I close my laptop with a satisfied sigh and look out the nearest window, where I can see Lucas working in the pasture. Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, just as a dark shadow passes over the ground outside, covering everything with fascinating slowness. I know I’m already adjusting to the country life, because my first reaction is that the rain will be good for the grazing pastures. That, and I’ve come to love rainy days for totally non-pasture related reasons too. They force Lucas inside, where we can cozy up and listen to the rain pattering on the roof and windows, just the two of us, together and safe.

When the weather is nice, I can’t even keep track of all the work he does around the ranch. During his workday, he’s always fixing something, building something, taking care of the animals, and finding excuses to put his hands on me any chance he gets.

Figuring out the whole working remote thing hasn’t been nearly as much of a challenge as I thought it would. Clients find me on the new and improved website Amy helped me set up, we schedule a video chat, and the whole interview process is handled remotely. I used to do my own search for potential matches for my clients, whether it was using dating sites, striking up conversations in public, or asking around in my relatively large circle of contacts. After everything that happened with Lucas, even that felt too deceptive. Now, I listen in while I coach my clients through breaking the ice with men in various settings.

Once we find a man that works, I help them push past their insecurities and make the conversation happen.

I feel better about what I do for people now than I ever have. Before, it was like I was shopping for a man. It seems artificial in retrospect. Now I’m teaching these women how to find a man who’s the right match for them. It’s like they say, you can give a woman a date and make her happy for a week, or you can teach a woman to date and make her happy for the rest of their life. Okay, I know, they definitely don’t say that. But I say that. At least, now I do.

Oddly enough, business has been exploding ever since I changed the system. I don’t know if it’s the site, the happy customers talking about me to other people, or maybe just my new perspective on love. Maybe it’s a little bit of everything. Either way, I’m thrilled, and so is Amy, who’s currently on a week-long cruise to the Bahamas. Even my dad sounded impressed when we last talked, which was such a surprise I’m still trying to process it.

Lucas opens the front door and steps in, stripping off his shirt and letting out an exhausted sigh. He’s dirty from working outside all day, and the long rack of his abs is caked with dark stains run through by rivulets of sweat. He grins up at me, the white of his teeth dazzling against the streaks of dirt on his face.

I laugh at the sight of him, but the sound is smaller and more in the back of my throat than I intend. I can’t help biting my lip. “What’d you do? Wrestle the cows in the dirt or something?”

“Never wrestle a cow,” he says seriously. “They always win.”

I frown in confusion, not sure if he’s serious or joking.

His smirk widens. “Guess I got a little dirty, but there’s a quick cure for that.”

“Yeah,” I say, crossing my arms. “It’s called a shower.”

“Exactly. And if I can trust my weatherman,” he says, moving toward me.

I step back, holding a warning finger up at him. “Don’t you dare!” I laugh. “Don’t even dare!”

He chases me half-way around the house, finally wrapping me up in his dirty grasp. He hoists me over his shoulder like a bag of feed and starts walking me outside.

“Lucas!” I scream, slapping his back and kicking my feet. “Put me down! You’re going to get us struck by lightning!”

“If you never go running out into the storm you’re not living, darlin’.”

He kicks open the door. Rain is already pouring down and the sky flashes with electric white light.

“No,” I say with frustration. “If you go running out into the storm you won’t be living. Not for long.”

“Pssh,” he says, tossing me into the little vehicle he uses to move around the ranch--something between a golf cart and a four wheeler. “Point is, I had a fucking plan and I’m not going to let a little rain ruin it.”

“Rain and, you know, lightning bolts,” I say sourly, but he knows me well enough to know if I really had objections, I would’ve just gotten up and walked inside. The truth is I just enjoy our verbal sparring matches too much to let the opportunity pass by.

He turns on the vehicle, which is too quiet to hear over the rain, and starts driving us toward the tree-line at the south end of his property. “Lightning gets a bad rap, but haven’t you ever seen those superhero movies? You’d probably just get super powers or something.”

I laugh. “Yeah, the superpower of turning into human toast.”

“Negative Nancy,” he grumbles.

I smile when he’s not looking. I have to squint my eyes against the onslaught of rain pouring down on us, but there’s a beautiful chaos to it. I can barely see a hundred yards away with how thick the rain is, except when lightning splits the sky and blasts everything with a blinding burst of light. The thunder rolls through the thick country air so powerfully I can feel it in my chest.

