“I’mgreatat riding, for your information.”
“Oh, I know that.” He winks at me as he hands me the reins. “You’re excellent at riding…if we’re talking about something other than horses.”
“I’m great at both. Some might even say anatural,thank you very much.”
He watches intently as I mount the horse—as if he expects he’ll need to launch in my direction to catch me at any moment. And since my ankle doesn’t immediately shatter when I put weight on it to swing my other foot over, he exhales and sinks down into his own saddle.
Adjusting the dress bunched up around my hips and thighs, I smile at him. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are, Bear.”
Our horses side by side, Denver and I link fingers as often as we can. Brief touches when our horses converge and diverge repeatedly, hooves sinking into the dry dirt and rattling over rocks. And each time, we share a look. Locked eyes reflecting all the emotion and heartache that’s led to where we are now. None of it matters anymore, because I have him and he has me. Neither of us are going anywhere.
The trees lining the top hayfields are quickly losing their amber and goldenrod leaves with every passing gust. Like a rolling fire tumbling along the yellowed field, they blow ahead of us. It’s absolutely stunning—the perfect day in every possible way.
We stop to take in the scenery, when Denver sidles up next to me and leans in. I think he’s going for a kiss, but instead he removes the shiny floral clip I had keeping my hair in the pretty updo Cass spent twenty minutes on this morning.
“Hey!” I swat at him.
“Thought you’d want to feel the wind in your hair while we race across this field. You ride best with your hair down.”
“So I’ve been told.” I smirk at Denver, giving the gelding under me a little kick. “Last one there has to assemble the dresser I just ordered.”
“You’ve always been a cheater,” he shouts after me.
I give it all I’ve got, and so does the horse, tearing across the open field. A cool breeze flows down my back, and my dress billows around my legs.
“You think I’d give you a horse with a lot of giddy-up in him?” Denver cackles, quickly catching up. “You’re not winning this one, Hart.”
“That’s Wells to you now, mister.” I turn to smirk at him, my hair whipping around my face. He’s right—I needed to feel the wind in my hair again.
I win by the skin of my teeth, and Denver refuses to admitit. Grumbling his disagreement, he dismounts and ties our horses to a tree, then helps me down.
“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’tthatcool. 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.
