Page 88 of A Cowboy in the Streets

“So if you want another minute to think about your dad’s offer, that’s fine. Nothing has to be decided today. You’re mine, James. I’m yours. Everything else is negotiable.”

I shook my head. I didn’t need a minute. But the fact that he gave it to me anyway? Damn. I was falling more in love with him by the second. “Yesterday, I wished my parents had never shown up here, because it hurt so much when you told me to go. But right now, I’m glad I have a choice. Because it’s an opportunity to choose you. Over and over again, every day, I will always choose you. I’m glad you were a footnote in someone else’s happily-ever-after, because that’s what made you who you are today.”

“Yeah? And who is that?” he teased, but there was a pleading note in his tone that I would never ignore.

I rose up on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “My fairy tale.”

Chapter 36

Adam

It turned out there were lots of ways to eat watermelon, and most of them were good. There was my mom’s watermelon salad, served cold with chunks of crisp, ripe watermelon, fat blueberries, feta cheese, and mint. Grilled watermelon was unexpectedly tasty, especially after a bite of burger. Watermelon margaritas were a big hit. And, of course, there was always the old standby: eaten straight off the vine, sliced in thick, red triangles, the sweet juice running down your chin with every bite.

We tried them all one bluebird Sunday in early August.

Ben’s garden had supplied a bumper crop of watermelons. We celebrated by inviting all of our friends and family for a summer barbecue. My brothers both showed up—Zack swinging in from Texas, on his way to Idaho—and James’s friends Chloe and Hannah joined us as well. Essie was here, her smile a nuclear reaction to Brax’s scowls in her direction. One day, maybe someone would explain to me how they had gone from being high school buddies to…whatever this was.

But today wasn’t for airing grievances. Today was for family, friends, and fun.

I had given the ranch hands the day off to enjoy the barbecue. James and Ben had given me a hand with the early morning barn chores that came regardless of holidays or weekends. There were a thousand other chores I could have done as well, but James put a stop to that right quick. For the first time in only god knew how long, I took a full Sunday off.

I tried not to be personally offended when the world did not collapse around me.

Two strong, slim arms wrapped around my middle from behind. “Is this everything you dreamed it would be?” James teased.

I lifted my arm so I could pull her against my side. She came willingly, snuggling in beneath the crook of my shoulder. “No. I never let myself dream of this.”

She tipped her head back to stare at me. “You never let yourself dream of a family barbecue?”

She sounded more than a little surprised. I couldn’t blame her. My family ate together all the time every Sunday. A fact she was well aware of. But not like this.

No, it hadn’t been like this in a long, long time.

Never. It had never actually been like this, back when Emily had been the one at our family events. What I’d had with Emily was a shallow spring. Pretty and sweet, but barely deep enough to even get your boots wet. What I had with James was ocean deep. And shit, I was glad Emily had found the same thing, that she had been able to experience that kind of love before she died.

The miracle of that damn near knocked me on my ass. How had I gotten here, to a place where I was literally happy my ex-wife had found true love with another man? I looked down at the woman who had pushed me here, in spite of all of my kicking and screaming.

“I didn’t know how to dream of this. Of you. I thought I’d already had my shot at forever and didn’t deserve a second one.”

Her eyes looked like warm melted chocolate as she took that in. “Well, joke’s on you,” she teased, her voice suspiciously thick. “Because you’re exactly what I deserve. And I’m keeping you.”

It never ceased to amaze me that she said things like that. That we actually talked like this. Like sharing our vulnerable inner thoughts and feelings was completely normal. I lowered my lips to hers. “You damn well better,” I growled against her mouth. She giggled and her hand came up to touch my cheek.

I took that as permission to stretch the kiss a moment longer. Ben’s laughter floated above the cacophony of friendly chatter. Maybe that should have distracted me from James’s delectable mouth, but instead it made everything better. My kid was happy. James was happy. I was happy.

“I can feel you smiling,” James breathed between kisses.

I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “How could I not smile? I’m kissing you, buttercup.”

“Ugh,” she cringed, laughing. “That’s too sweet even for me. Give me back the grumpy cowboy who makes my panties melt.”

A feminine throat cleared behind us and James froze, bugging her eyes out at me. I turned to see Essie smirking at us.

“Let’s keep it PG, James. This is a family function. Here, try a watermelon margarita.”

James buried her face into my side and moaned.

I roared with laughter. Across the yard, my dad lifted his head from the burgers he was grilling. His gaze met mine. There was something about his expression that seemed to echo the feeling I’d had only moments before. Gratitude.

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