He comes to a stop near a section of tall trees where the cows are sheltering from the rain. “Okay, even I have my limits. You’re not telling me we’re going to go stand under the trees during a lightning storm, right?”

“What do you think I am? Crazy?” he asks.

I take in the sight of his wet hair and chiseled body washed clean by the rain, from the shimmering peaks of his bare torso to the way his jeans cling temptingly to his wet legs.

“Maybe a little,” I admit.

“Good. Cause anybody who isn’t at least a little crazy is doing it wrong.”

“I’m not sure who told you that, but it doesn’t sound right.”

He shrugs dismissively. “I told me that. So it’s definitely right.”

“So… your plan that you couldn’t wait for was to drive me to the cows?” I ask.

“No. We have to wait for the lightning to stop before you see the surprise. We’re actually safe in this thing. Lightning would just go down the metal sides and poof, we’re fine.”

I laugh a little. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t fully believe you know what you’re talking about.”

“Not forgiven,” he says. “But I might consider forgiving you if you fulfill a fantasy I’ve always had.”

“We might be able to work something out.”

“See, I’ve always wanted to make out with a hot girl during a thunderstorm. You know, outside.”

“Oh? Well I don’t know if I can find a hot girl on such short notice.”

“You’re right. Hot doesn’t do you justice,” he says, moving his hand across my thigh and pushing my soaked dress up so his hand rubs against my pussy. He brings his lips close to mine, eyes boring into me like two hot coals and making my insides heat up despite the chill of the rain. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Then I hope gorgeous is using protection,” I say with a grin.

He pauses, narrows his eyes, then barks a laugh. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“That’s fine, just don’t get any on my dress.”

He laughs even harder now, burying his head in my neck and letting his laughter rock through him. When he pulls back his eyes are heavy and he still wears half a smile. “You will never understand how much I love you.”

“I think I can,” I say, kissing him. “I think I know exactly how much, because I feel it too.”

We kiss with the rain washing away the dirt on our skin and the thunder rumbling through the sky, with our hands seeking skin and heat hungrily, with our tongues dancing together. We kiss like it’s our first time and our last, and I know I’ll never forget a second of this. Every sensation, from the way his wet hair feels under my fingertips to his coarse fingers between my legs, working their way beneath my panties and into my waiting heat--I’m locking it all away to cherish forever.

We blur together, just two bodies moving in the rain and among the rumble of thunder.

At some point--I don’t even remember when--his jeans came off and so did his briefs. My legs are over his shoulders and he’s pinning me against the back seat, working his perfect body into me with the precision of a surgeon, every movement calculated to drive me closer and closer to the explosion of orgasm.

He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing his dark hair from his face and leaning forward to kiss me, pressing my thighs against my chest as he does and his cock deeper and deeper within me.

“I fucking love you,” he growls over the sound of the rain.

“I love you too,” I whisper.

When his cock finally pulses within me and sprays hot cum deep inside, I’ve already had more orgasms than I can remember. They all washed together into just one of thousands of perfect moments I’ve had since finding Lucas.

“I think the lightning stopped,” I say breathlessly. I find my panties and slip them back on, fixing my dress to cover my thighs again.

“Yeah,” says Lucas, who has his briefs and jeans on again but still wears no shirt. “Come on.”

He takes me by the hand and leads me through the muddy ground and rain to an area not far from the cows. He stops me, taking both my hands in his. His face is serious as he finds my eyes and holds my gaze. He laughs a little at himself, looking uncharacteristically nervous for a second before he straightens again and regains his confidence.

“I planned out this big speech, you know. I spent a while memorizing it and everything. Fuck it, though.”

My heart flutters and my mouth opens but no words come. Is this what I think it is?

He falls to one knee. “I love you, Mila. I could say it in a bunch of fancy ways. I could talk for hours about it. But that’s the heart of it. I fucking love you and I’d die before I ever let you go.” He fishes in the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a beautiful ring with a stone that’s not so big it’s gaudy, but it’s big enough to make my eyes widen. “I want you to be my wife, Mila. Will you marry me?”

My knees give out and I fall into him, accidentally tackling him to the mud, but I don’t care. I hug him on the ground, wrapping my legs around him and crying with happiness.

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure it’s customary to give a yes or a no. I don’t know how to interpret a tackle.”

