Wild Country – Heartlines

San Sequoia
Seaglass Haven

By the time we rolled into San Sequoia, I was already half hoarse from hollerin’ out the damn window. Beau and Cody had been in the truck bed the whole drive, raisin’ hell like two stray dogs that’d learned how to open coolers. First they were throwin’ bottle caps at fence posts, then they were standin’ up every time I hit a bump, then they were bangin’ on the back window tryin’ to get Savannah to pass ’em snacks like we were runnin’ a drive‑thru.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Every time we passed a car with a purdy girl in it, those two fools puffed their chests out and hollered like they were auditionin’ for a show called America’s Next Top Redneck. Beau’d yell, “HOW YOU DOIN’, DARLIN’?” and Cody’d follow it with a wolf whistle so shrill it could peel paint off a barn.

Didn’t matter if she was eighteen or eighty — they hooted at all of ’em like it was a public service.

Then they got bored of that and started makin’ the arm‑pump gesture at every semi we passed, tryin’ to get truckers to blow their horns. And hell if those truckers didn’t oblige — we had eighteen‑wheelers honkin’ like we were leadin’ a parade.

I thought that was the peak of stupidity.

I was wrong.

Somewhere around mile marker 114, I caught sight of ’em in the mirror arguin’ about who had the “better moon.” Before I could even process that sentence, Cody had his thumbs in his belt loops and Beau was eggin’ him on like it was the damn Olympics.

I damn near drove off the road.

I slammed the truck onto the shoulder, threw it in park, and hollered, “IF EITHER ONE OF YA SHOWS ONE INCH OF ASS TO ANOTHER VEHICLE, I SWEAR TO GOD I’M LEAVIN’ YA BOTH AT THE NEXT GAS STATION!”

And that — that right there — was also the moment when my Pa Jack spilled his root beer.

The truck lurched when I pulled over, Cody lost his balance and nearly faceplanted onto the truckbed, Beau caught him and hollered, and Jack’s cup went flyin’ straight into his lap. Cold root beer everywhere.

Jack let out a yell like he’d been shot. “SON OF A—CODY KERSHAW, I’M GONNA TAN YER HIDE, BOY!”

Before I could blink, the man had unbuckled, thrown the door open, and was out on the shoulder chargin’ toward the truck bed like a bull that’d seen red.

Cody screamed laughin’ and vaulted over the side rail, takin’ off down the shoulder like his life depended on it.

Our dad Jack was right behind him, root beer drippin’ off his jeans, swingin’ his boot like he fully intended to kick his grown son square in the ass. They went round and round in circles like that while I facepalmed myself.

Beau was in the truck bed hollerin’ like it was the best entertainment he’d seen in years. “GET ’IM, GRANDPA! KICK HIS ASS—LITERALLY!”

Cody zig‑zagged across the gravel shoulder, yellin’, “IT WAS BEAU’S IDEA! I DIDN’T EVEN SHOW ANYTHING YET! NOTHIN’ HAPPENED, PA, WE WAS JUST HAVIN’ FUN!”

Jack bellowed back, “YOU WERE FIXIN’ TO! THAT’S ENOUGH! AND ALL THAT WITH THREE GIRLS IN THE TRUCK!”

He lunged. Cody dodged. Jack nearly face‑planted into a sagebrush.

And that’s when Izzy got out.

Hands on her hips. Eyes narrowed. Voice sharp enough to slice steel.

“Jack Kershaw, would ya stop this instant before ya throw out your bloody hip!”

Jack froze mid‑lunge like she’d hit him with a tranquilizer dart.

Cody froze too — but only for half a second, because Izzy turned her head and snapped,

“And you—get over here, ya little eejit!”

Cody tried to run.

Izzy caught him.

I don’t know how. I don’t know why physics allowed it. But that woman grabbed her 22‑year‑old son by the back of his shirt like he was still six and draggin’ mud into the house.

Cody yelped, “MAMA—MAMA, WAIT—MAMA, I’M SORRY—”

“No, ya are not,” she said, plantin’ a well‑placed smack against the back of his head — the kind that stung the pride more than the skull — while marchin’ him back toward the truck. “But ya will be if ya ever try moonin’ a family sedan again, ya gobshite.”

My Pa grumbled his way back into the cab, mutterin’ about “disrespectful young’uns,” while Cody climbed back into the truck bed my boy Beau was wheezin’ from laughin’ too hard lookin’ like he’d just witnessed the greatest moment of his life.

Inside the cab was a whole different kind of chaos.

Jack was ridin’ shotgun because Amy had insisted — said his knees didn’t need to be folded up like origami for three hours. He tried to argue, but she just smiled that soft smile of hers and slid into the backseat before he could get a word out. Man never stood a chance.

So the backseat was Amy, Izzy, and Savannah — three generations of women singin’ along to the country station like they’d rehearsed it. Izzy knew every word, Savannah made up half of hers, and Amy was somewhere in between, laughin’ when she missed a line and tryin’ again the next verse. Every now and then she’d lean forward, tap my shoulder, and ask if I needed water or some jerky, which was her polite way of sayin’ I looked stressed.

She wasn’t wrong.

Between the off‑key singin’ inside and the idiots outside, I was drivin’ with one eye on the road and one eye on the rearview mirror, prayin’ nobody fell out or flagged down the cops with their immature nonsense.

By the time we turned onto the street the Camerons’ Seaglass Haven estate was situated on, the whole truck smelled like sunscreen, trail mix, jerky, the root beer my dad had spilled somewhere around mile marker 114, and whatever cologne Cody had bathed in that mornin’ waftin’ in through the back window. I rolled the driver seat window down just to breathe.

