Page 89 of A Cowboy in the Streets

“Give it to me. I’ll help her drink it,” I said, taking the cup from Essie.

James’s head jerked up. “Like hell you will. I need every last drop to alleviate my mortification.”

“Burgers are ready!” Dad announced.

We joined the small throng around the picnic tables we had set up for the occasion. Watermelon was the star of the day, but we also had piles of grilled corn on the cob, potato salad, and mac and cheese. We loaded our plates like it was our last meal.

“Try some watermelon salad, Dad,” Ben suggested. I didn’t miss the eagerness in his voice.

He had made that salad—my mom’s salad—with James this morning, a couple hours before the event. Mom had always insisted the watermelon be ice cold, and Ben took that seriously. He took everything seriously, but I worried slightly less about it these days. He was surrounded by love, and he cared deeply about people. That was a good thing.

Even if it sometimes hurt.

I couldn’t protect him from that. I couldn’t shield him from pain. Hell, I couldn’t even shield him from my pain.

But I could show him joy. Because life was both, and it was important to recognize the good when we had it. To not be afraid of it.

I speared a bite of watermelon, feta, mint, and blueberry onto my fork. Ben watched me, his eyes wide.

“Did I get it right?” he asked. “Like Grandma?”

I swallowed the watermelon along with the sudden lump in my throat. “You got it perfect. Just like Grandma.”

He grinned, first at me and then, triumphantly, at James. And shit. Shit. I wasn’t going to cry over watermelon.

I grinned back. At Ben. At James. Feeling so damn full. “If this isn’t nice, what is?”

Epilogue

James

One Year Later

I stared up at my cabin—now nearly twice its original size—and squealed with delight. “Can I go inside?”

“Sure. We didn’t change the locks, so your key still works,” Adam said.

It had been one month since I had arrived home after a weekend camping trip with Adam and Ben to find my darling cabin flooded. A pipe had burst while we were gone, leaving several inches of water soaking the wood-beamed floors. Ted had taken the opportunity to update the cabin with an additional bedroom and modernize the kitchen and bathroom a bit. Over the past month, Adam, Ted, and Brax built the addition—with occasional help from Zack—and I moved temporarily into the big house.

Finally, it was done. I could move back home.

Thank god. As much as I loved curling into Adam’s warm body every night, I was one hundred percent done with living out of a suitcase.

I gasped as I stepped through the doorway. The cabin still had that rustic vibe I loved so much, but with modern finishes and conveniences. I squealed again and threw my arms around his neck, peppering his cheek with kisses.

“You haven’t seen the rest of it yet,” he said gruffly. “You might hate it.”

I laughed. “I’ll love it,” I promised.

For some reason, that seemed to irritate him. “Yeah. Probably.”

“You made me pick out paint colors, cabinets, and the tile in the bathroom. Everything is exactly my taste. You made sure of that. How could I not love it?”

I peeked into the bathroom and shrieked with joy. “A bathtub! You didn’t tell me you were putting in a tub. I can’t believe you did that.”

“You wanted a tub.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his lips twitching in a quick smile. “You can still use mine whenever you want, though.”

I smirked over my shoulder. Sharing a tub soak after Ben went to sleep, talking over our day as we soaped each other’s bodies, had become a nightly ritual for us this past month. I was going to miss it when I returned to my cabin. A lot.

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