Page 175 of Saltwater Cowboy

Wells tugged me toward the kitchen, our steps easy and unhurried. The house was still quiet, the kind of peaceful lull that only came in the early morning before the day had a chance to take off running.

As we walked down the hall, Granger followed behind us like he didn’t want to be left out of whatever was happening.

The kitchen was already warm with the scent of coffee, and Wells went straight for the pot, pouring two mugs. He slid one toward me before leaning back against the counter, taking a slow sip.

I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into my fingers. “What’s the plan for today, boss?”

Wells arched a brow over his mug. “Boss?”

I smirked. “Technically, you’re my boss, aren’t you?”

He made a face, setting his coffee down. “Yeah, I don’t love that.”

“Oh? And what would you rather me call you?”

A slow, teasing smile tugged at his lips. “Boyfriend works.”

I took a sip of coffee, letting the word settle over me. Boyfriend. It was new. It was different. But it felt right.

“Boyfriend, huh?” I mused. “You sure you don’t want me to ease into it? Maybe start with ‘boss’ and work my way up?” I offered a wink, knowing exactly what button I was pushing.

Wells set his coffee down with a groan and pushed off the counter, coming around the island toward me. Before I could react, his hands found my waist, and he lifted me onto the counter like it was nothing.

He braced his arms on either side of me, his face hovering just inches from mine. “How about I make you say it?”

My breath caught. “Make me?”

His grin was downright sinful. “Mhm.”

Heat bloomed in my stomach, but before I could fire back with some witty response, Granger let out a dramatic sigh from the floor, his tail thumping once as if to remind us he was still very much in the room.

Wells exhaled a laugh, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “Cockblocked by a dog. Again.”

I giggled, running a hand through his messy hair. “I think we’ll survive.”

He pulled back just enough to press a quick, lazy kiss to my lips.

And just like that, my heart did that ridiculous flip again—the one that told me I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I let my fingers trail through Wells’ hair, memorizing the moment—the weight of his hands on my hips, the warmth of his breath against my skin, the quiet certainty settling in my chest.

This was it.

Not some grand, sweeping declaration. Not some perfectly scripted ending. Just this. The two of us, standing in a sunlit kitchen with coffee going cold on the counter and a nosy dog watching our every move.

And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Wells pulled back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing absently along the curve of my hip. “What are you thinking about, Sunshine?”

I smiled. “That this feels easy.”

His gaze softened. “It’s supposed to.”

And for the first time in my life, I believed it.

He looked down at me, that easy, lazy smile back in place. “So. What now?”

I thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “Now? Now we feed the horses, drink too much coffee, and argue over what to make for dinner.”