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Just remind me never to give the two of them a bottle of whiskey and allow them to exchange horse-training techniques. They literally cannot shut up once they start swapping stories.

“You sure you’re going to manage around here without us?” I hit him with a smirk.

Gotta find some way to ignore the butterflies filling my stomach at the thought of officially spending our first Christmas with Flinn’s family. We’ve visited plenty of times before—turns out they live only a three-hour drive from here—but this will be our first time staying under their roof.

I’m more nervous than I should be.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Dad shakes his head at me.

“I feel kinda bad you’ve gotta do everything without us for the next couple of days. Don’t want you putting your back out or breaking a hip or something.”

“Jesus. I’m not ninety, y’know.” He scrubs a palm over his stubble. “Brad, I managed perfectly well by myself all that time you were away studying, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Right …” I roll my eyes, loving how prickly he’s getting. “And you had zero social life as a result.”

He gives me a classic Rhodes shrug. “People are overrated.”

“You’re gonna have to get back on the proverbial horse one of these days.” If there’s anything that can successfully distract me from being nervous about extended time with Flinn’s parents and making a stellar impression—I know I don’t need their permission, but I can’t help feeling the pressure to lock down their support of me eventually marrying their only son—it’s teasing my dad about his hermit lifestyle.

Dad narrows his eyes at me.

“Did you ever even use that dating app I downloaded for you?” I poke my tongue against my cheek, waggling my eyebrows at him.

That leaves him pinching his brow and tipping his head skyward as he mutters beneath his breath. “So fucking help me.” As he looks back down, he scratches at his jaw, then jerks his chin in the direction of our loaded-up vehicle. “Don’t you two need to be getting on the road?”

“Oh, I see right through your classic Rhodes tactic of deflecting the conversation.” My laugh bursts out. “We’ll be back in time for New Year’s Eve. Don’t even worry about that.”

“Do I look like I’m worried?”

“You look like you’re hoping Crimson Ridge will get hit by a snowpocalypse and that the party will be canceled.”

I don’t miss the way that makes his lips twitch as he leads the horse in the direction of the barn. “Hey, if it snows, it snows.” He holds out a flat palm toward the sky. “In fact, feel that? The air’s already thick with ‘Get outta here and take your shit-stirring somewhere else for Christmas.’”

My grin widens as I watch his shoulders and the rump of the horse walking away. “Love you too, Dad. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, happy holidays, or whatever. Text me when you get there,” he hollers without looking back.

Flinn emerges from our cabin—our cozy but perfect home together—carrying Lily in his massive arm like the ginger queen she is. “I packed extra kibble and added more of those pouches of the chicken meals she likes so we don’t accidentally run out …” he mumbles, scrolling his phone to tick off the list of jobs I know he’s got written down. “Her bed and toys are already packed …”

“For a cat who survived winter pretending she didn’t live with me but totally did … I think our tiny troublemaker will be fine.” This cat gets the royal treatment from Flinn every damn day of her life. There’s enough cat food in the back of the truck for a month. We’re going away for a couple of nights.

It’s adorable the way he dotes on her.

It makes me forever swoon off kilter over how good he’ll be as a dad … one day.

We’re definitely not at that place in our lives yet—both of us agree on that front. But someday, we know we’ll have kids.

“C’mon, bring your crown, and you can have a nice nap while we drive, m’lady.” I open the door to the back seat and hold open the front of her cat carrier. She gives a little purr and bunts her head against Flinn’s chin when he lifts her into the waiting truck.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something.” Flinn’s brows furrow as he secures her inside, then shuts the door.

“Pretty sure you’ve actually thought of everything. I’m the one totally winging it without much attention to detail, as always.” I scrunch my nose apologetically. “Although I plan to make up for my lack of lists and planning with a knockout road trip playlist, snacks, and personality.”

“Can’t forget the presents.” Flinn chuckles.

“Look … don’t blame a guy for attempting to buy his future in-laws’ affections.”

My cowboy goes a little pink in the cheeks. He turns from this strong-as-a-mountain figure into a mushy little puddle of bashfulness whenever we talk about those sorts of milestones in our future. The guy has tried to convince me he doesn’t need a ring or a wedding. To which I belly laugh and ask if he even knows anything about me.