Page 50 of The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband

Ciarán leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest, though his lips twitched with a smile. “Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

The path grew narrower as they passed the tree line marking the boundary of their property. Birds chirped lazily in the heat, and the faint rustle of the wind in the leaves was the only other sound. Graham stole a glance at Ciarán, who was gazing out over the fields, his expression soft and thoughtful.

“I’ll admit, though,” Ciarán said suddenly, breaking the silence, “there is something thrilling about it, isn’t there? The open air, the wildflowers, the—freedom of it all.”

Graham chuckled. “Now, don’t go tempting me again. You’re the one who just said we need to be more careful.”

“I know, I know,” Ciarán said quickly, his blush deepening. “I’m just saying—”

“That you’re not entirely against the idea,” Graham finished for him, his voice warm and teasing.

Ciarán sighed, but his smile gave him away. “Fine, yes. Just not when there’s any chance of someone stumbling across us. I mean it, Graham.”

“Message received,” Graham said, his grin widening. “I’ll make sure we’re alone next time.”

“Graham!” Ciarán’s laugh bubbled up, light and unrestrained, and the sound made Graham’s chest ache with affection.

The house came into view as the wagon crested the final hill. The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a golden glow over the land. Graham pulled the horses to a stop near the barn, and they set about unloading their purchases and supplies in companionable silence.

Later, as they sat together on the porch, sipping cool water and watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink, Ciarán rested his head on Graham’s shoulder. Graham wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

“You know,” Graham murmured, pressing a kiss to Ciarán’s temple, “I’d say today was just about perfect.”

Ciarán hummed in agreement, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Graham’s arm. “It was, wasn’t it? Even with our little… debate about outdoor activities.”

Graham laughed softly. “Well, as long as I’ve got you by my side, I don’t much care where we are.”

Ciarán tilted his head up, his eyes shining in the fading light. “I feel the same, Graham. Always.”

???

The evening air was soft and cool as it drifted through the open window, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and freshly turned soil. Dinner was quiet at first, punctuated only by the occasional clink of spoons against bowls as they ate. Graham savored the rich flavors of the chicken and dumpling soup, but his attention kept wandering back to Ciarán’s earlier words.

His husband sat across from him, his head slightly bowed, as though lost in thought. There was a nervous energy about him—his usual light chatter was absent, replaced by a pensive silence. Graham let it stretch for a moment, waiting for Ciarán to speak, but when the younger man didn’t, he decided to gently nudge him.

“You know,” Graham said, setting his spoon down and leaning back in his chair, “bringing your father here—he’d be lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Ciarán looked up, startled. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” Graham replied. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a big heart. Anyone can see that.”

Ciarán’s lips curved into a small, shy smile. He set his spoon aside, his hands folding in his lap. “I’ve just been thinking about him a lot lately. He’s getting older, and the work back home—it’s hard, Graham. Too hard for a man his age. And I think about how much he’s done for me, how he sacrificed so much so that I could—so that I could have a chance at a better life.” He swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. “It doesn’t feel right, leaving him there alone.”

Graham nodded, his expression softening. He’d heard bits and pieces about Ciarán’s father before—a man who had taught his son resilience and a strong work ethic, even in the face of hardship. It didn’t surprise him that Ciarán wanted to repay those sacrifices.

“I get it,” Graham said after a moment. “Family’s important. And if bringing him here is what you want, then we’ll make it happen.”

Ciarán’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “But what if it’s too much? What if it’s more than we can handle?”

Graham reached across the table, his calloused hand covering Ciarán’s smaller one. “We’ll figure it out. Together. Like we always do.”

Ciarán nodded, but there was still a shadow of doubt in his gaze. “It’s not just the money,” he admitted. “I worry about how he’ll adjust. America’s so different from Ireland, and he’s not...he’s not as young as he used to be.”

“That’s why he’ll need you,” Graham said firmly. “And he’ll have both of us to help him settle in. He’s your family, and that makes him mine too.”

The words seemed to lift a weight off Ciarán’s shoulders. He squeezed Graham’s hand, his grip warm and steady. “Thank you,” he said softly. “You always know how to make things feel possible.”

Graham chuckled. “That’s what husbands are for, isn’t it?”

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