by Liz Isaacson
“I talked to Cole, and he’ll…take a little longer to come around, but it isn’t because he doesn’t like you. It’s because there’s a lot going on in his life right now.” She nodded to the letter. “You should read it.”
Blake set it on the coffee table in front of him. “Later.”
“I love you,” Erin said. “So you can’t use me as an excuse. Or Jessica, or McKenzie, or Davy, or Cole. So that only leaves one person, Blake.” She touched his chest, fiddled with a button on his shirt. “You.”
Blake ducked his head again, and Erin trailed her fingers across his scalp. He shivered at her touch, causing her to smile. “I don’t want to give up on us,” she whispered. “So just tell me what the problem is, and we’ll figure it out.”
He raised his eyes to her and they were filled with agony. “Me, Erin,” he said. “I’m the problem.”
Confusion poured through her. She’d debunked the myth about Jessica. Spoken to her children. Gotten him to confess that he loved her. “How so?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to have a family,” he said. “Do you even think the five of us will fit in this cabin?” He gestured to the space around them. The living room held a couch and a loveseat just fine. The kitchen had a bar and a table—lots of places to eat. He had two bedrooms and a loft. A big, wide playground of land, streams, and hills for the kids. Even a dog.
“Of course we will,” Erin said, cradling his face in her palm. “I know I come with a lot.”
“You don’t just come with a lot,” he said. “Three kids, Erin. I have to know how to take care of them right now. No time to learn. No time to adjust. I’m terrified I’ll make a lot of mistakes.”
She smiled tenderly at him and put her other hand on the other side of his face. “Do you think I know what I’m doing? There’s no manual for this. And besides, you don’t have to do it alone.”
“You really think we can figure this out?”
Hope burst through her. “I know we can.”
“I love you,” he whispered just before touching his lips to hers.
Giddiness made her pulse race and her lips curve upward. “I love you too.” This time when he kissed her, it held all the old passion she’d felt in his touch before. Something new too, because she knew he loved her and she loved him.
Ten Months Later
“That mattress goes in the loft,” Blake said to Landon, who’d shown up first to help move Erin and her children into the cabin.
“This must be yours,” the tough cowboy said to McKenzie as he shouldered the toddler-sized mattress.
She grinned at him like he was a superhero. “Mama says I get my own bed now.” She traipsed off with Landon, where they entered the house together.
Blake looked in the fifteen-foot truck, overwhelmed as only a handful of items had been removed from it. He wasn’t sure how all of this stuff was going to fit into his thousand-square-foot cabin, but he kept his thoughts to himself as he went up the ramp and grabbed onto a lamp.
“Blake!” Davy danced out of the cabin, his face a picture of pure delight. “The bedroom is amazing. Even Cole said so.”
Blake grinned. “I’m glad you boys like it.” He’d spent the last three weeks remodeling it with new paint, new curtains, and a floor that would withstand two boys living in it. He’d downgraded his office and moved it into the bedroom he’d share with Erin once they were married.
Only one more day, he thought as she came out of the house wearing a smile the size of the Mississippi River. He hurried down the ramp and took her into his arms. “I missed you,” he murmured into her ear.
She tilted her head back, which only gave him better access to her neck, and laughed. “We’ve been gone for a week.”
Blake kissed her, cutting the contact short when he heard footsteps approaching from inside the house. He stepped back from Erin and met Cole’s eye. “Did you have fun in California?”
Cole grinned and bent down to pat Rosco. “It was awesome. Have you been to the ocean?”
“Couple of times,” Blake said.
“Mom says we can go again next year.”
“She did, huh?” He glanced at Erin. “Did she tell you where we’re goin’ after we get married tomorrow?”
“No.” Cole pouted and picked up a ball to throw for the dog. “She still won’t say anything.”
“Good.” Blake grinned. “Now let’s get this truck unloaded.” Cole and Davy were decent workers, and all the cowboys showed up in the next several minutes, making short work of the furniture and boxes in the truck.
The bunk bed got assembled, and Megan showed up with lunch, and Tess led the other ranch wives in helping Erin unpack more towels and sheets and clothes than Blake knew were required.
“So, where are you taking everyone tomorrow?” Landon asked as they stood on the front porch and watched the four boys that now lived at the ranch run down the dirt road, three dogs with them.
“Yellowstone,” Blake said. “Cole and Davy love to camp. They’re sleeping in a tent in Shirley’s yard tonight.”
“Is that where Erin’s staying too?”
“Yeah.” Blake watched her tuck her hair behind her ear, a rush of affection for her flooding him.
“So you’ll be a family tomorrow.”
The thought didn’t frighten him as it had for months. At some point, while the snow obscured the landscape, he’d found peace with being a father of three and a husband all on the same day. “Yeah.”
Erin came to the door and started to close it. “I’m getting out my wedding dress,” she explained. “No peeking. It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.”
Blake raised his hands in acquiescence, though he wanted nothing more than to see her in that dress because it would mean they were about to be married, and he’d been waiting for many long months for that.