Then we rounded the bend, and the driveway came into view.

I slowed to a crawl.

Well, hell.

Connor’s SUV was there — clean, polished, practical, the kind of car a man with a medical center to run and a color‑coded calendar on his phone would drive.

Next to it sat Chris and Cadie’s car, tucked in neat like they’d measured the distance with a ruler.

Then Bri and Brad’s rental — sleek, dark, expensive enough to say we’re doing fine, thanks.

Beside that was Colton and Maddie’s ride — a blacked‑out type o’SUV that looked like it had its own security detail and a minibar in the back.

But the one that made me whistle low was parked dead center like it owned the place.

A glossy, exotic, Del Sol Valley-type monster of a vehicle — all sharp lines, chrome accents, and an iridescent pearl‑white paint job with a gold flip so smooth it looked illegal. The kind of car that cost more than my entire ranch thrice over. The kind of car that came with its own cologne. The kind of car that screamed:

Jasper’s.

Behind me, Beau and Cody exploded like someone had lit a firecracker under ’em.

A sharp whistle cut through the air — then another, louder, like they were tryin’ to summon the damn car over.

“DAD, LOOK AT THAT THING!”

“That’s a freakin’ spaceship!”

More whistles. One of ’em did that two‑finger shriek that could call deaf horses in from three pastures over.

“I bet it goes zero to sixty in like one second!”

“Ya’d scratch it just breathin’ near it!”

A whoop went up — long, loud, and absolutely unnecessary.

“I could totally drive that!”

“No you couldn’t, dumbass, you’d spin out before you hit second gear!”

They were leanin’ over the side rails, slappin’ the roof, yellin’ like they’d just seen Bigfoot ridin’ a unicorn.

I stuck my head out the window one last time. “Sit down before you fall out and die in front of Chase and Hailey’s house!”

They sat. Sort of.

And right then, sittin’ in my dusty, rusty, beat‑up truck with two idiots in the bed and my whole family crammed in like sardines, I knew exactly who I was askin’ for help.

Jasper.

Because if anyone knew diamonds, proposals, and how not to screw up a grand gesture, it was the man who moisturized twice a day and drove a car that looked like it could fly.

I put the truck in park and let out a long breath.

Turning to my dad, I said, “Glad to have ya home, but damn, Beau was easier to handle without yer other son instigatin’ all the damn time.”

Jack laughed, opening the passenger-side door and hollering back, “Knock it off, ya two monkeys, and pretend ya wasn’t raised on no farm!”

The confused glares they shot at him and then at each other were priceless as we all filed out and headed toward the house. Since nobody was out front to greet us, I figured they already had a full house and missed us arrivin’.

Big Entrance

The second we stepped through the door, Hailey was on us like she’d been launched from a catapult — champagne flute in hand, bubbles still rising. She wrapped me up, kissed my cheek, then pulled back with that bright, excited spark in her eyes.

“Oh my gosh, Jack! Izzy! You’re finally here! So good to see you again! Come in, come in!” she squealed, already moving past me to hug my dad and my stepmom like she’d been waiting all morning.

Before I could even catch my breath, Bri swooped in — champagne flute in hand just like her momma before her — kissed my cheek and gave me a quick squeeze that smelled like her fancy perfume and home all at once.

“Hi, handsome. Briony, Beckett, and the other kids are in the pool,” she said, then immediately turned her attention to Amy, looping an arm through hers. “Amy, hi again. Come in and meet everyone! You like champagne or what’s your poison? Have you ever heard of Blaine Cameron? We’ve got Senior and Junior in the house today, and Scarlett is around too. They don’t show up a lot to family weekends… You haven’t met my sister Iris, right, or her husband Jasper? Oh, you have to, he’s my best friend, and his parents. They were just here …”

Brad lifted a hand from where he was leanin’ against the counter, givin’ us a warm, polished wave. And normally, that alone would’ve had my blood boilin’ — hell, just hearin’ him talk in that perfect voice with those perfect damn sentences used to make my teeth itch. But standin’ there in that kitchen, watchin’ him smile at Amy like she was already part o’ the family… nothin’. Just a nice guy sayin’ hello. Huh. How ’bout that?

“Welcome. Good to see you again,” he said, smiling at Amy like she was already part of the family.

I smiled back politely while tippin’ my hat, and somebody pressed a champagne flute into my hand. Not my usual gear, but after the drive I’d just survived, hell — I’d’ve drunk kerosene.

Amy barely had time to blink before Bri was tugging her deeper into the house, chattering as she went, pointing here and there. I had to smile. She fit right in, even if she didn’t know it yet.

Behind me, Beau and Cody were still vibrating with leftover car excitement, practically tripping over each other as they tried to follow the noise and the people and the promise of snacks. Until they spotted Jasper, who had just stepped out of the downstairs guest bath, drying his hands on a towel like he’d been filming a commercial for luxury soap.

Both boys froze. Then they detonated.

“JASPER! That your car out front?” Cody hollered, already halfway across the room.

“Man, that thing looks like it could fly! How fast does she go?!” Beau added, practically bouncing.

Jasper lit up like someone had turned on a spotlight. “Ah, my adoring public. Yes, that is my car. Yes, it’s beautiful. Yes, it’s fast. And yes—” he dug into his pocket, fishing for his keys, “—you may absolutely take it for a spin.”

I was across the hall before he even finished the sentence.

