Page 53 of My Cowboy Salvation
Since I first heard him declare his love for me to Parker out in the hall, I’ve been wanting to jump out of bed and throw my arms around him and tell him how much I love him, too. But his conversation with his son was private, meant between the two of them only, and it wouldn’t have been right to interject.
Besides, I needed to hear him say those words to me.
So as he came back in, musing over his conversation with Parker, a conversation that went better than I could have hoped, I’ve been lying here, waiting, wondering if he was going to tell me his feelings… or push them aside and me along with them.
He loves me. He loves me, just as I’ve suspected and hoped over the past few weeks. And he wants to know if I still want him.
Silly man.
I squeeze his hand and draw him closer. “Want you? I can’t imagine walking out of this place without you by my side, Logan McCall. I can’t imagine even going on with my life without you there beside me. I thought music was the most important thing in my life until you came into it. My love for you eclipses everything else, heaven help me. I love you, and I’ll always love you, and I’ll be right there alongside you, fighting for us.”
The tenseness in his face melts away, and his eyes brighten with hope. “I’ll be there for you, Dylan. Whatever you need, from now on. If you want to return home to San Francisco and your life there, then that’s what we’ll do. My future is your future.”
Return to San Francisco. It’s possible now, I realize. I could return to grad school, return to the career I was building before I let Simon sidetrack everything. But that was my past life. For the first time, I’m seeing a new path, a new future.
“You’re taking me home,” I say, staring up into his beautiful deep blue eyes. “But not to San Francisco. That’s my past. Castle Falls? You? You’re my future.”
“I’m your future,” he repeats, smiling now. He sits on the bed next to me and lifts his hand to wipe the tears from my face. “I like the sound of that.” Then he leans forward and presses his mouth over mine, softly, gently, like I’m a fragile toy.
With all the joy I’ve been restraining, I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss as I pull him toward me. He smells and tastes just as I remember, and I’m already itching to do a lot more things in honor of this moment. Things I couldn’t possibly do right here and now.
But with Simon permanently gone and out of my life, one thing we have now is time.
My life is my own again. And I’m going to make every minute of it worth it.
Epilogue
Logan
“You sure youdon’t have room for another slice of pie?” Dylan asks my son as she holds up the pumpkin pie tin sitting on the table, along with a pecan pie and fresh whipped cream, all of which she made herself.
Parker rests his hand over his belly. “I can’t eat another bite without exploding. But thanks.”
“Then you’ll take some with you,” she insists, getting up from the table to grab a plastic container. “Unless, that is, we can convince you to stay another night…”
“Maybe another time. I still have a long drive ahead of me if I’m going to make it to Burbank in time for Mom’s dinner tomorrow.”
Technically, Thanksgiving isn’t until tomorrow, but since my son had already made arrangements to have dinner with his mom and her new husband and his kids that day, it made sense for us to hold our dinner a day early, so we could spend the time with Parker. It actually works out well, since it allows us to accept the invitation for Thanksgiving dinner at the McCullough Ranch, something Dylan is looking forward to, since they’ve been so kind and generous to her over the past few weeks.
That’s what the holiday is about, after all. Spending time with the people you love and care about, and feeling gratitude for the blessings in our lives. I have a hell of a lot to be blessed about, starting and ending with this woman sitting here. A woman who, just this morning, slipped into the shower and let me do a number of dirty, pleasurable things to her.
You’d think I would have had my fill of her, the way we’re going at it like rabbits every day, but if anything, it only makes me want her more. She’s like a tonic, and I can’t get enough.
Even now, I’ve been imagining what it would be like to sit her on the counter and spread some of this fresh whipped cream over her most vulnerable spots that I will lick clean. All in good time.
It’s been more than three weeks since Simon Beaufort was killed and the full horror of his misdeeds brought to light—including the discovery of three sets of human remains buried thirty yards behind the infamous cabin in Redding. One set has already been confirmed to be Samantha Bailey, poor young woman. The other remains will, hopefully in time, be identified.
The media descended on Redding and then Castle Falls in the days that followed, trying to ferret out as many salacious details as they could from the police, the locals, and Dylan. After a lot of consideration, Dylan gave out one television interview to get her side out, so she could finally put the whole thing behind her.
That was almost a week ago and, for the most part, it’s done the trick. Most of the reporters have realized there wasn’t much left to report, and they’ve picked up and left town, leaving Castle Falls to return to the quiet, sleepy town it was before. Although there hasn’t been much sleep going on between the two of us.
“You’ll have to keep me updated with how your audition goes,” Parker says, referring to Dylan’s audition next week for a cellist position with the Kalispell symphony orchestra. “Not that I have any doubt you’ll blow them away.”
Dylan rolls her eyes. “I think you mean, break a leg. Have I taught you nothing?”
I smile at their antics, relieved that things are returning to normal since Parker learned about us. Not to say there haven’t been a few awkward moments, like when we said goodnight to him last night and went into my room together, or when he walked in the kitchen this morning right after Dylan and I finished stuffing the turkey and were doing a little necking by the sink. But that’s to be expected under the circumstances. I have high hopes he’s going to be back to visit us a lot more in the near future, where he’ll always be welcome.
About half an hour later, Dylan and I stand at the door and watch as Parker drops his bag and the stack of leftovers onto the seat next to him. “I’ll text you when I reach Burbank.”
