Page 135 of Fallen Willow

“Well, I’m happy here.” I wink. “The cowboy was just a bonus.”

Trouble snorts from a few feet away, feeling abandoned or uncomfortable with all this sappy stuff.

I laugh in his direction. “You’ll get your turn,” I call out.

Dallas lifts my hat, kissing the top of my head. “Not today. I’m going to put him back in the barn and make my girls breakfast.”

I put my hands flat on my belly. “And boy.”

He chuckles. “Fine. Extra bacon for you.”

The back door swings open, Ellie stepping out with her wild bedhead and squinting eyes.

“Hey, Slippers.” I smile as Dallas lifts her up off the cold stone floor—since she’s barefoot again.

I move to the bench and lift one of the pillows, where I keep an extra pair of knitted booties for her, and slip them on her cold feet.

“Why do you look sad?” She rubs the stubble along her father’s jaw.

“I’m not sad, sunshine. Just remembering a sad time.” He swallows. “But you and Mommy made it better. And you keep making it better every day.”

Ellie smiles warmly at me, like it’s been our plan all along. A breeze blows her hair over her face and I brush it back, a smile tugging as I take in my favorite scents.

I breathe it all in. The sweet hay lingering off his vest, the fresh flowers growing along the land, the fruity shampoo off my little girl’s head.

It all seems surreal and unfair at the same time. That I get to have them. Live the dream I always wanted. And the one I never thought I’d get.

I lean against him, content in the quiet. He must catch me staring at the oak tree because he leans down, lips grazing my ear as he asks, “Ready to do it all over again in a few months?”

I put my hand on my belly with a smile. “Which part?”

“The vows.” He chuckles then dips his eyes. “Then, who knows?”

Since our wedding day, Dallas has been dropping hints at a do-over. With Cole in the crowd, without doubt or questions or prenups or lies. Just a true celebration of two people who vow to love each other. After the new year, we set a date for September.

And as with any news in Blue River Springs, it traveled fast. So our plans for a private, intimate ceremony went out the window. It’s now the event of the year.

I smile at the oak tree. “Same place, right?”

He follows my gaze. “Same place. No matter how many more people we need to invite.” His fingers trail behind my neck, sweeping my hair aside then pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’m marrying you again under that tree this fall. At sunset.”