Page 157 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked for maybe the twentieth time since we had climbed into bed.

I smirked, tilting her chin up so she was looking at me. “I’m a bull rider, Cowgirl. I’m fine.” I leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose.

She huffed, but I saw the small smile ghost over her lips.

“Where do we go from here?”

I ran my good hand down her back, gripping her hip, pulling her in closer until her bare body was pressed tight against mine.

“You move in with me,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her temple. “Come to my ranch. Live with me. Help me build it.” I pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. “I’ll help you heal. I’ll be your number one cheerleader. Together.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more apologizing, Cowgirl.”

“One more time. For not telling you the whole truth. For being scared when you’ve always been there for me. For running away. For—” she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “For saying we could just be friends.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, we were never good at being friends, were we?”

“No. We sucked.”

“But everything else? We’re good at, Fable.”

Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears, but this time, they weren’t from pain. They weren’t from shame. They were something new, something that made my chest feel too damn tight.

“I’ll move in with you.” She swallowed hard, gripping my arm, her fingers curling into my skin. “I want to be yours . . . if you’ll have me.”

A slow smile stretched across my face as I shifted, wrapping her up in my arms, pulling her close while my cast rested over her.

I pressed my lips to her forehead, whispering, “You were mine before you even knew it. Before I ever touched you. Before I even had the right to claim you. You’ll be mine for the rest of our days, Cowgirl. Always.”

58

Fable

Six Months Later

“I can’t believe you’re actually moving into my old little guesthouse,” I said, hauling a plastic bin out of Harleigh’s truck and into the familiar space.

“When Kline asked me, I figured it was about time to get out of Dad’s house. Plus, it means we’ll be neighbors.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Can’t argue with that.”

Harleigh gazed out over the land toward the porch of my new house. The barn expansion was coming along, slowly but surely, to make room for more livestock, but for the time being, it was just Ginger out there, grazing under the setting sun.

I glanced down at the wooden planks beneath my feet, and for a brief moment, the memory of Mike standing here—demanding, pulling, trying to drag me back into his world—flashed through my mind.

I exhaled, shaking it off. “Hard to believe it’s been half a year since all that happened,” I murmured. “And the new circuit is about to start.”

“I can’t believe we’ve increased Kline’s sales by eighty percent,” Harleigh added.

I chuckled. “That too.”

Earlier in the day, we had our review with Kline. Technically, it marked the end of our contract, but neither Harleigh nor I was worried about losing our jobs and not having our contract extended. The Twisted Spur’s bulls had gone viral on social media this week after we posted a meme warning people about flu season—featuring a bunch of snotty, booger-covered bulls.

She studied me for a long moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “You know, you’re different.”

I raised a brow. “Yeah?”