Page 191

My jaw sets. “I am. My parents would love Delilah just as much as I do.”

“I know it.” There’s regret in his voice. For speaking up or for the past, I can’t say.

“Cole?” Delilah lingers at a respectful distance, her slender figure lit up by firelight.

Without looking back, I leave my uncle behind. I head straight for my girl, intertwining my fingers with hers and pulling her close.

Delilah.

For the rest of my life, for as long as my cruel heart beats, it will always be hers.

Epilogue Delilah

Four weeks later

“I think it’s official. I lassoed my forever cowboy.”

The best words in the universe.

I rush into the tasting room, the chilly fall breeze clinging to my bare arms, music blasting around me.

Cole follows, coming through the front door, a rare smile on his rugged face. “Married two hours, and you’re already making me chase you?”

“Too late to get out of it now.” Giggling, I lift my left hand, wiggle my fingers. “See?” My pink and lavender wedding ring sparkles in the distillery lights. With varying floral shapes of pink and purple sapphires surrounding a stunning diamond, Cole gave me a ring as sexy and chaotic as I am.

I bat my lashes. “Besides, what else would you rather be doing?”

He watches me from inches away, his blue eyes dancing in the light as I pull a whiskey bottle and two glasses from the bar. “Maybe drinking whiskey with you.”

“You’re in luck then.” I pour us each a glass of rye and flash him a bright smile. “I like my whiskey like I like my cowboys. At least ten years older than me and made in Montana.”

He laughs, then comes toward me. What a beautiful man I have. His dark hair unruly from his cowboy hat. He looks dapper and rugged, rocking his well-loved Wranglers with a rustic gray tweed vest and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. My cowboy doesn’t wear suits.

Instead of taking the whiskey, he takes me in his arms. “I am in luck.” His deep rumble ignites pulsing heat between my legs. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Cupping my cheek with calloused hands, he dips his head. The sweet graze of his lips against mine makes my breath hitch. I drop my hands to his belt buckle and yank him in closer.

Cole’s obsessed with me. But I know the feeling. I’m obsessed with him myself.

Never over this. Not the feel of my body in Cole’s big arms or his generous heart or this life we’ve managed to build together the last few months.

It’s been a whirlwind.

Cole’s broody and complicated, but he never quits surprising me. The day Cole gave me the ring, he surprised me with a truck bed picnic complete with strawberries and champagne.

It was the best day of my life, and it only got better.

We planned a wedding in a month. Neither of us wanted to wait.

Today, we had a simple, intimate wedding on the ranch in a chapel Cole built for us up in the mountains. Vaughn walked me down the aisle to Sturgill Simpson’s “The Promise.” Currently, our reception is the perfect mix of cowboy and glam. In a sentimental statement that had Cole choking up, I had a local baker recreate Cole’s parents’ three-tiered wedding cake.

But the cherry on top is my dress. I wear a designer strapless minidress with a tulle skirt and white stiletto cowboy boots. I made sure the dress was short enough to expose the blue silk garter on my thigh embroidered with COLE.

Around my neck, I still wear Lucy’s necklace, bullet hole and all.

It’s dark, morbid, and fits perfectly with this new life of mine.

“You okay?” Searching my eyes, Cole runs his hands over my arms, warming them. I catch the brief flinch on his face as he grazes my scar. “You need a break?”