Page 60 of The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband

“You’re hard at work,” Graham teased. “Got to take my pleasure when I can.”

Ciarán tolerated another kiss before gently pushing him away. “You can take me however you want when we go to bed,” he said, grinning.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Graham replied, his heart light with affection..

???

He decided to take Roisin for a walk around the ranch, a quiet patrol of the perimeter before he called it a night. The evening air was crisp, the last light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the fields. Roisin trotted happily at his side, his tail wagging in that way it always did when he was content, which was almost always. As they strolled, Graham’s thoughts wandered in a different direction—reflecting on how much his and Ciarán’s relationship had changed in the months since they’d married. It felt as if they’d stepped into a new life, one built on trust, love, and a comfort with each other that he hadn’t known was possible.

There had been a time when the simple act of holding hands had been enough to make them both blush. He recalled the awkwardness of those early days—the stolen glances, the bashful touches, the shared silences filled with unsaid words. They’d stumbled their way through those first few months, learning each other’s rhythms, finding their way. There had been misunderstandings, missed moments, but also laughter, tenderness, and patience. They’d spent more than a few nights tangled in the sheets, unsure of what they were doing but equally sure that they wanted to do it together.

Now, the intimacy between them felt natural, like breathing. Their touches were no longer hesitant but firm, full of assurance, of knowing. They didn’t need to fumble with their words or wonder if the other felt the same way. They simplyknew. The easy affection they shared had transformed into a deeper kind of love, one that was as comfortable as it was passionate. Graham grinned as he remembered the teasing that had happened just that morning in the kitchen, how Ciarán had playfully swatted him with the spoon after he’d kissed him, jam still on his lips. Once, they would have been embarrassed by such displays, but now, it was second nature. They were at ease with each other, even when the moments felt silly.

And then there was the physical side of their relationship. At first, the idea of being so intimately connected with another person had been daunting. They’d both been unsure of how to navigate those waters, not just physically but emotionally. But now, they had become so attuned to each other’s bodies that they moved together with a kind of effortless rhythm. They made love with the same ease with which they shared their thoughts or their smiles. It had gone from tentative to urgent, from quiet to loud, and sometimes, there were no rules—just the spark of desire and the comfort of knowing they were wanted.

Before Ciarán, Graham had a ranch. It was a simple life, one of hard work and solitude. He grew crops, raised livestock, and tended to the land with a steady hand. He’d been self-sufficient, driven by the need to provide for himself and for the small community he was a part of. He sold his goods in town, made enough money to live comfortably, and by the standards of most, he was considered prosperous. But prosperity, he realized now, had always been an empty word until Ciarán entered his life. Yes, he had a ranch, but he had no one to share it with. He had work, but no one to laugh with at the end of the day. He had the occasional visit from a friend or neighbor, but no one who stayed. It was a life full of tasks, but devoid of the warmth of companionship.

Now, Graham had everything he could have ever hoped for and more. He had friends—people who invited him to their homes for tea and long conversations, people who cared about him and his well-being. He had Roisin, the loyal guard dog who was as much a companion as he was a protector. He spent more time lounging by the fire or nestled into Graham’s lap than he did on actual patrol, but that was fine by him. And then there was the house. A house full of trinkets, knick-knacks, and the chaotic beauty of two people building a life together. There were jars of blackberry jam lining the shelves, a testament to the work they’d done together, the simple joys they’d found in making something from the fruits of their labor. The house was no longer just a building—it was home. It was their home.

And of course, there was Ciarán. Graham thought of his husband now, curled up in their shared bed, snoring peacefully, always with that half-smile on his face when Graham shook him awake in the mornings. Ciarán, who loved him with a depth he’d never thought possible, who made him feel seen and wanted every single day. Ciarán, who had given him a kind of love that had filled every empty space in his heart. No more loneliness. No more wishing for something more. He had it all now. The way Ciarán smiled at him, the way he spoke his name, the way they fit together so seamlessly, made Graham feel like the luckiest man alive.

“That’s prosperity,” Graham mused softly as he absently rubbed Roisin’s ears, his warm body pressing close to his side as they continued their walk. The last rays of sunlight cast a golden glow over the fields, the grass swaying gently in the breeze. In the distance, the outlines of the barn and the house stood silhouetted against the horizon. He didn’t need riches or fame. He didn’t need anything beyond this—this life they had built together.

