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So, yeah, they wager and drop gauntlets amongst themselves.

Kian bucks Dante with half a second to spare. Perfect timing, and I know I won the pool.

“Oh drat! That’s just bad luck, Dante!” Avery yells, but I know it has nothing to do with luck and everything to do with my amazing mate.

We go back to the stands, and a few minutes later Kian catches my eye from across the way, shirtless, glistening, walking like a golden god in cowboy boots.

He lifts a hand, and I swear, my thighs clench from a simple wave.

“I saw that look,” Jez teases.

“I felt that look,” Avery fans herself again.

“What? It’s hot outside!” I protest weakly.

“Girl, it’s hot inside, too. Specifically, inside your pants,” Jez laughs.

“Okay, okay, can we maybe not talk about my nether regions while I’m trying to sell cheese to Pastor Cooper and his wife?” I hiss, nodding toward the table where a sweet couple is waiting for a sample.

Avery gives me a wicked smile. “Better tell him not to try the paprika honey then. It does things to a person.”

Avery waggles her eyebrows and does a booty shake that makes me giggle. And snort.

And just like that, my nerves vanish.

Because we’re doing it. All of it.

Surviving. Thriving. Working. Loving.

Living.

And tonight, when the rodeo’s over and the stands are empty, I’ll go home to my Bull, wrap myself around him, and tell him all about how I sold out of our cheese before noon.

Because this life?

This wild, weird, utterly magical life?

It’s ours now. And it’s just getting started.

Epilogue Two-Kian

Spring is nearly over.

The lilacs are fading, the air’s thicker with the scent of fresh earth and warmer days, and the last of the early buds are giving way to the full bloom of summer.

And me?

I’ve got a ring burning a hole in my goddamn pocket.

It’s not much. Nothing flashy.

Just a simple twisted band made from silver and inlaid with a small sapphire because it reminds me of Arliss’ crystalline eyes when she looks at me with love shining in their blue depths.

She’s human. And humans have ceremonies.

Traditions. Weddings.

And while I don’t know much about tuxes or first dances or what side the boutonniere goes on, I know one thing for damn sure: I want to give her everything she’s ever dreamed of.