I suppress a laugh. "I'm glad you think so," I tease her, "but I did it for a reason."
She pulls back enough to look at me, eyes bright with interest. "Oh yeah?"
"Since we're partners now, in the horse business," I say, irritatingly giddy at the sound of those words, "I need to run something by you."
"Go for it," she says with a curt but confident nod. "I'm all ears."
"I want hire to him. To be our barn manager."
Her eyes narrow. "Hire him? As in, for a job? Like, we'll pay him?"
"Yep."
The thing I'm not saying starts to click into place for her. "Can we afford that?"
"Not yet," I say, the corners of my mouth twitching, eager to stretch wider. "But next month we can."
Her eyes go wide. "The ranch is turning a profit? Not just enough to cover the mortgage, but like, really turning a profit?"
"Has been for a little while now," I tell her. "I didn't want to say anything until I knew the steady increase each month was solid. That things we were trying weren't a fluke but will work long term."
"Long term."
I nod. "Yeah. If that's what you want."
"Is that what you want?" she turns the question back on me without answering.
"What did I tell you about asking me things?" I murmur, resting my forehead to hers. "If it's you, the answer is always yes."
"I want you to think about this. Really think it over. I can have my business and this. You can't run all those bars the way you did before if you're out here working horses every day," she argues.
"Who says I want to?" I counter, nipping at her bottom lip. "You think I'd choose going back to nights in a bar over nights in that barn with the horses? In this house with the kids? In this bed with you?" I twist my forehead against hers. "You're crazy. This is what I want, Liz. This is everything."
"Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She nudges my nose with the tip of her own. "But no more living in the barn. I want you here. With me. With the kids. Partners in everything."
"Deal." Then I kiss her one last time before I tug her off the bed, so we can throw on some clothes and go out to the barn.
We split up in the hall, each of us going to wake one of the kids. Neither of them bats an eyelash at finding both of us in the house so early. Nor do they question it when we announce we're going to do barn chores as a family. And no one is surprised when it's time for breakfast, and they call out the same request simultaneously.
"Biscuit Barn!"
EPILOGUE
Six Months Later
LIZ
The door to my studio is wide open, the noises made by human and horse alike coming from the barn below find their way upstairs almost as thoroughly as the various country scents do. The spiral staircase not only provides easier access for my models and clients, but also sound, and scented breezes. Not that I'm complaining. Not even a little.
Especially not since shifting my business from boudoir to cowboy shoots. Well, that's not how I market them. I use words like country chic and rustically warm and natural beauty, but it all means the same thing. I take pictures of people in jeans and boots and cowboy hats, the occasional summer or wedding dress thrown in the mix.
It's great. Not just because it keeps me around all the people I love, but because it allows me to share Serendipity with so many others. Same as we do on rodeo nights, which are still going strong. So much so, we're talking about adding an 'every other Tuesday night' to the calendar for regular roping practice.
We, as in me, Jovi, Cas and Crow. That's right. The ranch has grown so much we’ve been able to hire a barn manager and a second trainer. That's how magnificent my man is. He turned this blank slate draining money into a business that provides not only for our family, but two others as well.
