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What are you doing to me?I remember saying.

I’d known her—“known” being a strong word, I realize—for five minutes and she’d already had me by the balls.

We kissed long enough that we started to get a few hoots, hollers, and whistles from passersby. I knew I was blushing, but I didn’t care.

When she finally pulled away, I mourned the loss of her mouth against mine, but I guessed her forehead against mine would have to be enough for now.

“I missed you,” she said again.

“I love you,” I responded. “And I missed you like crazy.”

“Let’s never go that long again, deal?”

“Deal,” I said. Easiest deal I’d ever make in my entire life. She tightened her legs around me one last time before unwrapping them and dropping to the ground.

I picked up her bag and slung an arm over her shoulder as we walked toward the baggage claim—my girl did not pack light. “How many bags this time?” I asked. Sometimes she brought a lot of stuff home—antiques and shit.

“Just two.” She smiled up at me. I recognized her firstbag—it was the same one she’d brought to Rebel Blue—when it appeared on the carousel. Now it was marked with one of the airline’s orange “heavy” tags.

She pointed at her next bag, which had the same tag.Jesus.I made a mental note to lift with my legs before I grabbed them both.

They were heavy as hell.

“You know,” I said, “if your plane fell out of the sky, it would be your fault because of these two monsters.”

Ada waved her hand like that wasn’t a big deal. “The rare vintage set of Pyrex mixing bowls that I got for our house was worth the risk.”

Our house.

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but every time she did felt like the first time. I didn’t think I’d ever get over the fact that Ada Hart was mine and I was hers.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said as I opened my truck’s passenger door for her. She gave me a quick kiss before she hopped in. I rounded to the other side and got in. Ada swiftly slid across the bench seat to saddle up next to me, which was just the way I liked it.

I turned on some James Taylor, and we started the three-hour drive back to Meadowlark and Rebel Blue. We talked about Ada’s last project and her newfound love of incorporating found rocks into design elements like backsplashes and shower floors. I told her about the wranglers we’d hired to guide our rides at Baby Blue this summer.

Baby Blue, which was now the guest ranch’s actual name, would officially open on June 15 and run weeklong trips through the last week of August. Our guests would have theoption to ride every day, hike, fish, and hopefully relax too. Every week was already booked solid. Ada’s social media sent a lot of people our way.

The seasonal wranglers and guides we hired were great, and we’d mapped out the trails they would use around Rebel Blue that wouldn’t interfere with the ranch hands’ work, but the likelihood that guests would come in contact with some stubborn cows was still pretty high.

All part of the ranch experience, I guess.

“Do you think you’ll be around for the opening?” I asked, trying not to give away how much I wanted her there, even though she probably already knew.

She pushed up and kissed my cheek. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” she said. “Plus, I need to make sure the inside looks perfect.”

Relief and joy washed through me. She would be there to welcome people to the place we’d built together. The place that had springboarded both of our dreams.

After Ada had returned from her short-lived getaway, we showed my family Baby Blue. They loved every square inch of it. Especially the painting that now graced the entryway. It was one of my mom’s. It was big—probably four by six—and it depicted the Rebel Blue Ranch headgate at sunset.

My dad teared up when he saw it. So did Emmy and Gus.

“So,” I asked, “when do you head back out? Do you have your next job lined up?” I realized we hadn’t talked about it yet. She’d never brought it up in any of our FaceTimes, phone calls, or messages. Normally, she lined the next job up about two months before the end of the current one.

Instead of answering, she just said, “Pull over,” which wasodd, but I did what she said. Once the truck was stopped on the dirt shoulder right outside Meadowlark, Ada turned her body toward me and put a hand on my face.

“I’m not,” she said. “Heading back out.”

My heart thundered in my chest. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?