Page 57 of Promised to the Cowboy
His eyes flick to mine for the briefest second before returning to the road.
“Darlin’,” he says, a smile tugging at his mouth, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
My breath catches.
He says it so simply. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I turn toward the window before he can see the ridiculous smile spreading across my face.
The road curves between stands of pine before opening onto another ranch. Havenridge doesn’t announce itself with a grand entrance; it simply unfolds. Green pasture. White fencing. A weathered red barn. A newer barn painted green. A wraparound porch crowded with rocking chairs.
The front door flies open before Gabriel has even switched off the engine. A curvy redhead in a flour-dusted apron smiles so warmly that I’m halfway to smiling back before she says a word.
As soon as we hit the porch, she pulls me into a hug that smells faintly of cinnamon and bread.
“Hi, Evie. I’m Shay. It’s good to meet you.” She casts a faintly accusatory glance over my shoulder at Gabriel. “About time he brought you to Havenridge.”
“Hello to you too, Shay,” Gabriel says.
Shay releases me and immediately throws her arms around Gabriel.
He hugs her back with a long-suffering sigh. “You done?”
“Not even close.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
I’d always assumed Gabriel simply wasn’t much of a hugger. Apparently, he just saves them for family.
“Been too long since you visited, Gabe,” Shay says, finally releasing him. She pats his cheek. “We’ve missed you. I even baked your favorite pie.”
“I believe you.” A smile tugs at his mouth. “The entire ranch smells like huckleberry.”
Her green eyes sparkle. “Not my fault the whole county loves my pies.”
“The whole county lovesyou.”
Shay presses a hand to her chest. “Careful. Keep talking like that and people will think you’ve gone soft.”
Gabriel’s expression doesn’t change. “Don’t start rumors.”
I laugh.
Shay winks at me, loops her arm through mine, and starts steering me toward the front door. “Come on. Everyone’s inside.”
The warmth hits me the moment she opens the front door.
The kitchen is alive.
A tall man is stirring something on the stove. Laughter rolls in from somewhere deeper in the house. The smell of roast beef, fresh bread, and huckleberry pie scents the air.
For one impossible second, I just stand there.
It’s... loud.
Comfortably loud, like every room is being lived in.
An older man sits at the head of the kitchen table with a dark-haired toddler balanced happily on his knee. He looks up as we walk in, his weathered face breaking into an easy smile.
