Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
And then, you know, get to the altar to marry the woman of my dreams.
It takes me a good ten minutes to get to Tad’s farm, and I just lay my hand on the horn as I escort his sheep back to his property. The rest of his sheep are still out there somewhere, but fucking hell, I don’t have time to get them home too.
Tad steps out of his front door as I come to a skidding stop in front of his house. And when I look in my rearview mirror, I’m highly suspicious of how goddamn comfortable that sheep looks with the AC blowing on his relaxed face.
Breezy is the first to get out, and she runs up to the house to explain the situation.
I hop out of the driver’s seat and open the door to the back cab to get the sheep out. I’m carrying the chill bastard up toward Tad’s house when he and Breezy meet me halfway.
“I’m really worried about him,” Breezy says in a rush. “I think you should get a doctor here to see him.”
“Don’t worry.” Tad puts a gentle hand to her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.” When he gets a good look at the sheep I’m still fucking holding, sweating like a pig as I do, a small smile forms on Tad’s stupid face.
“That’s Crosby,” Tad updates. “He has a bit of a history of faking injuries to get attention.”
I glare at Tad, and he’s smart enough to take Crosby from me.
“You mean he’s faking?” Breezy questions, a hand going to her lips, a relieved laugh scooting out of her lungs. “He’s okay?”
Tad smiles at her the way I see Tad smile at all the women in Red Bridge, and Breezy gets the same smiley, doe-eyed look on her face when he does it. I don’t know what it is about this sheep farmer—who clearly can’t sheep farm—but women fucking love him.
Eileen Martin does monthly interviews with him for the newspaper, and it isn’t because there’s new shit to tell. It’s because she likes staring at his handsome face for hours while she gets him to talk about God only knows what.
“Okay, great!” I exclaim and clap my hands. “Crosby’s good. And we need to skedaddle.” When Breezy doesn’t make a move to leave, she and Tad still smiling at each other, I put both hands on her shoulders and gently nudge her in the direction of my truck.
It’s time for me to go marry my wife…again. And, you know, make sure everyone knows her name isn’t José.
…
Josie
It’s official. I am Clay Harris’s wife…again. And I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life.
Actually, I know I haven’t.
I spot my husband across the bar. He’s standing beside Marty and his wife, smiling and chatting with them both. God, I love that man.
I don’t know how long I stand there staring at him, but eventually, his eyes meet mine from across the room, and the sexiest kind of smile spreads across his mouth. And it only takes a minute more for him to excuse himself from the conversation with Marty and Sheila and come traipsing over to me.
He pulls me into his arms and presses a slow, deep, delicious kiss to my lips. At one point, he makes a show of dipping me back dramatically. I laugh against his persistent mouth, but I also love every single fucking second of it all.
This is Clay. He’s playful and funny and charismatic and loving and adorable and sexy and all the damn things.
He’s larger-than-life. And he’s the yin to my yang.
The other half of my heart and soul.
It’s a wonder I managed to live without him for all those years. It’s a wonder I managed to survive, but I did, and now, here we are, wrapped up in each other after saying “I do” again mere hours ago.
This is our happily-ever-after, and I don’t expect it to be perfect and I don’t expect it to be without hard times. But I do know that we’ll be together in all the good times and the bad. And that is something to celebrate. That is something to hold on to tightly with both hands and be thankful for.
When Clay finally sets me back on my feet, he wraps his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side. He offers me a sip of his beer while we both look around the room, at everyone who has shown up for us. Everyone we love and adore.
My eyes catch sight of Breezy, and I furrow my brow a little when I see that she’s currently over by the pool tables chatting with Tad Hanson. Clay follows my focus, and a soft chuckle leaves his throat.
“By the way, picking Breezy up from the airport was quite the ordeal.”