Page 165 of Wild Rose

I lean back against him as I picture it all. “That would be amazing, Wilder.”

“Only problem is .?.?.” He lowers his lips to the side of my face. “You’d have to move in with me.”

I grin, twisting to face him. “Have to, huh?”

“Best view in town. Deluxe coffee machine I’m making Dallas leave behind. And me .?.?. every morning. And every night.”

“Wine and chocolate shavings?”

“The works,” he promises.

“Locks?”

“Just the one. It’s all you need.”

I press my lips together, my eyes stinging as I nod. “It’s all I want.”

His eyes gleam and now—I really wish the house was empty.

Wilder looks over my shoulder at the crunch of another set of tires pulling up to the cottage. “I forgot one more thing.” He steps back. “Something I’m going to need you to do first thing tomorrow,” he says sternly.

My smile dims as I turn. Jeff pulls up in my cart. My very white and boring old cart.

“Evenin’, Rose. Good to have ya back.” He unloads a bucket, two paint cans and a set of brushes from the cart.

“Did I miss a spot?” I grumble.

He laughs and tips his hat, then heads inside. I cock my head at Wilder.

He shrugs. “In case you need a vehicle that fits through the bushes.”

I laugh and we walk over to it. I notice something on the seat and gasp. “Is that .?.?.”

“Ginger finally found ’em. Blue cowgirl hats. Shop’s filled with them now.”

I jump inside and pop it on my head. He follows and sits beside me. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, part giddy and part heartbroken.

Because something feels off. It’s definitely my cart, but doesn’t feel .?.?.mineanymore.

My shoulders sink as I stare at the front hood, remembering how hard it was to paint it all back to white.

“Paint it back for me, Blue?” Wilder whispers beside me.

I sniffle and lean into him. “Now is that you asking nicely or specifying a color?”

“I want it exactly the same.” He holds up a finger. “With one minor change.”

My brows shoot up. “Oh?”

“I’m not sureTheRoseis quite right.”

“Then what do I call it?”

“Wild Rose.”