Page 68 of Need Me, Cowboy
“Probably?”
“Probably,” she confirmed.
She looked up into his eyes, and her heart felt like it took flight. Like a bird.
Like freedom.
And as he gathered her up in his arms, held her close, she knew that for them that was love.
Redemption. Hope. Freedom.
Always.
Epilogue
When the house was finished, he carried her over the threshold.
“You’re only supposed to do that with your wife,” she pointed out.
“You’re going to be my wife soon enough,” Levi said, leaning in and kissing her, emotion flooding his chest.
“Just a couple of months now.”
“It’s going to be different,” he said.
“What is?”
“Marriage. For me. When I got married the first time... It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I did. But I thought I could prove something with that marriage. She wasn’t the important thing—I was. No matter what I told myself, it was more about proving something to me than it was about being a good husband to her. And that isn’t what I want with you. I love you. I don’t want to prove anything. I just want to be with you. I just want to make you happy.”
“And I want to make you happy. I think if both of us are coming at our relationship from that angle, we’re going to be okay.”
He set her down in the empty space, and the two of them looked around. The joy in her eyes was unmistakable. The wonder.
“We’re standing in a place you created. Does that amaze you?”
It amazed him. She amazed him. He’d thought of her as too innocent for him. Too young. Too a lot of things. But Faith Grayson was a force. Powerful, creative. Beautiful.
Perfect for him.
She ducked her head, color flooding her cheeks. “It kind of does. Even though I’ve made a lot of buildings now. I’ve never...made one for me.”
“You did this forme. I never asked you if that bothered you.”
“Why would it bother me?”
“We talked about this. You haven’t had a chance to design your own house yet.”
She looked down at her hands, and then back up at him, sincerity shining from her brown eyes. “You know, I’ve always thought a lot about homes. Of course I did. How could I not, in my line of work? But I always felt like home was the place where you grew up. I never thought any place could feel like home to me more than my parents’ house. I took my first steps there. I cried over tests, I was stressed about college admissions in my little bed. I had every holiday, endless family discussions around the dinner table. I never thought any place, even if it was custom-built for me, could ever feel more like home than there. I was wrong, though.”
“Oh?”
She took a step toward him, pressing her fingers to his chest. “This is home.”
“We don’t even have any furniture.”
“Not the house.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed him on the lips. “You. You’re my home. Wherever you are. That’s my home.”
