Mine Would Be You: A Bad Boy Rancher Love Story (The Dawson Brothers Book 3)

by Ali Parker

  He took a deep breath and got down on one knee, popping open the box. “Abigail Brock, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  I stared down at him in surprise, my hand creeping up to cover my open mouth. For a moment, all I could do was stare, mesmerized, at the ring. The band was thin but intricate, antique-looking with tiny diamonds poking out here and there. “Mason, it’s beautiful,” I said.

  Mason grinned. “David and Sarah brought it all the way from Nashville,” he said. “One of Sarah’s friends is a jeweler.” He paused, “But I’m still waiting for an answer.” His tone was teasing, but I could still see how serious he was, looking deep into his eyes.

  Something inside of me was still scared. That something that insisted that Mason and I still hardly knew one another, that this was all happening far too soon. That something that insisted we should have a plan figured out before we decided to get married. That I couldn’t just take him away from his family, drag him back to Charleston to live out my dreams.

  But there was something else inside of me that knew Mason had already thought all of this through. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. He knew there was a possibility that I would return to North Carolina, and he was prepared to follow me there, if that was what it took.

  And that made me feel incredibly special.

  At the same time, I had been thinking about staying there in Oklahoma. I loved Cami and my friends, and that job that she had gotten for me was a dream come true. But all the same, I knew I had opportunities here in Oklahoma as well. Different opportunities, maybe, but ones that would make me happy, all the same. I had gotten used to life on the farm, waking up early and getting breakfast on the table for Mason, Jeff, my grandparents, and the other workers.

  I wanted to stay there with my grandparents, if I could. They could use the help, and I wasn’t ready to commit them to a nursing home, not when I could stay there to take care of them.

  Things weren’t always going to be easy, I knew that. If our family farm wasn’t going to be a functioning farm for most of the year—if we focused mainly on the harvest festival and maybe some sort of a summertime festival as well—we were going to have to budget carefully. And grow a lot of corn.

  But I was willing to work through all of that, especially with Mason’s strong presence by my side.

  Still, there were practical reasons why this wasn’t a good idea. I sighed and shook my head, “Your family hates me,” I pointed out.

  “They do not,” Mason said, rolling his eyes. “I know that lunch didn’t go well, but Mama and Lauralee both loved you. And Daddy and Ted like you well enough, they were just worried they were losing me at the busiest time of the year. They thought you didn’t realize how much work I needed to do over there. Now that things have calmed down and they’ve gotten used to the idea of me not being around all the time, things have been better. They wanted to have you over to dinner again, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you right now, while everything’s been so crazy with the harvest festival. I know you’re exhausted.”

  I frowned and glanced over at Sarah. “You must think I’m an idiot, after before.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “I know the kinds of things you’ve heard about the Dawson boys. I heard them all when I first came into town, too. I’m just glad you listened to his side of the story.”

  I grimaced. “But I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions in the first place.” I looked anxiously back at Mason. “I should have trusted you. I should have known that you weren’t going to sleep with someone else, especially not right upstairs where I could find out about it. You’re not that kind of a guy.”

  Mason shrugged, “Like you said, things have been tenuous between us. Neither of us was really committed to a relationship. Between everything with Ella back at the start and then the question of you returning to North Carolina after the end of the harvest season. And we’ve been working so hard on the farm. I know we haven’t really had time to explore each other, to really get to know one another. And I know all of that scares you.

  “But I’m not going anywhere, Abi. I’m right here. I’m going to be right here next to you for as long as you’ll let me. I’ve thought it all through, I’ve made my decisions. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks now, since before the harvest festival even opened. And I knew, right from the start, that I wanted this. I told you one morning that if you wanted to stay, even if the festival didn’t work out, that I would support you. And I meant every word of that.

  “I know you have all your excuses. But I don’t care about any of that, Abi. I want you. We’ll learn to trust one another. We don’t have to get married right away if you don’t want to either. We can drag out the engagement for as long as you’d like, until you feel like you know me and trust me well enough. But I want you to know that I can’t picture my life without you, and I know we have a great connection. I know that somewhere in there, you feel the same way. You feel this incredible connection between us too.”

  Staring at him for a long moment, I wondered how he could be so sure. Of course I felt the connection between the two of us. It was impossible to ignore. It was exactly what kept drawing us back together—every time I convinced myself that I shouldn’t be with him anymore, And every time I convinced myself to take that job in North Carolina.

  I wanted him. I loved him. It was that simple.

  Could I picture a future with him? I could. We’d take over my grandparent’s house. He’d move in with me, in the main house, rather than staying in the apartment above the barn. Every morning, we’d wake up early, tangled together in the sheets, and he’d brush my hair back and give me a soft kiss. I’d get up and make breakfast, then spend the day planning different events there at the farm. Wedding packages, maybe. Birthday parties. Rustic chic was so popular, there had to be a bunch of ways we could cash in on that. I could plan my events, and he could split his time between our farm and the Dawson farm.

  We’d spend our nights on the front porch, watching the stars. In the winter months, we’d be in the living room next to a roaring fire. Over time, I’d get to know him better than I even knew myself. And he’d know me in the same way.