His gaze drifted back toward the house, and he thought of Ciarán, waiting for him inside. The love they shared was enough to fill every room, every corner, every moment of their lives. He could still remember how it had felt to be a solitary rancher, alone with nothing but his thoughts and his work. But now, with Ciarán by his side, he knew he was truly prosperous.

And tomorrow, they’d wake up together, ready to face whatever the day had in store, because with Ciarán by his side, Graham knew there was nothing he couldn’t handle.

As Roisin gave a contented bark and wagged his tail, Graham smiled, the weight of his thoughts lightened by the simple truth of his life now. He wasn’t just a man with a ranch. He was a man who was loved, who loved in return, and who had found a kind of peace he never thought he would have. He had everything he needed.

That, Graham thought, was prosperity.

???

Their days were filled with work. Caring for the animals, tending to the crops, building an addition to the house. Ciarán took to construction with great enthusiasm—he wanted his father’s room to be absolutely perfect. Graham took to working alongside Ciarán on the project with similar enthusiasm, not only for the thought of how happy Ciarán would be when the room was finished and furnished, but also because Ciarán often took his shirt off while they worked. His husband made quite the sight, surrounded by sunlight, sweat pouring down his freckled chest, helping Graham hammer down the floor and put up the walls.

“You sure you never done this before?” Graham asked one afternoon as he brought Ciarán a bucket of fresh water from the well.

Ciarán dipped a tin cup in it and drank gratefully. Graham watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Thank you, Graham. And no, never. I had my sewing, and my secretarial training, but never…” He trailed off.

“Must just take naturally to this kind of work,” Graham said, smiling.

“Maybe I just have a good teacher,” Ciarán said. He dipped the tin cup into the bucket again and poured the water over his head. As he gave his damp curls a shake, water droplets rolled down to his stomach.

Graham grunted. “Huh.” Then he went to his knees and pressed his tongue to Ciarán’s skin, intent on licking up all the sweat and dust and water from his belly.

Ciarán shrieked—he was ticklish—and his laughter quickly became a scandalized cry. “Not here! Not here, Graham! Take me to bed—”

“All right.” Graham hauled him up and carried him back to their room, and dutifully took his husband to bed.

???

With the arrival of autumn—marked by the cooler, crisper breeze, the leaves turning vibrant shades of yellow, red, and orange—came Larkspur’s annual fair. It was one of the town's most anticipated events, a joyous celebration that bridged the seasons. A goodbye to summer’s lazy days and a warm welcome to the busy autumn months. It was a time for the whole community to gather together, before the chill of winter descended, to talk, to play, to eat, and to show off their year’s hard work.

Graham and Ciarán walked through the bustling town square, both of them soaking in the festive atmosphere. The streets were alive with colorful pennant flags fluttering in thewind, hanging from buildings and stretching from lamppost to lamppost. Flowerpots, overflowing with autumn blooms, lined the sidewalks, their bright colors adding to the vibrancy of the day. Everywhere they went, confetti rained down, thrown gleefully by children and adults alike, a symbol of the pure joy everyone felt. From the direction of the church, they could hear a lively band playing—though their enthusiasm outstripped their skill, the music had a charm all its own, adding to the day’s festivities.

They meandered from one vendor to another, often stopping to chat or buy something from the local sellers. They indulged in apple fritters, hot and sugary, their hands sticky with sweet glaze. They shared a paper cone of buttery popcorn, and enjoyed a small portion of tangy potato salad, the flavors dancing on their tongues. At one stall, Ciarán spotted a flower crown stall, and after a bit of bargaining, he bought them both crowns—one for each, made from delicate wildflowers and woven with dark green and blue ribbons. He laughed as they placed the crowns on each other’s heads, the simple gesture of wearing something so cheerful adding to the sense of joy.

A few stalls down, someone was selling handmade toys—simple wooden animals, dolls made from soft fabrics, and knitted creatures that looked like they were meant for cuddling. Ciarán’s eyes immediately landed on a patchwork puppy, stitched together from colorful scraps of fabric. Without hesitation, he bought it for Roisin, who had been a constant companion through thick and thin. Roisin would love it, he knew—he was always so gentle with the little things they gave him, his tail wagging in pure joy at any new toy.

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