“Hell no,” I said, grabbing his arm before he could hand over anything metallic. “It’d be safer to roll that dang thing off a cliff than let these two behind the wheel. Beau, Cody, go find somethin’ to eat, y’all been on about snacks half the drive. Git!”

Jasper blinked at me, then at the boys, then back at me. “Wow. Someone’s in a mood. Who lit your tampon on fire, my friend?”

“C’mon,” I muttered, already dragging him down the hall.

“Wait—what—Jackson—cowboy—slow down—”

I shoved him into the guest bathroom and shut the door behind us, locking it before he could escape.

He turned around, hands up, eyebrows halfway to his hairline.

“Okaaaaaay, I missed you too, but you didn’t even bring me flowers. Buy me dinner first. Please tell me you at least brought lube.”

“Jas,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face, “I ain’t in the mood.”

“Yeah, I can see that. You’re in some kind of mood,” he said, straightening. “What happened? Did we go on a drunken bender again? Are we plotting the next how‑to‑win‑back‑Bri plot?”

“No! I need your help.”

He froze. “Oh. It’s serious serious.”

“Yeah.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “Alright. Hit me.”

I took a breath. “I love her.”

“Which one?” he asked, like there was any other option.

“Amy, ya dingbat! Bri and I are through, fer good. Figured she told ya.”

“If I had a dollar for every time she told me that, I’d be… well… richer than I already am.”

“Jasper!”

“Sorry. Got it. No more Bri. Continue.”

“I wanna get her a ring.”

His whole face lit up. “WOW! Dayum! Oh my God, yes. I love me a good happy ending! Okay. What’s the budget?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, you have to give me something to work with here.”

“I don’t know. What’s a good price range?”

“What did you pay last time? Or should I say, the last times, plural?”

“Nothing. I gave Bri my late momma’s ring. And Boone… never mind.”

“Let’s see. Do you want classic? Something one‑of‑a‑kind? Something that says ‘I’m a rugged cowboy but I know what a cuticle is’? Yellow diamond? Vintage? Modern? Something that looks like it belongs on the hand of a woman who grew up in upscale San Myshuno but now roughs it out at your ranch? Yeah, Bri told us that part.”

“I ain’t got a clue, Jas. I just know it’s gotta be right.”

He nodded, already mentally flipping through catalogs. “We’ll figure it out. Something elegant, something intentional, something that says you didn’t just wander into a store and point at the first shiny thing. I got a few stores in mind. Assume you wanna do it here?”

“Well, depends on how much it’ll set me back. Might need to sell a couple horses off.”

“Okay, just a question, but… why not use your late mom’s ring for her? Isn’t that special?”

“Bri’s got it. I ain’t asking for it back.”

“Why not? She only has one left ring finger and that one has the rock Brad gave her on it. Listen, I know she’s been meaning to give it back to you, but didn’t want to open another can of worms now that things are finally looking good for everyone here. I’m pretty sure she has it in the safe here, in case you wanted to give it to Briony, so that’ll be an easy fix. I’ll ask her so you don’t have to.”

“Appreciate it.”

“But wait,” he said, holding up a finger. “Are we talking proposal? Because if so, we need to talk location.”

“That’s the other thing I wanted yer help with. I don’t know where. She’s from a big city, but her home is the Ridge and I just don’t know which way to turn.”

“Okay. The Ridge is the obvious choice. Horses, sunset, sentimental, very you. But—hear me out—you’re in San Sequoia. Fancy dinner. You clean up. We’ll throw something extra-fancy on her, one of the ladies here is bound to have something that works. I am seeing it in my head now: here you are looking fancy AF, she looks incredible. You take her to a real nice dinner—don’t worry, I have a list—you walk her out after dessert, quiet moment, hand her a long‑stemmed Baccara rose, hit one knee and—boom.”

I nodded. “That’s what I was thinkin’. Somethin’ nice. Somethin’ special.”

He grinned. “Well, I am loving it already. Once the party has died down some, we’ll get on my wifey’s laptop, cos Iris doesn’t even get the mail without that thing growing out of her hand, and you take your pick. I’ll call the restaurant—they’re not gonna say no to Jasper Hargrave needing a reservation and maybe a special menu. Hailey knows florists. And I’ll get Bri to grab that ring. Oh, and congrats on the next Mrs. Kershaw in the making. Bri really likes her, so does Brad, and even Hailey and Chase were signing her praises so she must be fucking special, my brother. Can’t wait to meet that gem.”

I hugged him. He patted me on the back. “Gotta say, makes me kinda emotional knowing you came to me. Real special to be part of your big plan, cowboy.”

Party People

Jasper and I walked out of the bathroom like nothing had happened. The house was louder now — laughter bouncing off the walls, music drifting from the kitchen, kids yelling from somewhere outside.

It felt like walking straight into a storm of people I loved.

We mingled for a bit, Jasper drifting off to find Iris, me getting pulled into three different conversations before I even made it to the living room. Someone had set up a buffet along the long counter — sliders, fruit trays, chips, dips, Keira’s deviled eggs, and something Maddie made that looked like it belonged on a cooking show.

Beau and Cody had already raided the buffet, plates piled high like they hadn’t eaten in weeks, sitting with the crew — Briony drifting in from the pool, her boyfriend Beckett Ashby debatin’ with Brad’s oldest son Graham about something on his phone, and Brad’s oldest daughter Lauren tucked close to Blaine Cameron Jr. It made me smile. Felt… whole. Like all the pieces of my life were finally in the same room, not fighting each other.

I stepped back for a moment, just taking it all in.

