Page 240 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

And then we’re moving at the same time.

I kiss her first because patience has literally never been my ministry.

Annie laughs against my mouth before kissing me back hard enough to steal the oxygen straight from my lungs.

Cody’s hands slide into her hair the second I pull away, kissing her slower, deeper.

Silas waits exactly three seconds longer than the rest of us.

Then he cups her face carefully and kisses her hard.

Outside, rain falls soft across Colter Creek.

Inside the municipal hall, surrounded by folding chairs and exposed corruption and the wreckage of the Harlan family legacy, we choose each other anyway.

Epilogue

ANNIE

I used to think safety would feel louder.

Like fireworks, dramatic movie soundtracks, somebody standing in front of me saying “congratulations, you survived.”

Turns out safety is quieter than that.

It sounds like horses shifting softly in their stalls before sunrise.

Like Cody humming absently while making coffee because he thinks nobody can hear him. Like Duke singing aggressively incorrect song lyrics while repairing fence posts. Like Silas sleeping deeply enough beside me that his breathing finally loses that razor-edge alertness he’s carried for months.

Safety sounds small. But after everything?

Small feels holy.

Snow dusts the mountains surrounding Ironwood now, bright against the winter sky. The ranch moves differently these days. Lighter somehow.

The investigations gutted half the corruption attached to Ironwood’s finances. Jake took a plea deal, Tessa disappeared to some gated coastal property with three lawyers and a victim complex, and while Vivian technically remains on the Harlan estate board, now she holds about as much real power as decorative parsley.

The shell companies collapsed publicly.

The acquisition investors vanished privately.

Nobody asks too many questions about that second part.

Ironwood survived.

The weirdest part is that somehow… I stayed.

At first everyone treated me like temporary weather. The accountant with blue hair. The outsider. The woman who walked into a financial disaster and accidentally adopted three dangerously attractive ranchers.

Now people knock on my office door without hesitation, ranch hands bring me coffee during audits, Betty Lou from town hugs me so aggressively every Sunday at the diner that I briefly lose circulation in my left arm.

Now the office contains framed photographs I took around the ranch because Duke complained the walls looked ridiculous

And maybe the biggest difference of all: I sleep through the night now.

Mostly.

Unless Duke starts snoring like a diesel engine. Or Cody starts stress-working at two in the morning. Or Silas decides clothes are apparently optional in winter and my brain short-circuits for entirely understandable reasons.