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It’s okay to go. To move when you need to run.
I want to go where no one can find me. End of the earth. End of the sky.
I didn’t come to be pretty. I came to do a job in man’s world and make money.
PERIOD MISS FALLON
I have to be sure. I have to make this count. I have to matter. No time for fear or doubt. Never again. And when it’s over? Will I be proud? Will I feel better?
Is this what I wanted? Did I get what I deserved? I took the risks. I made my choice.
“I go first. I go fucking first, Trouble, and don’t you forget it.” Die for her. Always.
A rage, lawless and cruel, rises in me. The cowboy in me. For her, I wanted to hurt someone. For her, I would.
He doesn’t have to say a word. It’s always been this way. He guides me, and I just know.
“Kid, I’m tellin’ you once. That woman’s my wife, and if you say one more word about her, I will fail you so fucking fast you’ll go back to your shitty hometown and work at your local burger dive.”
“It’s what you are, ain’t you? My wife.”
I don’t hate him. Not anymore. Maybe I never did.
Barefoot and beautiful and tan as buckskin. Barbwire dipped in gold. An angel with a busted halo.
Our first kiss. My destruction. They’re one and the same.
That’s what life’s all about, ain’t it? Strong whiskey and lovin’ a good woman? Suddenly, it’s all I want in the world.
“You come to me.” My words are harsh, demanding. “I take care of my wife. No one else.”
My girl. My fucking girl who pushes more times than she pulls, can soothe my broken soul with just one touch.
God, going through my highlights is making me want to read it again already
“Yes,” I say, knotting my hands in his shirt. “I want you.” “Good,” he says, his handsome face sobering. “Because if it ain’t you, Fallon, it’s no one.”
“You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “My.” Thrust. “Wife.”
Too many “my wife” moments to even count in this book, and you bet your perky little ass I swooned over every fucking one
It’s coming. The wave of realization, even as I fight against it. It’s him. It’s always been—and always will be—Wyatt Montgomery.
Fuck. I love him. I love Wyatt Montgomery. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so fucked.
That’s Wyatt. That’s why I love him. A wild ride I’ll stay on as long as I’m alive.
Wyatt and I—we don’t complement each other. Instead, we pair. Two halves. Synced heartbeats. Like those wild horses.
Never been a fuckup. All my life, I’ve been a cowboy. A man my friends and family can count on. A husband. A damn good brother.
I want to go somewhere where I can ride the sky.
This time, I go first. I love you.
“Cowgirl, I love you.” His voice shakes. “I’ve never loved anyone but you.”
“We got damn good lives to be lived. Together.”
“Anything,” Wyatt husks. “Anything you want. My life is yours. My love is yours.”
“I am not made to be still,” I tell him. “But I am made for you, Wyatt. I am made to be your wife.”
“Ride the sky, baby.”
I rip up in my seat and scream, “Long live cowgirls!” as Fallon rushes Lawless into the ring.
“Christ,” Ford grumbles, keeping a tight hold of Reese’s hand. “These women are scared of a damn spider, but they’ll punch a grown man in the face the minute they start drinkin’.”
The last thing I will do is cower to a man. Another man who only wants what isn’t his. Who wants to take. To hurt. Fuck that. I win.
YOU WIN
I love him in a way I don’t think I can ever name. I would have died for him. Over and over again. Soul desperate and feral.
“That,” Charlie says and points at the pasture, at Fallon and Ruby who walk arm-in-arm, “is what bein’ rich looks like, brother.”
“We’ve checked off bucket lists, buried bodies, broken bones, and this ranch is still standing.”
I meet the eyes of my brothers, pride in their expressions. Pride for the life we’ve made. The life we’ve earned. The women we love. It can’t get better than this.
“Long as I got you and your love, I’m a happy man.”
“I love you, Trouble,” I tell her, pulling her close. “For the rest of my damn days, it’ll always be you.”