My dad Jack and his wife Izzy were laughing with Keira over something Connor said — and Connor had one long arm slung across Dad’s shoulders. Jack’s in his sixties now, rugged as ever, salt‑and‑pepper hair brushing his collar, but next to Connor — tall, tan, blond, blue‑eyed, built like a retired linebacker who still hits the gym for fun — he looked almost small.

Didn’t matter. Jack leaned right into him, grinning like a fool.

Connor said something else — probably somethin’ smart‑mouthed — and Jack barked out a laugh, giving him a shove that didn’t budge the man an inch. Connor just threw his head back, laughing louder, squeezing Jack’s shoulder like he’d been waiting years to do it again.

Bri’s sister Iris was perched on the arm of a chair, talking animatedly with Hailey, hands flying as she reenacted something dramatic. Jasper was across from them, mid‑story himself, using his whole upper body to demonstrate whatever nonsense he was describing — half the room was doubled over laughing.

And then there was Amy.

She was standing with Scarlett, Blaine Sr., Chase, and Brad — champagne flute in hand, head thrown back, wheezing with laughter at something Blaine Sr. had just said. She looked… free. Lit up from the inside. Like she belonged here, in this chaos, in this family, in this moment.

My chest tightened in a way I wasn’t ready for.

I walked over, slid an arm around her waist, and she leaned into me without even looking, still laughing. When she finally turned her head, her smile softened, and she kissed me — quick, warm, but it shot straight through me, all the way to my toes.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“Hey,” I said, trying not to grin like an idiot.

We stayed like that for a minute, just listening to the noise around us, her hand resting on my chest like it belonged there. And for the first time in a long damn time, everything felt right.

That’s when I felt eyes on me.

I glanced up and saw Briar Rose across the room, standing with a small group near the fireplace. She must’ve caught the tail end of that kiss, because her expression softened — not sad, not wistful, just… proud. Warm.

She lifted her glass in a tiny toast and winked.

I nodded back, something deep and steady settling in my chest. Twenty‑five years of trying, failing, loving, hurting, circling back, burning out, and finally letting go — all distilled into one quiet exchange across a crowded room.

We’d always love each other. Just not like that anymore.

And for the first time, that truth didn’t sting.

It felt like peace.

Plotting Romance

Later, when the sun dipped low and the noise mellowed into that soft, golden‑hour hum, Jasper caught my eye and jerked his head toward the guest house. Iris followed, laptop tucked under her arm. I kissed Amy’s temple, told her I’d be right back, and slipped out with them.

The guest house was quiet, warm, familiar — the place Jasper and Iris always stayed when they were here. I usually stayed in the main house, except the first time Amy came out, just to give her space to get acquainted. Bri and Brad had the pool house this trip, same as always. We settled around the little coffee table, Iris opening her laptop while Jasper paced like he was preparing for a movie role.

“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands. “Restaurants. Let’s find the perfect one. We need classy, not too flashy, nothing off‑the‑wall. Trad‑leaning, but not yawn. Good food, something special — the kind of place you remember when you think back on the proposal later on.”

We were halfway through debating menus when a soft knock sounded. Before any of us could answer, Briar Rose slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She didn’t say a word — just walked straight to me, pressed a small ring box into my hand, and wrapped her arms around me.

I hugged her back, throat tightening.

Iris groaned. “Oh my God, don’t you start with buyer’s remorse. You love Brad now, remember? Hands off the cowboy merchandise.” She hooked an arm around her twin and tugged her back a step.

“Hey now,” I muttered, wiping at my eyes. “Ain’t no merchandize.”

Bri rolled her eyes at Iris. “And I don’t have buyer’s remorse, you biatch. I’m just so fucking happy for him.” She looked at me again, softer. “I won’t have to worry about you anymore.”

That hit harder than I wanted it to.

“Thanks, Bri,” I said quietly.

She squeezed my arm once more and sat beside Iris like she’d been part of the planning committee all along.

“Alright,” she said. “I lived here the longest and got all the tea. I have a few ideas. Here — let me have the keyboard.”

We spent the next twenty minutes arguing about lighting, noise levels, and whether edible flowers were romantic or pretentious. Eventually, we landed on a place that made everyone happy — upscale, warm, quiet, with a view of the water.

Jasper grabbed his phone, made the call, and within minutes had a reservation, a custom dessert, and a promise of a corner table.

He scribbled something on a notepad, tore off the page, and handed it to me.

“Time, address, maître d’. Don’t lose it.”

I tucked it into my wallet like it was the winning lottery ticket.

Bri stretched. “Okay. Now we gotta set up the plot, something believable and inconspicious or we might as well just tell Amy that Jackson is taking her to a dinner where he will propose.”

Jasper raised a finger. “What does every city girl live for — the thing that makes her wanna go out to dinners and dancing?” He pointed at his wife like a schoolteacher.

“Spa day!” Iris said. “I love you, Jas. Yes!”

Bri perked up. “Briony loves spa days, and so does Lauren. If we take the girls, Amy won’t think anything of it.”

“Anastasia does too,” Iris added. “The more the merrier. Amy won’t have a clue. She’ll just think it’s something we do.”

Jasper raised a hand. “I also love spa days. And our cowboy here looks a bit rough around the edges.”

Iris didn’t even look at him. “You can give each other facials then. Sorry, babe — and Jackson — girls only.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“We’ll ask Keira, Mom, Maddie, and Izzy,” Bri said, already plotting. “We’ll get Amy sparkling and shining and feeling like a million bucks.”

