Page 42 of My Cowboy Trouble (The Cowboy Romantic Comedies #1)

Two weeks later, we're back at the county fairgrounds for another rodeo, but this time, everything's different.

Instead of sitting in the stands feeling awkward about my complicated feelings, I'm standing behind the chutes with a beer in my hand, watching Gavin prep for his ride with the kind of casual confidence that comes from knowing exactly where you belong.

"He's gonna be insufferable if he wins," Asher says, appearing at my side with his own beer.

"He's insufferable when he loses too," Trent points out from my other side. "At least if he wins, he'll be happy about it."

"I can hear you assholes," Gavin calls from where he's adjusting his chaps. But he's grinning, loose and relaxed in a way I haven't seen him in weeks. And so excited to be coming out of retirement.

"Good," I call back. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late for that, princess. Everything goes to my head where you're concerned."

The easy banter feels natural now, comfortable in a way it never did before. Like we've finally stopped pretending to be something we're not and started being exactly who we are.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our next rider is Gavin Slade from the Dusty Spur Ranch!"

The crowd cheers as Gavin settles onto the bull, and I find myself holding my breath despite knowing he's done this a thousand times. It's different when it's someone you love in that chute, different when you have something to lose.

"He's good at this," I say, more to reassure myself than anything.

"Best in the county," Trent confirms. "Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried," I lie.

"’Course not," Asher says with a grin. "That's why you're white-knuckling that beer bottle."

Before I can respond, the chute opens and Gavin's flying out on two thousand pounds of pissed-off bull. Eight seconds feels like eight hours, but he makes it look easy, staying centered and controlled until the buzzer sounds and he dismounts with typical Gavin flair .

The crowd goes wild, and the scoreboard lights up with a number that makes Asher whistle low.

"Show-off," Trent mutters, but he's smiling.

"My show-off," I correct, and neither of them argues.

Gavin jogs over to us, grinning and breathing hard, and I throw myself at him without thinking. He catches me easily, spinning me around while I laugh and tell him how amazing he was.

"Couldn't have done it without my good luck charm," he says, setting me down but keeping his arms around me.

"Is that what I am?"

"Among other things," he says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes me blush.

"Get a room," someone calls from behind us, and I turn to see half the local ranching community grinning at us with varying degrees of amusement and approval.

"Ignore them," Trent says. "They're just jealous."

"Damn right they're jealous," someone hollers. "Three good men and a successful ranch? Hell, I'd be jealous too if I wasn't happily married."

As they walk away, I turn to look at my three cowboys, because that's what they are now, mine, and feel something settle in my chest. Not just contentment but certainty. The bone-deep knowledge that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

"So," I say as we head toward the truck, "what do we call ourselves? "

"A family," Trent says without hesitation.

"A unit," Asher adds.

"A handful," Gavin finishes with a grin.

"All of the above," I decide.

The drive back to the ranch is comfortable, filled with easy conversation and the kind of casual touching that's become second nature.

Gavin's hand on my knee, Asher's fingers playing with my hair, Trent's arm around my shoulders.

Small gestures that say "mine" and "ours" and "forever" without needing words.

"Hey. I forgot to ask you guys about this. What is up with my aunt Maybelle and Trent's dad? You know… together?"

Even in the dark of the truck's cab, I can see shock on their faces.

"How… how did you find out? Did Aunt Maybelle speak to you from the grave or something?" Gavin asks.

I look his way to see if he's serious and he bursts into laughter.

"You jerk. She left me a letter. Fessed up to his being the love of her life."

"It's true," Trent says. "But we were really the only ones who knew. And they thought they were hiding it from us."

"It was kind of funny honestly. Seeing them sneak from the main house to the bunk room where Mr. Mercer lived and back. Got a total kick out of it," Asher adds .

"Well, I'm happy to know Aunt Maybelle had love in her life."

"Same with my dad," Trent says.

When we pull into the yard, Sir Clucks-a-Lot comes running over like he's been personally offended by our absence.

I climb out of the truck and look around at the barn where we work together every day, the house where we eat dinner and argue about whose turn it is to do dishes, the pastures where we've built something real and lasting.

"You know what?" I say, turning to face three men who've become everything I didn't know I needed.

"What?" they ask in unison, which makes me laugh.

"I think my aunt would be proud."

"Yeah," Trent says, pulling me close. "I think she would."

And standing there in the yard of the Dusty Spur Ranch, surrounded by the men I love and the life we're building together, I know she would. Because this is exactly what she wanted for me. A place to belong, a purpose worth pursuing, and love that grows from the ground up like the strongest roots.

Messy, complicated, unconventional love that's worth every bit of trouble it took to find.

All of it.