Turning back to River, a flood of peace and warmth washes over me and warm sunlight kisses the top of my head.
Taking my hand in his, he kisses me. “How’d it go? You say what you wanted to say?”
My smiling lips graze his. “Yeah. I did.”
Chapter Fifty-One
River
“You look good on that horse.” I ride behind Leighton Wednesday evening after dinner. “You’re a real natural.”
“Stop checking out my ass,” she calls out, her shiny riding boots resting in the stirrups of her palomino’s saddle.
“Nothing wrong with enjoying the view.”
She pulls her horse, Soraya, to a stop, waiting for me to catch up, and the dog trails behind us, sniffing rocks and cow pies every so often.
“Where are we headed anyway? I’m not familiar with this trail.” She peers around the wide-open space. My property spans from horizon to horizon.
“We can go anywhere you want,” I say. “We don’t have to stick to the trail. Everything you see from here is mine. Go wherever you want. I’ll be right beside you.”
“What about that butte over there.” She points, shielding her eyes with her other hand. “Do you own that butte?”
“I do.”
She loosens Soraya’s reins and gives her a gentle kick, and we head toward one of the biggest buttes in Bonesteel County. Ten minutes later, we stop the horses at the bottom and dismount, hiking the rest of the way to the top.
“This view is everything,” she says, slipping her hand around my lower back. “I could never get tired of this.”
“Same.”
Peering up at me, a mischievous grin claims her face. “Have you named this one yet?”
“Leighton, it’s a giant rock, not a damn dog.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
“People name mountains. Why is it so odd for a butte to have a name?” She elbows me. “If this guy is nameless, I’d love to have the honors.”
“Be my guest.”
“We should call it Tibbs Butte.”
“As in … Casey Tibbs?”
“Yeah.” She laughs. “The guy who rented out your house online. I mean, not the real Casey Tibbs, but you know what I mean.”
“Tibbs Butte it is.”
For a second, I find myself imagining her dressed in white, standing here on top of Tibbs Butte, flowers in her hair and love in her gleaming eyes.
I’m going to marry this woman.
I’m going to marry her right here, on top of this butte, overlooking our land and the life we’ll build together as we embrace the second chance at happiness we were so generously given.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Leighton
“Molly and Guy just pulled up,” I tell River Saturday afternoon. I was putting groceries away when he came in with a cut on his hand.
Cleaning him up, I inspect my work before letting him go.
“Wonder what they need?” he asks, heading outside to talk to Guy.
A moment later, Molly walks in. “Hey, lady. Guy just needed to borrow a tool from River. We won’t be in your hair very long.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay as long as you want.” I move toward the cupboard. “You want something to drink?”
“No, no. I’m fine. We’ll be leaving here in a few minutes. I just wanted to stop in and say hi.” Her hooded eyes glint and her lips fight a smirk. “Also … I had a dream last night that you were pregnant.”
“Molly.” I slam the cupboard door. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“You’re not pregnant now,” she says, waving her hand. “At least I don’t think you are. But in my dream, you were having twins. A boy and a girl.”
“I like the idea of twins, but I’m guessing the reality is …”
“If you have a girl, you have to share her with me. I’d kill for ribbons and bows,” she says. “You’ll share her with me, right?”
I laugh. “Of course.”
Molly hooks her muscled arm over my shoulder. “Let’s check on the men, shall we? Guy’s probably chatting River’s ear off. He read this article about pesticides the other day and it’s all he can talk about right now.”
Guy and River stand in the middle of the front yard, and Molly and I take the rocking chairs. A warm breeze kisses my face, and River turns, meeting my gaze with a smile that makes me feel like it’s only the two of us.
He does that, looks at me like I’m his whole world, and it makes me melt from the inside out.
The second Guy and Molly leave, I’m going to be all over that man, loving on him, kissing on him.
One of the Fasthorse boys climbs out of the back of the Suburban. “Mom! We have soccer tonight.”
“Oh, shoot.” Molly springs up. “Totally forgot. Guy, we gotta go. Cooper has soccer. Leighton, I’ll catch you later?”
River comes to my side, and I wave, watching as they drive away a minute later. My heart is filled with so much bliss it’s on the verge of exploding. Being here, on my family’s farm, with River McCray, makes everything feel like it’s finally come full circle.
I could stay here forever, on this little piece of heaven, and never get tired of the view. Or the company.
For the first time in over a decade, home feels like home again.
And this time, I’m never leaving.
Epilogue
River
Two years later …
My wife cradles our newborn infants in her tired arms, rocking them to sleep in the nursery they share. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of them since the moment they were placed in her arms. Asher Cannon has her dark hair and pointy chin, and Autumn Emma has my nose and ears.
A year ago we exchanged vows on top of Tibbs Butte, surrounded by her family and my friends. It was a small, intimate ceremony with handwritten vows. When it was over, we released two white doves while our loved ones cheered with happy tears in their eyes. Grandma Joyce cried the most and cheered the loudest, and while she’s no longer with us, I know she’s resting peacefully with her beloved John, looking down on her favorite grandchild and knowing she’s happy and loved, her dying wish granted.
“Did you get the bunkhouse painted?” Leighton whispers, not wanting to wake the sleeping babies.
“It’s going to be years before they’re big enough to play in it,” I tell her. “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”
She smiles. “I can’t help it. I’m so excited for them. I think of all the fun I had growing up here, and I just want that for them.”
A month ago, Leighton started nesting like crazy, insisting that we turn the bunkhouse into an outdoor playhouse and that I find a couple of old tires so we can hang swings from one of the old trees out front where she once played as a child.
Crouching over the newest McCrays, I kiss all three of them on the tops of their perfect heads, and my heart overflows with joy and hope and peace and happiness.
Leighton saved me.
These babies healed me.
And I’m never going to be the same after this.
I’ll move heaven and earth to keep them safe, healthy, and contented. I’ll love them from the depths of my soul, to the end of the ocean and back.
“They’re so perfect, aren’t they?” Leighton rocks them, humming a sweet lullaby a moment later.
“Of course they are,” I say. “We made them.”
“I mean, I don’t mean to be biased, but these are some beautiful babies.”