“Then we tell her Jackson’s takin’ her to a great new restaurant,” Iris said.

“Too obvious,” Jasper cut in. “She’ll sniff that out before you finish talking. Nah, this needs finesse.”

“Jas is right,” Bri agreed. “So we make it a double‑date situation. I would volunteer, but Brad and I have to fly back out at noon tomorrow — he has an investor meeting Monday morning, and I have a TV performance in San Myshuno Sunday night. I need to practice and get in the right zen mood. Means we won’t be here tomorrow evening. So Iris and Jasper go with you guys. Like… more bonding or something.”

“Then,” Iris said, eyes gleaming, “on the drive, one of us gets a call from you or Brad. We pretend it’s something brand-urgent for work — his or mine, we’ll figure that out. So instead, we drop them off at the restaurant and pretend to have to high-tail it home. Don’t worry, Jackson — we’ll book a limo, drop you two off, Jas and I go back here, and by the time the deed is done, it’ll be waiting for you two.”

Jasper snapped his fingers. “Perfect. She’ll think it’s just a nice dinner with friends now that the ladies all look hubba-hubba. Zero suspicion. And bonus — nothing like a nice private celebration in the back of a limousine afterward, wink wink. Ask me how I know.” Grinning, he wiggled his eyebrows while Iris rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, mature. And I tapped that. Worse yet: I married it.”

Jasper grimaced at his wife, then said with his usual flair.

“Yeah, lucky girl. You know how many million women want a piece of me? I might just trade you in for a more appreciative wifey.”

“Keep talking like that and there will be plenty of Jasper-shreds of you to go around,” Iris hissed. Nothing to worry about — just the way these two had always been. Just their way of expressing their love.

“Oooh, I am almost as excited as if I were being proposed to again,” Bri said, looking at me with a grin that was half mischief, half… hell, the only word for it was sisterly pride. “The proposal is a hundred percent surprise. Oh, but someone has to call me after and tell me how it went! I want deetz!”

“Girl, you know I gotcha,” Iris giggled.

My chest tightened — nerves, excitement, something warm and terrifying all at once.

“Thanks all y’all for helpin’ me plan this whole thing out,” I said.

Jasper slung an arm around my shoulders. “Of course we are, big guy. We’re friends. And family. And you only do this once.”

Iris snorted. “HA! You mean… ideally. Jackson loves the thrill of it all so much he had to do it twice, thrice, four times.”

Bri elbowed her. “Shut up.”

I laughed, shaking my head, staring down at the ring box in my hand.

“I had that cleaned when… uh… well… ya know. When I wasn’t wearing it anymore,” Bri said softly. “I thought maybe you might need it someday… or give it to Briony. Now I’m glad I did. It’s nice and sparkly, like new.”

I flipped open the box, and she wasn’t kidding. It sparkled in a blinding way.

For the first time, it all felt real.

And right.

Bri tapped her nails on the coffee table. “Okay, restaurant is handled. Got the ring. Jackson still has his Brioni suit in the closet of the poolhouse, since, according to him, he has no use for such an expensive thing at the ranch. So unless you put on poundage, we’re good there.”

Giggling, she poked my midsection; laughing, I swatted her off.

“Ain’t got no time to sit around get fat, Bri. Yer son and my horses see to that.”

“Oh hush.” She rolled her eyes — and outta pure habit, her hand drifted right back, this time givin’ a light rub across the spot where a dad‑bod might’ve been. Not teasing. Not flirtin’. Just that old familiar gesture she’d done for twenty‑five years without thinkin’.

I caught her hand gently, holdin’ it there against my shirt. For a heartbeat, we just looked at each other — nothin’ romantic, nothin’ messy. Just two people who’d chased each other half their lives, raisin’ kids and weatherin’ storms, rememberin’ all of it in a single quiet second.

She squeezed my fingers once, soft, then pulled back with a crooked smile.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “I think I see a tiny hint of dad‑bod. Suits you, though. Anyway—now we gotta figure out what she’s wearing. First step: what size is she?”

Iris turned to me. “Yeah, Jackson. What size is Amy?”

Three sets of eyes locked on me.

I froze like a deer in headlights.

“I… uh…” I swallowed. “She’s… woman‑sized? Slender, firm, but soft in all the right places?”

Iris blinked. “Oh puke. That’s not a size.”

Bri snorted. “Try again, cowboy.”

I lifted both hands helplessly. “Look, I ain’t never asked her what number she is. I don’t even know if that’s a thing a man’s supposed to ask his woman. I just know she looks real good in whatever she puts on. And even better without… uh… well. She’s got a nice figure. That’s all I know.”

Jasper sighed dramatically. “Useless. Charming and romantic in that saccharine, cowboy‑poetry kinda way, but absolutely useless. God love him.”

Iris and Bri traded glances — that silent twin‑telepathy thing they did, same as my twins did.

“Eight?” Iris guessed.

“Six or eight US,” Bri countered. “Twelve if we’re thinking Tartosian.”

Iris shook her head. “Well, I’m out then. She has boobs for days. Mine didn’t even get that big while breastfeeding.”

“Same,” Bri said. “I do have curves, but not like her, cos I have to keep my ass tight to fit in my stage outfits.”

Jasper shrugged. “Well, it’s not me. Unless she wants to wear one of my silk robes, which — honestly — she’d look fabulous in, but I don’t think that’s the vibe.”

Grinning, Iris pointed at him. “Wow, that was actually funny, babe.”

Jasper bowed.

