"I'm not going to make rules tomorrow," Maggie said. Her voice was drowsy, rough-edged. "I'm tired of rules."
"No rules."
"No rules." She pulled back far enough to look at me. Her eyes were soft in a way I was starting to recognize—post-Maggie. The version of her that only existed in the dark, in this cabin, in the aftermath. "But I'm also not ready for… for everyone to know. Not yet. I need time to figure out what this is before the whole ranch has opinions about it."
I slipped my fingers in her hair, playing with the soft strands, unable to stop myself. “Take all the time you need."
"You say that like it's easy."
"It's not. But it's yours." I brushed a strand of damp hair off her forehead.
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "I want you to stay tonight. The whole night. Don’t leave before dawn."
"Maggie—"
"I know. I know it's risky. But I'm tired of waking up to an empty bed." She traced her thumb along my jaw. "I want to wake up next to you. Just once. I want to know what that feels like."
I should have said no. Should have reminded her that the bunkhouse was full of ranch hands who'd notice if I wasn't in my bunk at five a.m.
But she was looking at me with those green eyes, bare and brave and asking for something she'd never asked anyone for, and I was not a strong enough man to say no to Maggie Blackwood when she finally stopped being afraid to want things.
"Then I'll stay."
Her smile—slow, real, luminous—was worth every risk.
We rearranged. Sheets pulled up, pillows adjusted, Maggie fitting herself against my side like she'd been doing it for years instead of hours. Her head on my chest. Her hand over my heart. One leg thrown across mine, proprietary, like even in rest she was making sure I couldn't leave.
"Jack?" Barely audible. More asleep than awake.
"Yeah."
"Thank you. For sitting on my porch."
I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. "Anytime."
"And for not knocking."
"I'll never knock."
A smile against my chest. "Infuriating."
"Always."
She was asleep in seconds.
I stayed awake a while longer. Not because I couldn't sleep—because I didn't want to miss this. The weight of her against me. The sound of her breathing. The moonlight through the curtains drawing silver lines across the quilt.
Sully was on the porch. I could hear him shift occasionally—the click of nails, the sigh of a dog settling deeper into rest. Guarding us both.
Tomorrow would be complicated. Tomorrow, she’d have coffee in the main house like every other morning with her mother's knowing looks and a breeding proposal that needed finishing and a ranch full of people who couldn't know what happened behind this door. Tomorrow, she might panic.
But tonight, she was here. Warm and real and mine.
And I wasn't going anywhere.
10
Maggie
