“I know, it’s not the same.”
The next evening, Priti called to tell me my new project could be handled remotely. When I hung up, Duke was standing at the window, staring out at the skyline as if he were trying to find the mountains hidden behind it.
That’s when I knew it was time to get him home.
By the next morning, my mind is made up.
“Six months,” I tell him over coffee. “Let’s start with six months in Colorado. I can work remotely, see how it fits. If it doesn’t, we’ll come back here for the spring.”
He looks up from his mug, eyes lighting like sunrise over the peaks. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to smile.
“You won’t regret this, Trouble.” He leans across the counter and kisses my cheek. “Fall on the ranch is the best. Apple picking, golden aspens, cozy hay rides … and wait until you see what we do at Christmas.”
A few days later, we’re on the plane. When we step out of the truck at Firebird, the entire crew is waiting, but it’s Jameson who is the most excited to see us.
The mountains stretch wide and familiar around us, the air thin and sweet with pine. For the first time in months, Duke looks entirely himself again. Once Jameson barks at Duke, he rolls on the ground at my feet.
He glances over, eyes soft. “Told you Jameson missed you more.”
I laugh sitting down so I can rub Jameson’s belly. “He texted you about it, didn’t he?”
“Something like that.”
The ranch hums with life—horses snorting in the paddocks, laughter from the lodge kitchen, and the faint crackle of a bonfire being built for the night.
You know, I really didmiss this place.
By the timethe first leaves start to turn, our new routine feels effortless. Duke converted one of the guest rooms upstairs into an office for me—wide windows overlooking the paddocks, a lovely large desk, and shelves he built himself. The first morning I moved in, he stood in the doorway, pretending to be casual.
“Think it’ll do?” he asked.
“Um, it couldn’t be more perfect,” I said.
Life at Firebird hums as always, but it’s different as it prepares for the season change. Summer was golden—wild and alive, the air full of laughter and campfire smoke. Fall feels quieter. Calmer. The ranch has a rhythm that slows with the season: horses’ breath steaming in the early mornings, frost glittering on the fences, and Duke’s coffee always waiting for me on the porch before sunrise. Honestly, I’ve always been a sweater weather girl. I love these fall nights by the fire whether that’s indoors or out.
Most mornings when I wake, Duke has already been up for hours as he progresses through his usual routine on the ranch. He does sleep in with me on Saturdays so I can revel in waking up next to his beautiful face. On this particular Saturday, I was surprised that Duke’s side of the bed is warm but empty. The smell of coffee hits me so I guess he just couldn’t sleep in this time.
I hear a grunt and the familiar pad of paws coming down the hallway. It’s Jameson, but instead of jumping up on the bed to shower me with sloppy kisses, he’s marching in slow with an object in his mouth. He comes to my bedside and sits as if he’s patiently waiting for something.
“What do you have there, buddy?” I ask.
Duke comes in a minute later holding two coffees. “Mornin’, beautiful.”
He hands me a steaming hot cup. I say thank you, but the look on my face gives Duke pause.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jameson. He’s acting strange and there’s something in his mouth.”
“Oh? Let’s see.” Duke comes to my side of the bed and kneels down.
Just to be sassy, Jameson moves his head to avoid giving up his prize to Duke. Eventually, Duke is able to wrestle it out of his slobbery mouth.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Not sure. Maybe when I get all the slobber off I can actually see what it is.” Duke wipes the object on his jeans and then inches closer to the bed. He doesn’t get up and stays on one knee. “Let’s see what this is.”