The next day, Blake fidgeted like someone had lit the outside layer of his skin on fire. He scratched, he pulled on his tie, he paced until Walker came to get him. Once inside the chapel, the anxiety intensified. Erin wasn’t there, and neither were her children or her parents. Shirley and Johnny sat in the second row, along with Doug and his family.
Blake’s parents and siblings sat on the opposite side of the aisle, and Blake held his mom tight when she hugged him. “I’m so happy for you,” she said. He knew his brother and sister had sacrificed to be there, as rodeo season was in high gear. He embraced them too and then straightened his cowboy hat and swallowed as he looked toward the back of the chapel.
Erin’s parents appeared and moved swiftly down the aisle. He’d met them several times over the course of the months, and he liked them.
All at once, McKenzie appeared, holding a silver wire basket. She stepped forward and tossed white petals as the wedding march started up on the organ.
Erin filled the doorway, making Blake’s breath seize in his chest. He’d never seen anything or anyone quite so beautiful in all his days. Her dress clung to her body, fanning out in layer upon layer from the waist down. She wore her hair in a big knot on the back of her head, and she absolutely radiated happiness as she stepped forward with Davy escorting her on the right and Cole on the left.
She reached the front of the chapel and kissed both of her sons on their foreheads before linking her arm in Blake’s. He could hardly believe this day had arrived, could hardly fathom how he’d gotten this gorgeous, strong, faithful woman to agree to be his.
He glanced at the stained glass window behind the pastor as the ceremony started. He’d found a lot of things in this chapel. His own relationship with God. A community of people to belong to. Erin and her kids.
They were pronounced man and wife, and Blake kissed Erin like he’d never kissed her before. Because this was the first kiss of the rest of their lives, and he wanted it to be special. This kiss was the start of their family, and Blake wanted to remember it forever.
The crowd applauded, and Blake gestured for McKenzie, Davy, and Cole to come f
orward so they could all walk together out of the chapel as a family.
Joy filled him with every step, and as he helped Erin and the children into his truck, he said, “All right guys. Off on our first family adventure.”
“Where are we going?” Cole asked, and Blake grinned at him.
“You’ll see.”
The boy groaned, and Blake fully expected him to whine and argue on this trip. For Davy to annoy him, and for McKenzie to need to stop to go to the bathroom a dozen times before they reached Yellowstone.
But he didn’t care. They were his family now, and he loved them.
THE END
Leave a Review
Like this book?
Please leave a review for it!
Join Liz’s newsletter to stay updated with new releases, get free novels, access to exclusive bonus content, and more!
Join Liz’s newsletter here.
Sneak Peek! A Home for the Horseman Chapter One
“Landon?” Emmett Graves entered the homestead at Brush Creek Horse Ranch just after five o’clock on a Friday afternoon. He’d been told by the foreman that the owner wanted to see him before the weekend. SO here he was.
Landon, apparently, was not at the homestead, as Megan poked her head up from the kitchen cabinets where she crouched. “Hey, Emmett.” She gave him a smile and disappeared again.
He moved through the living room, past a set of stairs that went down, and into the kitchen, where he found Megan organizing plastic storage containers and nesting them inside each other.
“Where’s Landon?”
“He hasn’t come in from the ranch yet.” She glanced up at him. “What do you need?”
“He wanted me to stop by.” A sense of urgency trickled through Emmett. He wanted to shower, grab something to eat, and get down to town. The country line dances had been going for a couple of weeks now, and he’d enjoyed himself at them.
“I’ll text him.” She stood and sent a message to her husband. “You goin’ dancin’ tonight?”
He laughed. “Don’t talk like a cowboy,” he said. “You can’t even pull it off.”
“Yes, I can.” She slugged him in the shoulder. “So are you going?”
“Yep.”
“You meet anyone down there?”
“Oh, don’t start on me.” Emmett groaned. “Between you and Tess it’s a miracle I don’t have a date every other night.”
“Do you want a date every other night?” Megan’s dark eyes glittered. “Because I know a lot of women that would be interested.”
“I’m not interested,” Emmett said. Megan tilted her head and looked at him with curiosity, but Landon entered the house through the French doors, saving Emmett from trying to explain.
Trying to explain was all he could do. No one really understood his aversion to woman—not even Emmett himself. All he knew was that women couldn’t be trusted. They didn’t stick around when things got hard. His mama had left when he was twelve, and he hadn’t heard from her since.
His father had been married and divorced three times, and both of Emmett’s older brothers had endured divorces as well.
No thank you, Emmett thought as Landon washed his hands.
The fact that the owner hadn’t said anything upon his arrival set Emmett’s alert on high. “Ted said you wanted to see me before the weekend,” he said.
“Right,” Landon said, exchanging a glance with Megan. He sighed, further worrying Emmett.
“I’ve hired another trainer.”
“That’s great,” Emmett said, trying to find the hidden meaning in the words. Or hear words Landon hadn’t said at all.
“They’ll be doing barrel racing as well. I need you to train them.”
An icy wind swept through Emmett. “They’ll be doing barrel racing? What will I be doing then?”
“Barrel racing.”
