Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
With Bridger’s hand in mine, I face him, and in front of everyone we know and love, we exchange traditional vows that have me choking up.
“As long as we both shall live,” I finish, my smile bright because I’m so ready for this next part.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Montana, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, Chief.”
Bridger grins, leans in, covers my mouth with his, and kisses me so long and slow that there are catcalls in the audience.
“I’m so desperately in love with you, Mrs. Blackwell,” he whispers against my lips as the room erupts in applause.
“I love you, too, Chief.”
His eyebrow pops up at that, and a slow smile spreads over his lips, making my core tighten and my panties damp with anticipation. “Oh, kitten. You know better than that.”
Epilogue
BECKETT BLACKWELL
Just when things start to look up at the ranch, something happens to fuck it all up. That seems to be the trend these days, and it’s stressing me the fuck out.
“I’m going into town for one hour,” I tell Brad, my ranch foreman. “I need just one damn hour, and then I’ll be back.”
“You got it, boss,” Brad says with a nod. “I can handle it.”
I peel off my gloves and toss them onto my desk. Grabbing my keys, I get into my truck and head for town. I want a coffee, and while I’m there, I’ll check in on my baby sister. Between Bee and Millie, I’ll get a laugh, and it’ll make me forget about asshole vacationers and equipment that doesn’t want to work like it should.
Equipment that’s costing me too much fucking money.
“Not thinking about it.” I shake my head as I drive into Bitterroot Valley and then park in front of the coffee shop that’s right next door to Billie’s Books, my sister’s place.
First, caffeine.
The bell over the door dings as I walk into the coffee shop, and Millie grins at me with a wave.
“Hey, Beck. How’s it going?”
It’s the shittiest day so far this week. But I don’t say that. Instead, I nod and give her a grin. “It’s all right. How are things in here?”
“Hopping,” she replies and passes me the coffee that I didn’t even have to order because she knows what I like. “Even though the resort burned down in November, there are still a lot of tourists in town for the holidays, and that seems to be extending into January.”
Nodding, I tap my card to the screen, paying for my order. “Yeah, I’m full, too.”
“How’s the guest ranch doing?” she asks, leaning against the counter as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“It’s both great and a pain in my ass.” I sip my coffee, enjoying the way that first jolt hits my system. “I’ll get it figured out with time.”
“I know you will.” Millie winks at me and then turns her attention to more customers. I walk across the room to where the coffee shop opens to the bookstore and stop cold at the vision in front of me.
She’s a little thing, probably no taller than my chest, but at six foot five, most women are significantly shorter than I am. She’s dainty, with fire-red hair and freckles on her flawless face. Her profile shows me a perfect nose and a strong chin, and she’s reading the back of a book, swaying side to side as if she hears music in her head.
Before I can approach her, my phone rings, and I scowl at Brad’s name.
“Beck here,” I say, turning away to look out the window.
“Boss, we need you to come back out here.” When he describes the shit show that’s just gone down at my ranch, I sigh and hang my head.
One fucking hour. That’s all I wanted.
“Be back in twenty.”
I hang up and turn back to see if I can talk to the redheaded beauty, but she’s gone. And I don’t see her when I do a quick scan of the shop.
Not that I have time to date anyone.
With a shake of my head, I push out of the bookstore, frustrated all over again. Adding on to the ranch was meant to be beneficial to the farm and to me. When will something go right in my fucking life?