Page 18 of Stealing the Runaway Bride

I stand up and stretch, my muscles groaning. I walk over to the window and look out over the ranch. The western quarter lies pale beneath the pre-dawn light, and ranch hands are already checking every tank and irrigation line. The threat is real. The clock is ticking.

But then I feel a hand on my back.

I turn to find Juliette standing behind me, her eyes still sleepy, her feet bare on the wooden floor.

"You didn't sleep," she says softly.

"I didn't need to."

She looks at the piece of wood in my hand, her eyes widening. "Is that...?"

"A magnolia," I say, handing it to her. "For you."

She takes it, her fingers tracing the rough-hewn petals. "It’s beautiful, Cag. Truly beautiful."

"It’s not finished yet," I remind her.

"I know," she says, looking up at me. "But we have time. Don't we?"

I look out at the drying land, then back at the girl who’s become my entire world in the space of two days.

"We have time enough to do this right," I say, even with the fight already moving toward us.

I pull her into my arms, the scent of her filling my head, drowning out the smell of dust and dry earth. The water threat is real, but so is the resolve settling inside me.

And as the sun starts to rise over Pine Ridge, I know one thing for certain.

I’m never letting her go.

Not for water. Not for land. Not for anything.

She’s mine.

And the world is just going to have to deal with it.

The tension in the room is thick enough to taste, a heady mix of yesterday's heat and today's resolve. I can feel the weight of her against me, her heart beating a steady rhythm against my chest. It’s a sound I want to hear every morning for the rest of my life.

I think about the cabin in the back pasture. The one with the unfinished walls and the roof that’s only half-shingled. I haven't been there in years. I couldn't bear to look at the skeleton of a dream that died.

But as I hold Juliette, the thought of that cabin doesn't hurt anymore. It feels like a challenge. A project. Something that’s waiting for me to come back and finish what I started.

"Cag?" she whispers, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Yeah, princess?"

"What happens now?"

I look out at the horizon, where the sky is turning a pale, hopeful gold.

"Now," I say, my voice firm. "We fight. And we win."

Because a Kramer doesn’t stop fighting when he’s found something worth keeping.

And Juliette?

She’s the woman I’ll stand beside while I fight for every acre on this ridge.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, the silkiness of her hair a stark contrast to the rough wood in my hand. The battle lines are drawn. The enemy is at the gates.