeatable.
But I don’t get far before I hear a whistle and, “Looking good, Daddy!” followed by the most beautiful chime-like laughter, light and airy and heartwarming.
That laugh I heard months ago and was instantly obsessed with. Just like the woman staring back at me from beneath the brim of my hat when I toss a glance over my shoulder.
And I realize in that moment maybe I am heartless after all, because the beautiful girl with the copper hair grinning back at me right now is the one who stole it.
Epilogue
Willa
Cade: I’m going to be in the far west field today.
Willa: Okay. No problem.
Cade: Do you think you should still be teaching this close to your due date?
Willa: To my knowledge, showing people how to play the guitar has not been known to stimulate labor.
Cade: Don’t be a smart-ass.
Willa: I’m pregnant. Not disabled.
Cade: Not funny.
Willa: Neither is your breeding kink. But here we are.
Cade: Call me if something happens.
Willa: Are you ignoring my joke?
Cade: I don’t want to miss the birth of my child.
Willa: I think after my lessons I’ll give the yard a blow job.
Cade: You’re insane. But I love you.
Willa: Love you too.
“Which ones are better?” I ask Luke from across the kitchen island with a wince. I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks fake fucking contractions for days and have been baking cookies to busy myself. The baby kicks the shit out of me non-stop, and I feel like a beached whale. Whoever said pregnancy is beautiful can die a fiery death, as far as I’m concerned.