Something shifts in her expression—less guarded now. “That sounds different than your thoughts in the barn,” she says.
“It is.”
“Why?”
I glance past her for a second, toward the paddock. Buddy stands there, watching. Still wary. Still uncertain. But closer than he was yesterday.
“Because I finally realized I’m doing the same thing to you that I hate seeing in them,” I say.
Her gaze follows mine, then comes back. “And that is?”
“Walking away before things have a chance to hold.”
Dakota studies me for a long moment. “Okay,” she says.
“Okay?” I repeat.
“Okay,” she says again. “We try.”
We try.
That’s enough. More than enough.
I pull her closer then, not rushed, not unsure, and kiss her like I should’ve from the start.
Not like it’s a mistake.
Like it matters.
Epilogue
LEVI
Buddy doesn’t flinch when I open the stall. He watches me with his ears forward and gaze steady.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I mutter, stepping inside.
Behind me, I hear her laugh. Dakota leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, sunlight catching in her auburn locks.
“You love him,” she says.
“I tolerate him.”
“Sure you do.”
I reach out, running a hand down the horse’s neck—solid and calm.
Different now, too.
She steps in beside me, close without hesitation now. She belongs here. She belongs with me.
“You’ve got a group coming in this afternoon,” she says. “Try not to scare them off.”
“No promises.”
She smiles, then glances toward the open barn doors where the ranch stretches out wide and bright.
“And why not?” She arches a brow, lips parting.