  I felt a slow smile spread across my face, echoed by an answering smile on Mason’s. “That’s a yes, isn’t it?” he asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak. My breath caught as Mason got to his feet, slipping the ring on my finger before pulling me into his arms and kissing me soundly.

  “We’ll get married in May,” I told Mason. “A trial run for the other weddings that I’ll organize here on the Brock Farm during the summer months, before the next harvest festival.”

  Mason grinned at me. “I love the way your mind works,” he said. Then, he bent down and kissed me again, deeply and passionately, and I had to wonder why I had ever hesitated.

  Epilogue

  Mason

  I sat on the couch in the living room at the Dawson farm, noting all the little changes that had happened over the last year since I’d met Abi. There were photos on the mantle of all of us together over Christmas, plus the little painting on one wall that Abi had given to Mama on her birthday. I smiled at the familiar rolling fields—it was the view from the back porch of our home at the Brock farm, with Mama and Daddy silhouetted on the porch swing in the foreground.

  Glancing at my watch, I wondered where Abi was. We were having a celebratory dinner that night, I’d been told, although I couldn’t imagine what for. When I’d arrived, I’d learned that Abi and Mama had been in the kitchen for most of the day, with some help from Lauralee as well, when she wasn’t helping out around the farm. But rather than let me help, Abi had pushed a beer into my hand and then shooed me out to the living room to wait.

  I smiled, thinking back over the past year. Things had been great between Abi and I, though I’d been a little worried that the sparks would fizzle eventually. That we’d start to learn one another’s obnoxious quirks and end up breaking off
the engagement. Or that her fears would take over and she would run off back to North Carolina without me.

  But none of that had happened. Instead, the more I got to know her, the more I liked her. She had a wonderful sense of humor, and was so focused on what she wanted from her future. And I never got tired of having her in bed with me.

  We had built a life together. I’d constructed a small chapel on the Brock family farm, finishing it just before our wedding. Since then, we’d held a number of weddings there, with Jeff at times, whenever he was back in town, which seemed to be pretty often ever since he’d started dating Erica. People came from all over the country to get married at the farm, drawn in by the beautiful details that Abi added with each successive event.

  In fact, we were looking to expand, at this point. But we were waiting until spring so we could break ground on a new chapel, rather than modify the one that we had gotten married in. We would keep that little chapel forever, even if we didn’t host that many smaller weddings. It was part of our history.

  Before building the new chapel, though, I wanted to break ground on our house, the house I would build for Abi. Right now, we were still living in the apartment over the barn, which gave us a little privacy away from her grandparents. As lovely as Nana and Grampa were, it was nice to have our own space. Plus, then Jeff had the run of the house whenever he came back.

  I had been compiling ideas for the house for a while now, adding in all the little details that I knew Abi wanted—a big front porch, huge windows in the kitchen, and enough bedrooms for a couple of children. Okay, Abi and I still hadn’t totally agreed on the last part. We both wanted children, but neither of us was really sure how many or when. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a couple extra rooms.

  Smiling to myself, I thought about all the rough sketches I’d done. I could hardly wait until the spring to get started. I already knew every detail, down to the wood that I was going to order for the hardwood kitchen floors and the color I was going to paint our bedroom.

  But there were plenty of other projects as well. Abi had mentioned putting in a reception hall, rather than holding all our receptions out in tents or, when the weather was nice, under the stars. I didn’t really understand why she was so set on that, given that our reception under the stars had seemed utterly magical, the perfect cap on the perfect day. But I supposed having a real reception hall would mean that we could hold events year-round, without having to worry about heating the tents.

  I wondered if that reception hall had anything to do with this celebratory dinner we were having tonight. Maybe Abi had gotten the plans drawn up and wanted to show them to me. Even though we’d wait until the spring to build that, too, it was exciting to continue expanding what we did on the farm.

  It had been another successful year at the harvest festival and zombie haunt, too. Since we’d gone into planting season knowing what we’d be doing in the fall, we’d been able to customize things for the festival, planting even more pumpkins and corn, plus trying our hand with apple orchards and a couple other specialty fall crops. We’d made even more money than we had the previous year, and people were still showing up in droves for hayrides and family photos.

  Before I could think about it all any longer, Abi poked her head around the corner. “Hey,” she said. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Come here, you,” I said, drawing her into my arms and kissing her soundly. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  Abi blushed and ducked her head. “You don’t even know what the surprise is yet,” she said.

  “Go on and tell me,” I said. “Don’t make me wait to find out with everyone else.”

  Abi pulled away from me, still grinning. “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re going to have to wait. I wanted everyone to find out together.”

  “All right,” I grumbled playfully, following her into the dining room, where everyone was already seated at the table.

  I sat down and we passed around the dishes, grabbing what we wanted off each of them. I listened to Abi chatting with Lauralee about all the latest gossip she’d overheard at Kinsey’s, and to Ted and Daddy talking about the upcoming week on the farm and all the things that still needed to get done before winding down for the winter. David and Mama talked about David’s upcoming music tour, now that he’d finally put out his first album, which had shot up the country music charts in the first week.

