Page 48 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

Braxton reached for my hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

We started toward his truck. He was really staying. The thought brought back the words I’d swallowed the night before.

There would be time. That was what I’d told myself. But time wasn’t the same thing as courage, and I was done hiding behind what was comfortable.

I stopped.

Braxton took another step before realizing I wasn’t next to him. He turned. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

There. It was out there. I hadn’t waited for the perfect moment or tried to polish the words into something more.

His expression changed so completely my chest tightened. “Are you sure?”

I laughed. “Seriously?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I had to ask.”

I took his face between my hands. “I love you, Braxton James.”

“I love you too, was just waiting for the perfect time to say it.” His arms closed around me. “I should have known better. The perfect time is just you and me together.”

I kissed him right there on the sidewalk, and for once, I didn’t care who was watching.

EPILOGUE - TRAVIS

I’d been told not to show up at the rodeo office. That right there should’ve been my first sign that stopping by meant any conversation I had would be hell.

But when the committee notified me that a five-thousand-dollar deposit into my ranch account had been flagged and told me not to touch it until their financial review was complete, I stopped caring what they wanted.

Five thousand dollars had shown up in my account without my permission. I wanted to know how the fuck that had happened, and more important, why.

I drove to the rodeo grounds, parked near the livestock gates, and headed straight for the office trailer. The place had quieted down since Rodeo Royalty Weekend, but there were still stock trailers parked along the fence and volunteers hauling tables back into storage. Dust hung in the August heat, coating my boots by the time I reached the steps.

The office door wasn’t locked. Inside, it looked like someone had turned three filing cabinets inside out. Folders covered the desk. Sticky notes marked with dates, names, parcel numbers, and enough arrows to make my head hurt clung to the whiteboard.

A woman stood with her back to me, comparing two documents under the glare of a desk lamp.

Her dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she had on a button-down shirt rolled to her elbows. My gaze skidded down to notice the jeans clinging to her backside before I reminded myself I hadn’t come here to hit on the accountant.

She hadn’t heard me come in so I cleared my throat.

She spun around, one hand flying to her chest. “Jesus. You can’t just walk in here.”

“The door was unlocked.”

Her gaze traveled from me to the open door, then back again. Whatever she saw didn’t improve her mood. She yanked off her glasses and set them down on the desk.

“Unlocked doesn’t mean invited. Especially you, Travis Cole.”

So she already knew who I was. That figured. “Then we can skip introductions.”

“I’d rather skip to the part where you were specifically told not to come here.”

Her voice was calm again, but the color hadn’t completely left her cheeks. I stayed near the end of the desk instead of moving any closer.