Page 155 of The Mountain Echoes

Vera is holding Elena’s son on her hip while talking to Nadine and Clayton McKnight, my erstwhile employer and owner of the vineyard we got married at.

My friend and Clayton’s wife, Sanya, smiles at me from across the table, raising her glass.

Tomas and Duke are arguing over who’s a better roper.

Kaz is growling at the bartender Bree is flirting with.

Dr. Sarah Kirk, our veterinarian and someone who has become a dear friend, is talking earnestly to Clayton’s mother, who is an Obstetrician-Gynecologist. Apparently, they have a lot in common when it comes to birthings.

We got married in the vineyard courtyard with no aisle, no fluff.

Just Maverick and me, standing in our boots beneath a simple arch of reclaimed vine and wild roses.

He said, “I love you for who you are and who you never stopped trying to be.”

And I said, “With you, I’m never afraid of starting over.”

We meant every word.

Our lives are almost boring, I feel, after all the drama of sabotage and Celine’s machinations.

“How long do we need to stay here? I’d really like to get on with the fuckin’ part of the wedding,” Maverick murmurs, his voice warm against my neck.

My eyes twinkle with excitement and unfiltered happiness. “You’re such aromantic.”

He chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I was thinking?—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He kisses me. “What if we bought a vineyard? Nothing fancy. Just a small patch. Something to visit in the winters.”

I laugh, low and surprised. “You’re joking.”

“I’m dead serious. We’ll come out here during the off-season. Raise babies among the vines. Sell wine and beef as a package.”

My husband, I have discovered, is an entrepreneur. There’s a reason Kincaid Farms has grown the way it has.

Maverick can’t sit still. He’s always thinking of the next thing and the next. His excitement about how we can improve operations and add to the business is contagious, if exhausting.

“God, Maverick—” I shake my head. “Life with you is going to be an adventure, isn’t it?”

He grins mischievously. “Damn right.”

The music swells behind us—Clayton’s playing acoustic, and Joy’s dragging Zane up for a dance.

I rise and offer Maverick my hand.

“Come on, cowboy,” I say. “Let’s dance.”

He tugs me into his arms like I belong there, which I do.

“This is it. This is everything,” he says, a little choked up on emotion.

I nod, feeling the intensity ofus. “And it’s only just beginning.”