Page 75 of Cowboys & Protective Ways

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Six monthslater

Ian jumped down from his horse and handed off the reins to one of the stable hands. He pulled his jacket tighter. A chilly breeze ruffled his hair and tugged at his hat. He slipped off his leather gloves and strode toward the house, patting his jacket pocket to make sure the small box was still there.

He’d been holding on to the ring for a whole week, waiting for the perfect moment to ask Jessica to marry him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Ian neared the house, finding Brock sitting on a porch step. His brother seemed to be staring at the dirt at his feet. Ian slowed, coming to a stop in front of him. “How’s it going?”

Brock glanced up at him and shrugged.

Grunting, Ian settled onto the step beside him. “Can I ask you a question?”

Brock mumbled something Ian didn’t understand.

“How did you know it was the right time to ask Madison to marry you?”

Brock huffed. “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask for relationship advice.” He shot a look at Ian who had pulled out the ring box. Brock let out a soft curse. “You’re really gonna do it, aren’t you?”

Ian fiddled with the box in his hand, letting the modest diamond catch the light. His gaze cut to his brother. “What if she says no?”

Snorting, Brock shook his head. “That woman loves you. There’s nothing forcing her to stay, and yet she’s living here—on a ranch—surrounded by smelly animals. Not only that, but she makes you your favorite pieevery single weekend.” He emphasized the last three words. Brock let out a sigh. “Take my word for it. She’s not going anywhere.”

He got to his feet and clapped his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Congratulations.” His brother shoved his hands in his pockets and took a few steps before he stopped and turned around. “Just don’t mess this up. You won’t find anyone better than her.”

The pained smile on Brock’s face tugged at Ian’s heart. Guilt tugged at Ian. He was getting his happily ever after, but meanwhile Brock had lost his. From what Ian could tell, the pain was still fresh. Ian looked down at the ring in his hand. Life was short. There might never be a perfect moment to ask Jessica to marry him.

He shot to his feet and strode inside. The house smelled like apple pie and cinnamon. Ian grinned and headed for the kitchen. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, watching Jessica roll out more pie crust. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and she was covered in flour.

Jessica glanced up at him. “Hey, handsome.” She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, spreading flour across it. “How is the herd? Is everyone being nice to Apple Pie?”

He chuckled, keeping the ring box behind his back. “Apple Pie is just fine.” He gestured to the three pies she had cooling on the table. “What’s with all the pies?”

She grinned. “For the festival in two weeks. I’m trying out a few recipes for the pie-making contest.”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “That’s hardly fair, don’t you think?”

Jessica paused, her rolling pin in one hand.

“You know, because your pies are the best in the county. It wouldn’t be fair for you to enter.”

She scrunched her face at him. “Ha ha. I think you’re just partial to my cooking.”

He pushed away from the doorway and wandered toward her. His hands had started trembling, but he kept them hidden. “You’re right about one thing. I’m partial to you.” He walked up behind her, slipping the ring box into his jacket pocket.

Ian brushed her blonde hair from her neck and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her head. She sucked in a breath and leaned against him. “I love you, Jessica.”

A soft murmur escaped her lips.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side.”

“Mmm. I like that idea.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. Brock was right. This woman loved him; he had no doubt about it. Ian released her, stepping back and allowing her to return to her task. He pulled out the small black box and flipped it open. The diamond ring winked at him, and he grinned. Slowly he lowered himself onto one knee. “Jessica?”

“What?”

“Jessica.”

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