Emmett’s eyebrows pinched together. “So you’ll have two barrel racing trainers?”
“For a while.”
Emmett straightened his square shoulders. He wasn’t as tall as Landon or some of the other cowboys on the ranch, but he could hold his own. “Am I being fired?”
“Of course not.” Landon looked at Megan again, who came to stand at his side. A flash of resentment for their relationship stole through Emmett. At the same time, he envied them. “I’m just doin’ a favor for a friend, and I need you to show them the ropes.”
“When is this happening?”
“Monday.” Landon held perfectly still, a tactic Emmett had seen him use before. It exuded confidence and the message that he wasn’t going to budge on the topic at hand.
Emmett admitted defeat with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Is that all?”
“That’s all. Just be here at the homestead at seven sharp on Monday morning.”
Emmett saluted Landon, who rolled his eyes and said, “Get outta here.”
#
With his teeth brushed and his dark hair still a bit damp and curling on the ends, Emmett set his sights down the canyon. The temperature improved by a few degrees as he left the higher elevations behind. The dances were held at Oxbow Park, the largest outdoor venue Brush Creek had to offer.
The days were getting longer now that May was half over, and Emmett parked with several minutes of sunlight left. He made his way past the playground to a large pavilion which had been emptied of all the tables. Music pumped from the lit space, the kind of country twang that brought a quick smile to Emmett’s face.
He didn’t join the throng of people already on the cement dance floor right away. He stuck to the edges, checking out the dancers and finding his groove with the music. He chewed his arctic ice gum with vigor, his anticipation of expending some extra energy on the dance floor amping up.
“Hey, Emmett.” A blonde-haired woman walked by, but Emmett barely glanced at her as he returned the greeting. He really wasn’t interested in anything long-term with a female. But spending an evening dancing with one was perfectly fine.
He merged into the crowd during the song transition, finding himself right next to a tall, curvy woman wearing jeans that went on forever. It was the jeans that should’ve tipped him off. Most of the other women there wore flirty little dresses, not jeans, black cowgirl boots, and a blouse the color of clouds.
He tapped the heel of his boot, then the toe, launching himself fully into the line dance. The redhead next to him had clearly missed the last several years of line dances, because she fumbled all over the place, even coming close to backing into him a time or two.
He chuckled and when the song ended, he said, “When’s the last time you line danced?”
She trained her dazzling hazel eyes on him, and Emmett though he might be really interested in dating her. “It’s been a while,” she admitted. Her gaze slid down his body and back to his cowboy hat, where her lip curled.
She had skin that had spent plenty of time in the sun. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, and her hair had to be naturally curly.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Emmett.”
“We haven’t.” The woman turned and pushed her way through the crowd to a different section of the dance floor, leaving Emmett to stare after her.
He blinked and a laugh flew from his throat. Another song started, and Emmett kept his eye on the dancing disaster that was the redhead. Another man—sans cowboy hat—spoke to her, and she seemed perfectly warm with him.
Emmett’s mood dampened, and he maneuvered toward the refreshment table. So what if that woman didn’t like him? He wasn’t looking for anyone either. He just thought if he’d nearly trampled someone, the least he could do was apologize. And if someone introduced themselves to him, his good Southern manners dictated that he introduce himself back.
The frustration over the nameless woman left him as he downed a cup of lemonade, the chill of it intensifying against the mint of his gum. He refilled his cup and faced the crowd again. There were lots of other women here to dance next to. He didn’t need
her.
He turned to put his nearly-full cup of lemonade in the trashcan but collided with another body. His grip on the plastic cup failed and the yellow liquid doused the woman he’d nearly knocked over.
Now her cloud-colored shirt looked like a dog had peed on it.
“I’m sorry,” Emmett said as he picked up the empty cup and put it in his original target—the trashcan. He grabbed a fistful of napkins and started pawing at the woman’s shirt.
She backed up and held up both of her hands. “Stop. Just…stop.”
Emmett blinked, pure horror flowing through him at the distaste the woman wore on her face. Distaste for him. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to make her dislike him so much—besides dumping ten ounces of ice cold lemonade down the front of her. But she’d seemed cold before then.
He forced a laugh and said, “So you can’t dance, and I can’t drink. Maybe we should both go home before we cause some real damage.” He kept his genuine smile on his face. The smile he wore when he was trying to get something he wanted. The smile that always worked.
Almost always worked.
Because the redhead scoffed, spun away from him, and stomped out of the pavilion. Emmett followed her, pausing where the cement met the grass. “Wait!” he called. “I didn’t get your number!”
She didn’t even turn around, and Emmett faced the dance floor with a chuckle. That woman needed a chill pill, because it was only lemonade. It would come out in the wash, for crying out loud.
“You wanna dance?” The blonde parked herself in front of him, and Emmett figured why not?
“Sure.” He gave that grin again, satisfied that it worked on some women. Human women, he thought as he scanned the darkness beyond the pavilion for the redhead. She was nowhere to be found, so he spun the blonde, and drank too much lemonade, and laughed good-naturedly until the dance ended near midnight.