  All through the meal, I kept expecting Abi to say something, to spill the beans, but she kept her secret until after we had devoured Mama’s homemade apple pie.

  “As everyone knows, there’s a reason I wanted everyone to be here tonight,” she said, looking around the table with a small smile on her face. “David and Sarah, I’m really glad you were both able to be here, too!” She grabbed a tube from the buffet and handed it to me proudly.

  I grinned, knowing that it must be the plans for the reception hall. She was adorably excited about them, and I wondered just what she had in store for the place.

  But when I unrolled them, there was an even bigger surprise. On a small piece of paper tucked into the middle of the plans, I saw she had written, in her neat rounded handwriting, ‘Congratulations – you’re going to be a daddy!’

  I dropped the reception plans back into the tube, the smaller piece of paper clutched tight in my fingers. Staring blankly at that piece of paper for a long minute, I then looked up at her, my face breaking into the widest smile I’d ever felt. “You’re serious?” I asked her.

  She nodded, looking pleased at my reaction. Then, she gave a pointed look around the table. “Mason, do you want to share the good news with everyone else?”

  “Guys, I’m going to be a dad!” I said, enthusiastically.

  My brothers cheered, and I could see tears in Mama’s eyes. But I only had eyes for one person at that table—my beautiful wife, the mother of my unborn child. I got to my feet and pulled her up into my arms, holding her tightly. “Abi, that’s amazing,” I told her. “That’s absolutely amazing.”

  I could already imagine her as a mother, holding a squalling infant in her arms. She’d be the most patient mother in the world, whatever that little baby threw at her. And I’d be right there beside her, every step of the way.

  I laughed and shook my head. “I guess I’d better get to work on our new house, as soon as it warms up again!"

  “Yeah, what were you waiting for?” David teased. “You should have had that thing finished by now!”

  “Maybe I expected you or Ted to have children first,” I teased.

  “Nah, we’ll let Abi show us all how it’s done,” Lauralee said, her eyes twinkling. “She’s going to make the best mom.”

  “She is,” Mama agreed, wiping tears from her eyes and coming over to kiss both Abi and I on the cheeks. “I’m so proud of you two. With everything at the Brock farm and now this.”

  “I guess we’ll have to talk about how this will affect your work here,” Ted said. I scowled at him, ready to ream him out for ruining the moment, but then I saw that he was hiding a laugh. I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, congratulations,” he said. “You’re going to be just as great a dad as Abi will be a mom.”

  “Thanks,” I said, giving him a hug. I was glad to have mended the fences between us over the past year. Things were good between us again. In fact, at that moment, with the love of my life there at my side, pregnant with my child, and my loving family all around us, I couldn’t have been happier.

  The next generation of the Dawson family was on the way, and my whole life was now complete.

  The End

  Author Note: Hope you enjoyed the book. My last on in The Dawson Brothers’ Series is due out this summer. I have included a billionaire story as a thank you for picking up my book.

  Billionaire Pleasures

  Chapter 1

  Elon

  Pleasure is the flavor of life. The thing that keeps us moving, going, striving for our next chance encounter with it.

  I gripped the shaft o
f the golf club tightly, staring down at the ball on the tee. I felt like I was out of practice since most of my meetings were held in fancy restaurants these days and not on the golf course. Things had changed from when my father was in business, and I had to say I liked it a lot better out here in the fresh Illinois sunlight. I was out on the course with a potential client for the company, and I wanted to impress him. I made sure to tilt my wrist slightly in order to slice the ball, not wanting to show him up. He was the kind of guy who wanted to feel superior, important even. I pulled back and swung, following through with my eyes on the ball. It went exactly where I wanted, across the fairway, bouncing off one of the trees on the edge and landing deep in the rough.

  “Aw, man.” My client patted me on the shoulder. “That’s tough luck.”

  “Hey, at least it stayed out of the sand trap this time.” I laughed.

  “True. I was starting to think it was purposeful.”

  “Maybe I really miss the beach,” I joked.

  “You’re telling me. I just got back from seven days in the Bahamas.”

  “Well, I can promise you, my company is a lot better at handling marketing than I ever will be on the golf course.” I chuckled.

  We loaded up in the golf cart, and I drove us to our balls, watching him take his second shot on to the green of the eighteenth hole. I clapped and nodded, showing I was impressed, trying to fight the urge to show him up a bit. He got back in and stuck out his hand.

  “I’m sure you’ll handle my business marketing with kid gloves,” he said, shaking my hand.

  “You can count on it,” I said with a smile.

  We played out the last hole and went into the clubhouse to turn in the golf cart. I had him hooked like I’d wanted. I may not be good at many things, but when it came to handling clients, my charm and candor always hooked them. This guy was one of the biggest accounts in years for Truitt Marketing, and my success today was going to please the board. I had formed my company early on, and it had grown over the years with fervor. We specialized our marketing to luxury companies, ones that sold to the rich consumers things like jewelry, luxury vehicles, million dollars homes, and couture clothing lines. It was specialized, but that was good because our clients knew we had a handle on the life of the rich and famous. When I got into the business, I never thought it would explode like it had, but there were downfalls, too, which was why I was out there on a balmy day in Chicago, pulling in clients.