Page 70 of Winter Cowboy

My grind against his groin was automatic, but not PG, and there were teenagers around. I pushed a few inches away from him, grinning.

In a minute, we’d cross that barnyard together. Maybe we’d hold hands, or Seth might keep that light touch I loved on the small of my back, and no one would care, but what mattered most was happening right here.

The last time I had my feet on Vickston County soil, I was a lost, terrified boy. Now here I stood, a man with a life I loved, a wide-open future, and my arms around the person I called home. I kissed Seth’s rough chin. “Merry Christmas. Happy almost anniversary.”

Seth cupped my cheek in his work-callused hand and smiled back at me. “Yep. All of that. Now, let’s go mess up those pretty sheets before our Michelin-star dinner.”

“You don’t want to check out the mini-goats first?” I teased.

Seth threw his head back and laughed. “After. Tomorrow. You first and the goats later.” He sobered and brushed my lower lip with his thumb. “You first, always.”

The safest I’d ever felt was losing myself in the green-gold intensity of my husband’s eyes. The happiest I’d ever been was when he bent his head and kissed me one more time.

But to keep the moment from falling over the edge into ridiculously sappy, I murmured, “All right, cowboy, you can buy some goats when we get home.”

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