I cleared my throat. “Well… I’d join in jokin’, but truth be told, she has been wearin’ my clothes a lot lately, so I know for a fact she’s a lot smaller’n me. Storm took out most of what she owned, and there ain’t exactly a ladies’ boutique within a hundred miles.”

All three of them froze.

Then—

“EXCUSE me?” Iris gasped.

Bri slapped a hand over her heart. “She lost her whole wardrobe and you didn’t TELL us? Okay, guys, I fully expect someone to take that poor woman shopping this weekend before they leave again! I would do it, but like I said, Braddy and I have to leave no later than noon tomorrow right after the girls’ day out at the spa.”

Jasper threw both hands in the air. “A TRAGEDY. A CRIME. A HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATION. My God, the poor woman has been forced into MEN’S CLOTHES? I am taking that poor thing shopping myself! What the hell, man!?”

I shrugged helplessly. “She looks cute in my shirts… and we only got one clothing store in town, and that’s mostly overpriced fancy western wear which nobody in their right mind would wear on the daily. Me and the kids get work clothes at the feed store.”

Jasper made a strangled noise like he might faint.

Bri continued, “Yeah, I am just not gonna comment on that. Jas, I trust you’ll get poor Amy into some decent clothing she can actually wear at Jackson’s ranch, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” She exhaled sharply, refocusing. “Okay, so we’re guessing based on body type. Iris is too small. I’m too… not small, but not like her. Keira and Maddie are tiny and more straight types. Izzy is slender and voluptuous, but she doesn’t own anything fancy enough.”

Iris snapped her fingers. “Mom.”

Bri nodded. “Mom.”

Jasper lit up. “YES. Hailey. She’s closest to Amy’s shape — soft curves, tiny waist, classy as hell.”

Iris added, “And she’s got that emerald dress. The one with the slit.”

“Or the navy one,” Bri said. “That one’s magic. And has a slit too. I really am feeling a slit for her.”

Iris laughed. “We can plan all we want — we’re gonna need her there to decide. If we just hand her something we guessed on and we picked wrong, Amy’s gonna look like a pressed sausage.”

“Eew.” Bri grimaced.

“Hey now,” I said, frowning.

Jasper patted my shoulder. “Relax, cowboy. That’s why we plan these things. You’re overthinking it, ladies. Spa day, she’ll be floating. She’ll know y’all are going somewhere nice for dinner — double date, blah blah — so you just drag her into Hailey’s closet and voilà. Try your way through it till something makes everyone hear angels singing.”

“Well, we need to run this by Mom and hope she agrees, or we all will hear angels singing if she catches us digging through her clothes without asking,” Bri said.

Jasper dramatically raised his arms. “Bri! If you look up ‘hopeless romantic’ in a dictionary, you find your mom’s picture. Tell her what we’re doing and she’ll drag Amy in there and dress her herself. Like, literally.”

Bri added, “And we love Amy. We’re not putting her in anything that doesn’t make her feel gorgeous.”

Iris smirked. “It’s gonna be so fucking perfect, Jackson will pass out.”

“Thinkin’ y’all are right about that part,” I muttered.

Bri grinned, wrapping an arm around me, drawing me close. “Oh, you’ll be fine.”

The planning dissolved into laughter and bickering — Bri already texting Hailey like the mission commander of a covert op. I watched them for a moment, all of them plotting and scheming for me, for Amy, for something good.

My throat tightened.

These people were my people. My family, some by blood, most by choice. My chaos. My heart.

I slipped out quietly, the ring box still warm in my pocket, and went to find Amy. She was on the patio, laughing at something Scarlett said, sunlight catching in her hair like it had been waiting for her.

And standing there, watching her glow in the middle of all these people who loved her already…

I felt blessed in a way I didn’t have words for.
Blessed, and ready.

The Big Day

By breakfast the next mornin’, the house was already buzzin’. The women were in rare form — coffee in hand, hair up, plottin’ like generals before a battle. Amy didn’t suspect a damn thing. She just laughed when Bri looped an arm through hers and said, “Spa day, babe. Mandatory. Don’t argue.”

I watched ’em all file out the front door — Bri, Iris, Hailey, Izzy, Maddie, Keira, Briony, Lauren, Anastasia, and my girl right in the middle of ’em, smilin’ like she’d been adopted into a coven of glamorous witches.

The door shut behind ’em.

Silence.

Then the weight of the day hit me like a freight train doin’ ninety.

I died a thousand deaths before noon.

By five, I was pacin’ the livin’ room like a caged bull. We had to leave soon, Jasper and I were already in our suits, mine was suffocatin’ the life clean outta me. Jasper sat on the couch, legs crossed, sippin’ tea like he was at a damn spa himself.

“Jackson,” he said, not lookin’ up from his phone, “you’re wearing a hole in the floor. Sit.”

“I can’t sit,” I muttered, feelin’ like my skin didn’t fit right.

“You can. You will. Sit.”

So I sat. For three whole seconds.

Then Chase walked in from the kitchen with a glass of bourbon.

“Something to take the edge off, kiddo,” he said, handin’ it over.

Jasper jumped up and snatched it mid‑air. “Chase, my man, we need his head clear and in the game here.”

I grabbed that whiskey right outta Jasper’s hand and gulped it like a damn Slurpee. Didn’t help worth a lick.

That’s when I heard heels on the stairs behind Chase. He stepped aside, Jasper stood up, and we all stared.

And I choked.

Amy stood in the doorway like she’d stepped outta a magazine — or maybe heaven.

