Page 68 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

My eyes meet Clint’s across the rug, and he touches my face tenderly. Jesse presses kisses between my shoulder blades, and Maverick, who has dropped to his knees next to us, strokes my hair away from my face.

“Holy shit.” Jesse’s still shifting inside me with languid strokes. I’m boneless and weak but vital and strong. It was me alone who brought all these big, strong men to their knees. Any doubts I ever had about being at the center of their world have been blasted away.

“You’re ours,” Jesse whispers. “Ours forever.”

“Ours,” Clint agrees, shifting so he can kiss me. He meets my gaze with a fierce intensity that makes me want to cry.

“Ours,” Maverick says, linking his fingers with mine and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“I love you,” I tell them all through a throat so tight with emotion that it sounds squeaky. I’m covered with more kisses as each of my cowboys moves closer.

“We love you, too,” Jesse says, kissing the tip of my nose.

“I think this is one of those times when you gotta let us speak for ourselves, man,” Maverick says with a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, Jesse. I might not be the world’s best conversationalist but this woman’s my wife. I’m capable of telling her I love her without your help.” Clint strokes my face. “I love you, baby.”

“Yeah, muffin. I love you. You know that, right?” Trust Maverick to check that I’ve absorbed his words.

“I know,” I say, losing the battle against my joyful tears.

This journey of life sure is a crazy one, but I’m certain of one thing. All the bad times have swept me into the place I was always meant to be. Three rugged cowboys have lassoed my heart and shown me how to let down deep roots that will keep me grounded next to them. And no matter what else life throws at us, we’ll face it together, forever.

EPILOGUE

JESSE

DREAMS COMING TRUE

One year later

“Are you sure this is the place?” I ask Taylor. She squints at her phone, eying the unfamiliar map with a deep furrow between her brows. She glances around, reading all the names above the shop doorways and cafes.

“It’s up here.” She points further up the cobbled Seville street. It’s reserved for pedestrians only, and colorful three-story buildings sprout up on each side, casting the road into shadow. We’re used to the heat, but somehow, being in a city means there’s less breeze and more of a closed feeling wherever we go. “Aren’t these buildings amazing? I mean, just look around.”

I do, finding distinctive architecture wherever I look. The buildings are painted in a mix of pastel colors, and the doorways are framed with Moorish-style tiles. Taylor explained that this part of Spain was once ruled by the people from Morocco, and they left their mark on the style of architecture and decoration. Brightly painted wrought Iron balconies lean over us, crowded with plants that spill between their spindles. Tiny shops containing souvenirs, cakes and pastries, candy, and cured meats and cheeses, are open and inviting. Ahead, a small cafe with metal tables and dainty wooden chairs comes into view.

My heart hammers in my chest. I can’t believe I’m really here. I can’t believe that my ex-wife agreed to let me see Kai and spend time with him after all these years. I can’t believe that Taylor managed to arrange all of this for me.

I grab her arm, uncertain, needing a moment to compose myself. We’ve walked so much today, and the newness of the environment has made me feel like a fish out of water.

“What if he doesn’t come?”

Taylor touches my cheek, her warm eyes seeking to give me the reassurance I need. “He’s coming,” she says. “I know this feels big. It is big. But you’re going to be fine. Take it one step at a time.”

I swipe my hand through my hair, missing my hat. Taylor forced us to leave the cowboy back home. Now, I’m just your average American visiting Spain. Yeah, right.

She slips her hand into mine and walks slightly ahead, her nose held high and eyes wide as she cranes to see if she can see my son. We spot him at the same time and squeeze hands simultaneously. I can’t believe it’s really him.

It’s like I’ve gotten in a time machine to look into a mirror. He’s a me from the past but dressed in gray, narrow-legged joggers, a fitted white t-shirt, and some crazy colorful sneakers that Europeans seem to love. Our eyes meet, and the spark of recognition that zings between us is animal. I know him. He knows me. We share blood, and it sings like a country melody I know in my core, but I’ve never heard before. I drop Taylor’s hand as he rises to his feet. He’s still a teenager, but he’s over six feet tall and broad, too. “Kai.” My voice sounds strangled. Emotion wedges in my throat like a fist.

“Dad.”

I almost drop to my knees hearing that word.

Without thinking, I pull him into a fierce embrace, finding his form unfamiliar, but how he smells like family. Jesus, he smells like my nephew underneath the expensive ocean-scented cologne he’s wearing.

We pull back, our eyes searching unfamiliar faces and finding familiarity. “It’s good to see you, son.”

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