Page 34 of Marrying the Billboard Cowboy

“We should go inside.” The words fell flat in the heavy silence.

Different words he should have said choked him, caught in his throat. Too much. Too needy. She didn’t want him, just the life he could give her.

Kaitlyn reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, a touch that seared straight to his soul. She held his gaze. “She didn’t deserve you. And I probably don’t either, but–“

He silenced her words with another kiss. Whatever nonsense Kaitlyn had been about to spout was exactly that–nonsense. If anything, it was him who didn’t deserve her. She was goodness and kindness and light. And he was nothing but a grumpy cowboy with a hardened heart.

Although, it was feeling a whole lot softer after just a few weeks with the amazing woman in his arms. It was a good thing he never planned to let her go. As long as she didn’t get any stubborn ideas about leaving on her own.

16

Kaitlyn listened with a smile on her face. The remnants of laughter and fiddles seemed to echo in Stetson’s voice as he recounted the whirl of dancers and the strumming of guitars at the barn dance. His small hands animated his tales.

“And Grandma gave me four cookies!” he confessed with a gleeful mischievousness.

“Sounds like you had a blast.” Zeke’s deep voice rumbled with a warmth that wrapped around her and their small huddle at the kitchen counter.

“Can you tuck me in tonight, Zeke?” Stetson’s question, innocent and hopeful, pierced Kaitlyn’s heart.

Zeke looked to her for approval, and she gave a small nod, though her throat was tight with emotion.

“Of course, I can, partner.” Zeke’s hand ran through the boy’s dark hair, a gesture so instinctive and tender it made Kaitlyn catch her breath.

“Good night, Mom.” Stetson grinned.

She leaned over the counter and kissed his forehead. “Night, sweet boy.”

She had always been the one to chase away the shadows of the night with bedtime stories and soft lullabies. But witnessing the bond between Stetson and Zeke, Kaitlyn felt an unfamiliar cocktail of emotions—jealousy at being passed over, yet profound gratitude that her son had found such a father figure in this man.

She retreated to the bedroom she shared with Zeke but tucked herself around the edge of the doorway to listen.

From her hidden vantage point, she watched her husband lift Stetson into his arms, the boy’s head resting on Zeke’s broad shoulder. They moved toward the couch, the gentle cadence of their footsteps a soothing rhythm in the quiet house.

“Mommy was really happy tonight.” Stetson’s voice floated from the living room, now just a tender murmur.

“Your mom is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met,” Zeke replied, his tone hushed and reverent. “She’s building a good life for you both here on Redemption Ridge.”

Kaitlyn leaned closer to the doorframe, the rough wood pressing into her palm. She strained to capture every nuance of their conversation, hanging on the words that colored the canvas of their future.

“Did you have fun dancing with her?” The curiosity in Stetson’s voice was tinged with something deeper, a hope she could hear behind the words.

“Your mom’s a great dancer.” Zeke chuckled softly, the sound rich with unspoken emotions. “Now, let’s get you settled for the night.”

Rustling sheets and the faint creak of the couch whispered through the crack in the door. Kaitlyn imagined Zeke’s strong hands pulling the blankets up, tucking the edges with care.

“Good night, Stetson,” Zeke murmured.

The room was quiet now, the excitement of the day fading away as Stetson settled into bed.

“Zeke?”

Stetson’s small voice broke through the silence, and Zeke’s footsteps paused.

“Yeah, little man?”

“Are we going to stay here forever?” Stetson’s question hung heavy in the air, revealing a depth beyond his years. His voice fell to a whisper with his next words. “You kissed Mommy at the dance.”

Her heart skipped a beat, a mix of fear and longing flooding her chest. She listened as Zeke moved back toward the couch. A quick peek around the doorframe showed him sitting on the arm with a hand running down his face as if trying to gather his thoughts.

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