For a second, I damn near did one of those cartoon‑wolf reactions — eyes buggin’ out, jaw hittin’ the floor, tongue practically rollin’ out like a carpet as if I’d lost all higher brain function. Felt my whole system short‑circuit clean through. All that actually made it outta my mouth was a low, “Lord have mercy.”

Her hair was soft waves, brushed over one shoulder, glossy and warm like honey in the sun. Her makeup was subtle but perfect — glowing skin, soft rose lips, eyes lined just enough to make ’em look impossibly big and bright. Hailey had put her in this navy dress — long, sleek, clingin’ in all the right places. It hugged her waist, skimmed her hips, and had a slit up the side that hit mid‑thigh. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy. But it was her. And it was perfect.

She didn’t look like Amy.

She looked like the version of her I saw in my head when I thought about forever.

Then her eyes lifted — and landed on me.

And she froze.

Her breath hitched, lips parting just a little. She blinked once, slow, like she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Her gaze dragged down the Brioni suit, the clean shave, the polished shoes — the whole version of me she’d never seen before.

“Jackson…” she whispered, almost like she didn’t trust her own voice. “You… wow. WOW!”

Her cheeks flushed, and she actually had to look away for a second, like staring straight at me was too much.

“Umm, you look absolutely fantastic,” she tried again, softer now, shy in a way I’d never seen on her. “Do I look okay?”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink.

Jasper elbowed me. “Say words, cowboy.”

“You… you look…” I swallowed hard. “Jesus, Amy.”

She laughed, but it came out breathless, her eyes flicking over me again like she couldn’t help herself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured — and this time, she was blushing because of me.

The limousine pulled up out front, and I swear my heart rate doubled. Jasper kept whisperin’ things like “Breathe,” and “Stop sweating,” while Iris fussed with Amy’s hair and told her she looked like a goddess.

We climbed in, and the second the door shut, the world went quiet.

Amy sat across from me at first, hands folded in her lap, cheeks still pink from earlier. I caught her lookin’ at me. She caught me lookin’ at her. We both jerked our eyes away like a couple of teenagers.

Then it happened again.

And again.

Until we both just… laughed. Soft, embarrassed, giddy.

She finally sat next to me, scooted closer, knees brushing mine. I didn’t think — I just reached out and took her hand, warm and small in my palm, and set it on my thigh.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled. Then one of them wandered, just a little.

My eyes snapped to hers. Hers snapped to mine. She giggled, leaning in, whispering, “Just had to make sure you’re real.”

I didn’t even get a word out before she kissed me — soft, quick, sweet, like she couldn’t help herself.

A camera shutter clicked.

We both jumped apart like we’d been electrocuted.

Jasper cackled from the opposite seat, phone raised. “Oh my GOD, that’s going in the family chat.”

Amy covered her face, laughing. I felt my ears go hot. We both kept sneaking glances at each other, blushing like fools.

And then — just when everything felt perfect — the call came.

Jasper’s phone buzzed. He answered, nodded dramatic as hell, then turned to us with a tragic sigh.

“Well, the rough side of fame. Work emergency. I gotta get back to DSV ASAP. Sorry guys but we need to round up the kids and floor it back homewards. But the restaurant is right here — we’ll drop you two off. You go enjoy for all of us.”

Amy blinked. “Oh no! We can reschedule …”

“Nonsense! Reservations are made and they get cranky if you cancel last minute. You two enjoy, you know how to eat, don’t need us for that.” Iris said quickly. As an attorney it was near impossible to catch her off guard with anything.

“Rain check,” Iris said, kissing her cheek. “Go. Eat. Have fun, and remember: you’re a goddess.”

And just like that, they were gone.

Leavin’ me and Amy standin’ on shaky legs in front of the nicest damn restaurant in San Sequoia.

Dinner

The maître d’ greeted us like we were royalty. The table was perfect — candles, soft lightin’, a view of the water turnin’ gold in the sunset. Amy kept lookin’ around like she’d stepped into a dream.

“Jackson,” she whispered, “this is… this is beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her cheeks flushed. She reached across the table and took my hand, and I swear my heart damn near burst.

Dinner was perfect. She laughed, she glowed, she looked happier than I’d ever seen her. And when dessert came — a custom chocolate thing with gold leaf Jasper had insisted on — I knew it was time.

“Come with me,” I said soft as I could.

She followed me to a private balcony overlookin’ the water. The air was warm, the sky streaked pink and orange, the world quiet except for the soft sound of waves.

I pulled the long‑stemmed Baccara rose from behind my back — deep red, almost black, velvety as sin.

Her breath caught. “Jackson…”

I took her hand.

“Amy… I ain’t good with fancy words. I ain’t perfect. I ain’t even close. But I know what I feel. And I know I ain’t never loved anyone the way I love you. You’re my peace. My joy. My home. And the purdiest lil thing I ever laid eyes on. I wanna spend the rest of my life makin’ damn sure you know that.”

I dropped to one knee.

Her hands flew to her mouth.

“Amy Lynn Mercer … will you marry me?”

She didn’t even let me finish the sentence before she nodded so hard her hair bounced.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder. “Yes. Yes!”

I slid the ring on her finger — my mama’s ring, cleaned and shinin’ like new — and she threw her arms around me, laughin’ and cryin’ all at once.

We stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the world soft and perfect around us.

When we went back in, we were met with applause and the piano player congratulated us through the microphone. I hated it, but Amy felt like a queen, so I just smiled.

