Page 63 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

duke

M ore than six months had passed since Gloria was arrested. Since I finally saw my mother for who she really was. Since every last one of our ghosts had been dragged out into the light.

And yet, I’d never been happier.

Ironwood would be sold in the next few days, and Piper Novak would go on trial by the end of the year. Fiona had taken a deal like my mother, and both would start their prison sentences in a few weeks. I wasn’t paying much attention; I was just letting Mac filter the information from the DA to us.

Life had taken a pattern, a beautiful one—even though a few years ago, I’d have thought this was the definition of mundane hell. Then, I didn’t know what I was looking for; I didn’t understand the meaning of the word contentment or peace because I’d never experienced it.

Elena felt the same way as she often marveled when we were in bed, sitting on the porch, or on the riverside, as we were now, “How is this our life?”

Since the summer days were longer, I asked Itzel to pack us a picnic basket for dinner.

I’d asked her to be careful about what she packed because Elena’s stomach was on the fritz.

I don’t think she’d clued in yet that she was pregnant.

I didn’t want to interfere with her finding out because she talked about it often, wanting this time, the moment when she told me, because this time I’d be there with her, this time she wouldn’t be alone or afraid.

I’d worried about her riding, but Itzel had just rolled her eyes, calling it overprotectiveness—something she and Elena seemed to agree on. “Women drive when they’re pregnant, and Elena rides. Same difference.”

I hadn’t told her about the miscarriage, but Itzel was sharp. She saw more than people realized. And while she didn’t give me grief over it, she also didn’t let me hover too much.

The sun was sinking slowly, spilling streaks of fire and gold across the sky, turning the river into liquid copper. The cottonwoods rustled, whispering secrets in the wind, and the world felt like it was holding its breath.

We sat together on the blanket. I leaned against the cottonwood and Elena against me. Her hand was on her stomach, and she stroked it gently.

I wondered then if she knew and was waiting to tell me. Or maybe she was holding on to her cherished secret for just a little longer, scared she’d lose this baby, too. I understood and gave her space .

For a man who’d lived as selfishly as I had, opening myself in this manner, living my life to make this woman happy, was a gift from the universe—an honor.

I lifted her face to mine and kissed her. “So,” I drawled, grinning wide.

“So?”

"Guess I should ask if you’re staying for good, then."

She made a face. “Of course, I am.” She arched an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll disappear?”

“Yes,” I replied honestly.

“Not happening,” she assured me, her smile as bright as the sun.

“In that case”—I took her hand in mine as I looked into her eyes, pulled out the ring I was carrying in my jeans, and rolled it between my fingers—“we should get married.”

Her lips parted, realization hitting her, but before she could say a damn word, I slipped the ring onto her finger. She looked at her hand and then at me.

"Huh?”

“You don’t like the ring?”

It was a gold ring with diamonds shaped like a horseshoe.

“Huh?” she repeated, dazed.

“Oh, just a minute.” I pulled out a gold chain from my pocket. “I know you can’t wear it on your finger when you work, so I got you a chain, and you can tuck it under your…hey, baby.”

She was crying now. Tears flowed down her face, small sobs coming out of her.

“Baby, if you don’t like the ring, we’ll get a new one,” I teased.

“Don’t you dare.” She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Good. It took me a hell of a time getting it made.” I kissed her nose. “The jewelry designer kept asking if I’d like something else besides a horseshoe, and I kept saying that’s the fuckin’ thing I want. These artist types are so temperamental and?—”

She flung her arms around me and kissed every inch of my face. “I love you,” she murmured repeatedly.

I fell to my back, and she straddled me. She looked at her ring, her eyes wide with excitement.

I watched her, knowing that happiness like this was precious, and I would never ever take it for granted. I’d hold it close, hold it clean. "You once told me I wasn’t of the land anymore. That I’d given it up."

She nodded, her eyes shining, the river reflected in them like the whole damn world was watching—like the land, the sky, and everything between had paused just for this moment.

"This place—this land—this life"—I let out a ragged breath—"is in my blood. Same as it’s in yours. And I don’t want any of it without you."

She pressed a hand to her chest like she was afraid her heart might just give out.

“We’re going to get married?” She sounded like the girl I’d first loved right here on this riverbank: excited, happy, and innocent .

“Yeah, baby.”

She bit her lower lip. “I have something, too.”

“Yeah?” My heart began to beat fast. I couldn’t wait for her to tell me we were going to become parents.

She let the moment stretch. Then, finally, she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

My heart damn near stopped. I pulled her down, kissing her like I’d been waiting for her, for this, my whole damn life. “You make me so fuckin’ happy, Florecita .”

“Welcome home, mi cielo ,” she whispered against my mouth.

We made love because, hell, there were a lot of emotions—joy, relief, everything in between—and sometimes the only way to work through all that was with a good, hard fuck.

When I told Elena that, she groaned, “You’re such a romantic. I’m sure you didn’t talk like this with your other women…like Fiona.”

“You’re right. They got flowery bullshit.”

“I just get?—”

“Honest shit,” I joked.

The bunkhouse was loud, filled with laughter, and the smell of grilled meat and fresh bread. Boots stomped, poker chips clinked, and beer bottles clashed together in lazy toasts.

This was home. Our home. These people were family. Elena and I stood at the head of the table with me grinning like a damn fool.

"Alright, listen up," I called.

A few heads turned. Cal rolled his eyes. "What did you do now?”

I slung an arm around Elena’s shoulders and smirked. "Elena and I are getting hitched."

Silence.

Then the whole mess hall erupted. Hoots, hollers, boots stomping against the floorboards.

Ben let out a loud whistle. "Hell yeah!"

Hunt clapped me on the shoulder. "About damn time." He hugged Elena and whispered something in her ear that made her smile.

Roy grinned at Elena. “You sure you wanna be saddled with this one? He’s too city, darlin’.”

She shrugged, playing it cool. "Figured someone had to beat that city shit out of him, so why the hell not me."

Calls for celebratory drinks were made, and Itzel, who knew I was going to ask, showed up with Ally and helped open bottles of beer, and , of course, Buffalo Trace. I had asked Itzel if we should get the good stuff, and she said the ranch hands would revolt, so I went with the tried and true.

After everyone oohed and aahed over the engagement ring, ribbed me about the horseshoe, and suggested Elena leave me and run away with one of them, we went outside.

Roy played the guitar as Jace sang dirty limericks about a Horny Girl from Nantucket .

I squeezed Elena’s waist and leaned in, my lips just brushing her ear. "You happy?"

"More than I ever thought I could be,” she confessed.

So, while everyone was busy celebrating, I kissed the love of my life, slow and deep, like we had all the time in the world because, finally, we did.