Page 18 of Oops I Fell For The Rancher Next Door

And I'm done being patient about it.

Epilogue

SHELBY

SIX MONTHS LATER

The fence is gone.

I notice it from the kitchen window while the coffee brews. April sun cutting through the glass, steam rising from the pot, and where the south fence line used to run between our two properties there's nothing but open grass.

Not damaged. Not fallen. Removed. The posts are pulled. The wire is coiled neatly by his truck. The ground is raked.

Cade Holloway took down the fence.

I pour two cups. Walk out in bare feet because the porch boards are solid now, every one of them, and the morning isn't cold anymore. Spring hit Bear Creek Valley all at once. Green everywhere. Wildflowers starting in the meadow. The aspens leafing out along the ridge.

He's standing where the fence used to be. Dirt on his knees. Hat pushed back. Buck grazes in the open space between our properties, wandering back and forth across a line that no longer exists.

"Morning," I say, handing him the coffee. It's real coffee now. A French press from the hardware store, decent beans from Durango. Mabel tried to take credit for the upgrade. I let her.

"Morning."

"You took down the fence."

"I did."

"Between our properties."

"Yep." He drinks the coffee. Wipes his mouth. Looks at me with those brown eyes that still make my pulse skip after six months of waking up next to them.

"Any particular reason?"

"Seemed unnecessary."

"A property fence seemed unnecessary."

"That one did." He sets the mug on a fence post that's leaning against his truck bed. Steps toward me. His hand finds my hip, thumb hooking into the belt loop of my jeans. "The property line's still there on paper. But I figured we could stop pretending it matters."

My heart does something ridiculous. "Cade."

"I filed the paperwork last week. Joint property agreement. Both parcels under both names. Dana looked it over." He reaches into his back pocket. "Kevin's claim was dismissed three months ago. Your lawyer sent the final order Tuesday. The cabin is yours. The land is yours. Nobody can take it."

"I know. Dana called me."

"She called me too." His jaw works. "I asked her about combining the properties. She said as long as both owners consent, it's straightforward."

"You called my lawyer?"

"I called my lawyer. Then she called your lawyer. Then your lawyer called me and asked if I was proposing or just doing a land deal."

My breath stops.

He pulls a small box from his back pocket. Pine. Sanded smooth. The grain catches the morning light.

"I'm not good at speeches. You know that. Griffin coached me through one and I forgot it the second I saw you standing on the porch in bare feet."

"Cade."