We finished dessert, I found out the bill had been taken care of, so I thanked the staff and we stepped outside into the warm night air to wait for the limo, still floatin’ in that soft haze of she said yes. Folks were movin’ all around us — laughin’, talkin’, waitin’ on their cars. Nothin’ outta the ordinary. Just a regular night for everybody but me.

Amy leaned into me, snugglin’ up like she was tryin’ to crawl under my skin, her fingers brushin’ that ring over and over like she couldn’t believe it was real. I closed my eyes a second, lettin’ the breeze hit my face, lettin’ the whole damn moment settle deep in my bones.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Then her whole body went stiff as a fence post.

She jerked so hard it knocked the breath outta me.

Before I could ask what was wrong, she turned into me, buryin’ her face in my chest like she was hidin’ from a tornado.

“Jackson,” she whispered, voice shakin’ so bad it cut straight through me, “please… please can we go? Right now. Please.”

My heart kicked hard. I didn’t know what she saw. Didn’t know who. But I knew fear when I heard it.

“Yeah, darlin’,” I murmured, wrappin’ an arm around her. “Limo’s right here.”

The driver opened the door. I guided her in gentle as I could. She curled into the corner, eyes wide and glassy, breath comin’ too fast.

I was just about to climb in after her when a voice behind me said, loud and smug:

“Well. Isn’t this precious.”

I turned. Didn’t recognize him — mid‑fifties, silver hair, expensive suit, that private‑beach tan. Never seen the fella before, so I figured he had the wrong person.

But he wasn’t lookin’ at me.

He was starin’ straight into the limo.

At Amy.

Her breath hitched like she’d been punched.

I stepped halfway inside, blockin’ her from view. “Can I help ya? Buddy, ya got the wrong person. It’s okay, darlin’. I’m right here.”

She shook her head, eyes beggin’. “Jackson, please just get in. Please.”

I was about to shut the door when the man laughed — sharp, practiced, the kinda sound that makes your skin crawl.

He looked me over like he was appraisin’ livestock.

“Nice suit,” he said. “Didn’t expect our Amy to upgrade quite this much. Younger model in Brioni — not bad. You look like you’re in sports, am I right? Must be doing very well for yourself. Don’t know how she pulled that off.”

Je knew her name? Upgrade. Sports. Doin’ well.
He thought I was loaded.
And then it hit me.

Him!

Oh hell no!!!

The fella who’d spent years grindin’ her down to nothin’, then tossed her aside like trash. Took every bit of confidence and self-worth this girl might have ever had. Oh, it was hard not to do and say what I really wanted to.

I kept my voice even, careful not to let my temper ruin this perfect night. “We’re leavin’. Y’all have a good night now.”

I reached for the door.

He kept talkin’.

Of course he did.

“Has she tried anchoring herself yet? Women like her always do. Get a bun in the oven, and suddenly you’re paying’ for the rest of your life. For them and that anchor-kid nobody asked for.”

My jaw locked so tight it hurt. “Why don’t y’all run along now.”

He didn’t.

He stepped closer, lowerin’ his voice like we were conspirin’.

“Listen. You and I should talk sometime. Man to man. I can explain how she operates. Fun little thing, sure, obedient enough, but she’s gettin’ close to her expiration date. Men like us can always use another friend who gets it, am I right? Let’s talk.”

He winked at me, then slipped a business card into my jacket pocket.

That was it.

The line. The snap.

I smiled — slow, mean. “How ’bout right now?”

Before he could blink, I grabbed his arm — and because I’m a good half‑foot taller and built from a lifetime of throwin’ hay bales and breakin’ horses, he barely touched the pavement as I walked him — calm as Sunday mornin’ — across the courtyard toward the decorative pond. His polished loafers kept skippin’ off the ground like he couldn’t get traction, legs scramblin’ to keep up with me.

Ducks scattered, flappin’ like they’d seen a ghost.

“What are you—HEY—!”

I tossed him in.

Full suit. Designer shoes. Phone. Wallet. All of it went for a nighttime swim.

He hit that water with a splash big enough to send ripples clear across the damn night. Ducks took off complainin’ like I’d ruined their whole evenin’.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out his card, and read the name out loud.

“Topher Dirk Kingsley the Third.” I snorted. “Sweet baby Jesus, with a name like that I’d’ve kept all my opinions to mah damn self. Bless yer heart.”

I flicked the card into the pond.

“Well, listen here… Topher… good talk. Now if ya ’scuse me, my fiancée an’ me gotta get on home an’ make us a couple kids. Don’t drown now. Come to think of it… do.”

I turned, walked back to the limo, and slid inside.

Amy stared at me — stunned, wide‑eyed — for half a heartbeat.

Then she burst out laughin’, tears streamin’ down her cheeks.

“Oh my God,” she said, grabbin’ my face and kissin’ me hard. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

I brushed her hair back. “Sorry ya had to see that, sugar. Hope it didn’t ruin nothin’.”

“Sorry?” She shook her head, still laughin’. “Jackson, don’t you ever apologize for protectin’ me. I should apologize. Please don’t hold it against me that I once dated that… that… expired jar of mayonnaise.”

I laughed, pullin’ her close as the limo door shut behind us.

“Darlin’, I ain’t holdin’ nothin’ ’gainst ya,” I murmured. “’Cept maybe myself. Tonight, when we start makin’ us a baby. Or at least practicin’ real good.”

She blushed, smilin’ into my neck.

And as the limo pulled away, leavin’ Mr. Kingsley III drippin’ and furious in a pond full of ducks…

I figured the night couldn’t get any more perfect.

But once we got home, Amy proved me wrong. And that part? That’s none of y’all’s. That’s just for us.