Page 34 of Wrangling Wade

He hauls me up his body until I'm straddling his lap. "When?"

"I guess after my last shift at the bar?" I loop my arms around his neck. "You'll be too busy stalking me until then to help me pack. And I refuse to pack alone."

"About that…"

"Packing? It sucks."

"Stalking you," he says, his lips twitching. He thinks it's funny when I call it that, but honestly, that's basically what it is. I just happen to like being stalked by him. "I won't be around as much once you start at the gallery."

"I'll be fine, Wade. Danny probably hasn't ever set foot in an art gallery. I highly doubt he'll make an exception just to piss you off," I murmur, resting my head against his shoulder.

"He can't. He's in jail."

I immediately lift my head, blinking at him. "What?"

"He's in jail," Wade repeats. "Dillon stopped by the ranch today to let me know they arrested him this morning on a bunch of felony theft charges."

"Really?"

Wade nods.

"Is that why you asked me to marry you?"

"Yes. No." He grimaces. "I've been carrying your ring around just like I said, beautiful. I wasn't lying about that. And I've been dying to put it on your finger, but…" He hesitates. "You've struggled enough in life. I didn't want to add to it, so I thought it was best to wait until we knew whether or not I'd be going to jail or losing my job. I couldn't ask when I wasn't sure I could promise to take care of you the way you deserve."

"Wade," I whisper.

"You've done enough, Harlow," he murmurs. "You took care of your mom. You've been taking care of yourself. It's my turn to take over now. And I needed to make sure I could do it right." His thumb brushes my bottom lip. "I won't be something in your life that makes it harder. I intend to be the man who makes it easier. Always, baby."

"You already make it easier," I whisper. "You don't have to provide for me or any of that. Just being with you makes me so fucking happy. That's all I need, Wade. Just you."

He groans softly, dipping his head to brush his lips across mine. "You have me, Harlow. You have me so fucking deeply."

"You have me too," I breathe against his lips. "Forever, Wade."

He groans again, lifting me just high enough to press his cock to my opening. "Show me," he growls, gently lowering me down on him.

I throw my head back, more than willing to show him exactly how he has me, as often and for as long as he wants.

Epilogue

Wade

Six Years Later

"Who's dese people, Mama?" an angelic little voice asks, making me smile as soon as I step into the gallery.

"That's the sheriff and his wife, baby girl," Harlow murmurs to our daughter, their heads together as they stare at the painting of Dillon hanging on the wall.

"Oh, Diwwon," Abigail says, clapping her hands.

I grumble wordlessly, annoyed as fuck that my four-year-old daughter likes the bastard so much. She has a crush. Believe me, I am not thrilled about it.

Dillon thinks it's hilarious, though. I think he makes a point of coming around just to piss me off when Abigail spends the next three days talking about him incessantly.

One of these days, I may be the one who shoots him in the ass. Probably won't even be sorry about it. If they select a jury from town, I might even get away with it, too. I doubt there's a man in this whole damn town who hasn't wanted to maim him at least once.

I can't deny that the painting is gorgeous, though. My wife is far too talented to deny it. Dillon and Jules are sharing an ice cream cone at a fair downtown in the painting, their hands linked, their eyes connected. There's no denying the adoration in his gaze or the happiness in hers.