Page 147 of For Cowgirls and Kings

“I hope I can bring someone to the next big life moment like this. It’d be nice to not be the permanent fifth wheel,” Faith teases, but I sense the truth in her words. I hate to see her alone and sad, especially because I know how incredible she is. But the only person I can think of in her life that isn’t one of us is someone I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy on.

Especially because up until today I was convinced he was in love with my sister.

“What about—” Dale starts and Faith shakes her head wildly, cutting off the remainder of the sentence.

“I anxiously await our next margarita date. And this time, you guys are taking care of me.” Stetson yawns, leaning back. And we take that as our cue to leave for now.

Dale releases my hand, walking to lean over Stetson, whispering something in her ear. Stetson instantly smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, before she waves her off.

The three of us walk from the room, andout of the hospital into the late evening Texas heat. It clings around us—a warm blanket matching the fuzzy warm feeling filling my chest.

How did life get so good in the span of a single day?

If I’ve learned anything from Dale, and our life together, it’s never to take a single moment for granted. Nothing is guaranteed, and we must fight for what we want in this life.

In a single day, I got every dream I’d been working toward brought to life. Tomorrow, Dale and I get to start making new dreams together.

FIFTY-THREE

ADALENE

August 12th, 2025

I pull up the drive,the last of my belongings sitting in various boxes in the back seat. I park, the dust settling around the front window to reveal the perfect house, with the perfect view, andthe perfect mansitting on the porch, waiting for me.

Is my heart going to explode?It’s likely, but I can’t say I’d be disappointed.

I’d been determined to do the last sweep of my little cottage on my own—a final goodbye that wasn’t half as sad as I expected it to be. It’s hard to be sad when I knew all of this was waiting for me. I had to keep from racing back, breaking every law to get here, just so I could make sure it was real and not just a figment of my imagination.

Mateo rock’s in a large wooden chair on the porch, his chest bare from the heat, his legs jean clad and crossed at the ankles. He’s not wearing shoes—his feet bare—and it’s enough for me to swoon. Seeing this man so carefree, so domesticated—it’s a wet dream.And I plan to never wake up.

He raises a glass of what looks like whiskey to his lips, taking a deep sip that makes his throat bob dramatically, all while his eyes bore into mine. There’s a heat that’s palpable even fromhere, and I contemplate how long I can sit here before involuntarily combusting. Mateo lowers the glass, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in challenge. We haven’t spoken yet, but I already know what he’ll say.

Are you just going to sit there and watch me, or are you going to join me?

I lick my lips, my throat all of a sudden feeling achingly dry. This is it—the beginning of my forever staring me in the face, and I’m almost too excited to reach out and take it. I trust Mateo to catch me, but it all just seemstoo good.

He shifts, uncrossing his ankles, to lean his elbows on his knees. His muscles ripple with the movement, my favorite abs—the second row from the bottom—looking especially delicious and I smirk.

Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. And even though we’ve been at each other for days now, I’m not even the least bit satiated. If anything, I’ve never felt more feral for him. And I enjoy a little pain with my pleasure.

Delayed gratitude and all that.

As if reading my mind, Mateo shakes his head, before standing and walking inside.

Did he just leave me out here? To unload all these boxes and a heavy helping of horniness all on my own? What kind of man does that to his woman?

I’m yanking the door to my car open, and stomping up the stairs before I have a chance to second guess myself. The front door slams behind me, and it takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the entryway.

It’s exactly enough time for Mateo to step out of the shadows behind me, wrapping his sweaty arm around my middle, and his enormous hand over my mouth. I freeze, my fight or flight engaging at the sudden contact, butthen his scent floods my system, and the familiar feel of his front to my back, and I melt against him.

My annoyance isn’t gone—she’s just a horny bitch who prefers to fuck over fight. And right now, I’m practically rubbing myself against him, desperate for him to have me any way he wants me.

“What’s got you so bothered, cowgirl?” His words are hot air against the shell of my ear and I shiver.

Blood pounds through my veins, all racing toward the ache between my thighs, and I mindlessly rub my legs together to relieve the growing pressure there.

The hand that was around my middle, snakes down between my legs. I groan into his palm, the promise of his hand on me enough to make me pant. But instead of touching me where I need him, his fingers bite into the flesh of my thigh, yanking the leg up so that I’m standing on one foot—held up only by his strength.