Page 104 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

More now than the first time I laid eyes on her at the rodeo. Back then she was flushed and fuming, with her curves poured into jeans that made my brain shut off.

Now I get all of her.

The sleepy version who pads barefoot through my kitchen in one of my flannels.

The focused version who organizes Penny’s bakery like a military operation.

The wild, passionate goddess who lets me love her until we’re both hoarse and wrecked and ruined in the best fucking way.

She’s mine.

And I’m hers.

But that doesn’t mean the shadow of the Rut isn’t still hanging over me like some goddamn axe waiting to fall.

It is.

Lurking behind every perfect moment, every laugh, every soft press of her lips to my shoulder.

But Arliss?

She chose me.

She knows what might happen, and she’s still here.

So I made myself a promise.

If this woman is brave enough to take a chance on me, then I’m going to spend every second showing her how much that means.

Gods willing, I get enough seconds to matter.

Having her around is weirdly natural.

Like my cabin was always meant to hold her presence.

She fits in so perfectly it makes me ache.

Her humming while she folds laundry. And blushing like crazy when I help and preen as I get to touch her panties.

Mine.

The way she restocks the coffee like it’s a sacred ritual.

How she drops a kiss on my cheek when I pass by like it’s nothing, when really, it’s fucking everything.

And now that she’s not working at Bob’s Bar anymore, thank every deity for that, she’s been helping out over at the Devil’s Food Bakery for Penny, handling scheduling and invoices like the badass she is.

She told me she feels a little restless.

That she doesn’t know what’s next for her, career-wise.

And gods, do I get that.

She’s had it rough.

Losing her mom young. Taking care of her Gramps. Sacrificing everything for the people she loves.

Arliss is a giver. A caretaker. A warrior in a pink lip gloss and ponytail.

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