Page 153 of The Mountain Echoes

She’s a vision tonight—just like she is every time I lay eyes on her, no matter the place or hour.

It appears my sister convinced her to replace her jeans with a soft green dress that hits mid-calf, with a slit that tantalizes me.

She’s still wearing boots scuffed from the day.

I watch her as she laughs with Bree and Joy by the pie table, a pint of beer in hand.

My chest tightens as it always does when I look at her. I’m a man in love, and no one is as beautiful as my woman.

Who would’ve thought I’d turn into a sap in my forties? And who would’ve thought I’d be happy as a clam at being in love?

Aria has let go of a lot this past year.

She let go of Celine, who got twelve years in federal prison.

Celine avoided trial because the evidence was damning. She’d conspired to sabotage a working ranch, obstructed a federal organic audit, and was indirectly tied to a sabotage that killed a man and a bombing that killed another.

With good behavior, she could be out in eight to ten. But she’ll never set foot on Longhorn again—I’m going to make sure of it.

Aria made peace with that. Some ties are better cut. Her resilience amazes me.

She feels sorry for Celine, but not enough to let her poison contaminate our lives. She doesn’t carry bitterness. It’s a skill she has—a superpower.

That’s the thing about Aria. People mistake her quiet for weakness, but I know better. She’s got more steel in her spine than most men I know.

She’s glowing now. Shining bright.And, she’s all mine.

I walk up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist as the band starts to play a slow country number that hushes the crowd.

She rests against me, no resistance, as natural as breathing.

“You gonna dance with me, darlin’?”

“I suppose I can make time.”

I lead her to the center, where couples have already gathered, boots scuffing the dirt in rhythm.

The stars are out, big and bright, hanging over us like witnesses.

“I’ve been thinking.” I dip my head near hers as we sway.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” she teases.

We’ve merged our lands.

Longhorn Kincaid is now one of the biggest organic farms in Colorado. But we’re legally still two separate entities. We cooperate. Share labor. Share land.

“I think it’s time tolegallymerge our two ranches.”

She frowns.

“Like a marriage, if you will.”

She narrows her eyes in mock suspicion. “Is that a proposal?”

“Not gonna propose to you, darlin’. You could say no. I ain’t takin’ that risk.” I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out a small ring box.

She smiles wide.