I sit up, straddling him and smiling so wide it hurts. “Yes. Yes. Of course. Yes!” I squeal.

He licks his lips and slides the ring on my finger.

“Would this be a good time to tell you I’m pregnant?” I ask.

Watching realization sink into his features immediately locks into my memory as one of my fondest moments--from the way his eyebrows inch together and then up, to how his lips slowly part, the way his breath hitches, and the absolutely pure happiness in his laughter as he reaches up to hug me back and ends up flipping us both over so he’s on top of me, face inches from mine.

“You’re not just fucking with me? You took a test and everything?”

“I took a test and everything,” I say. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Lucas kisses me before jumping up into the air and punching his fist in victory a few times. It’s only then I realize the cows are surrounding us and actually sitting on their rear ends, like a bunch of spectators.

“Uh, Lucas?” I ask, pointing to the cows. “Do they normally do that?”

“Oh fuck,” he says, clapping a hand to his head. “Damn, I spent all that time training them and forgot the plan. See, the cows were supposed to sit down before I kneeled.”

I try my hardest not to laugh, putting a hand in front of my mouth to stifle the coming laughter. “Why?”

“Shit, I don’t know? I thought it’d be romantic. You know. Like we had an audience.”

“Of cows?” I ask, unable to stop the laughter anymore. I bend over with the force of my laughter, and even Lucas can’t help chuckling at himself a little.

“Not just some random cows though,” he protests. “These are my girls. I wanted them to be here for it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say once I’ve calmed down a little. “It’s actually really sweet. It’s just--” the laughter comes again and I can’t stop myself. “It’s really mooving. What you did.”

Lucas joins me now in laughter, and we spend the rest of the evening outside, neither of us ready to let the magic of the moment pass from the present into memory, even if we still have tens of thousands of happy memories ahead of us, we both know these few hours will be one of the fondest to look back on.

* * *

The whole town turned out for the Harvest festival, as usual, but watching Mila and our two-year-old daughter, Aubrey, keeps me from really noticing much of anything else. Mila looks even more gorgeous every day. I loved how much she glowed through her whole pregnancy, and even after giving birth she has held onto that aura of happiness.

Aubrey is without a doubt, the cutest two-year-old that has ever been brought into existence. She has platinum blonde hair from god-knows-where that naturally curls up at the ends, and the most infectious little smile I’ve ever seen. Right now Mila is trying to keep Aubrey from assaulting the chickens Red Strickland brought to sell.

I decide I should probably stop admiring them and do something to help, so I sweep up Aubrey and give her a raspberry that has her cracking up in seconds.

“She is so adorable,” says Martha, who comes in to give us hugs. Frank is close behind her, and he holds up his fingers like crab claws and snaps them in the air at Aubrey, who squeals with terrified delight.

“Rab! Oh nooo!” she yells.

“A hungry ‘rab’, at that!” says Frank, who pretends to nibble at her belly with his fingers.

I set Aubrey down and she proceeds to make a crab counter-attack on Frank’s legs while we catch up with the couple.

“You look absolutely stunning, dear,” says Martha.

“Thank you,” says Mila. “I think it’s Aubrey’s fault for not giving me time to eat.”

“Oh if you ever want to drop the little gremlin off with us we’d be happy to watch her. And Frank could whip you up some food that’d stick to your ribs.”

“Never understood that phrase,” says Frank. “If food’s sticking to ‘yer ribs, you got a digestive problem, I figure. Food ought to be going in your stomach and passing right through you. I’ve always said a good pooper is a happy--”

“Frank,” says Martha, who gives Mila and I a suffering smile. “First of all, you have not always said that. And second of all, you do not talk to a young woman about pooping! How many times do I have to tell you?”

Frank and Martha devolve into one of their amusing argument sessions and forget all about us. Mila gives me a quick grin and we head over to where the Peterson twins are happily holding Petey, who is no longer a miniature pig and must weigh about three hundred pounds, on a leash.

“Finally caught up with old Petey, did you?” I ask.

“Yessir,” says the girl. “He’s not so quick anymore, but papa got us this leash and Petey hasn’t escaped since.”

“A leash, huh?” I say with mock thoughtfulness as I look toward Aubrey. “Do they make those in tiny human size?”

Mila slaps my shoulder and we continue moving through the festival.

Cynthia is standing in front of a display of about fifteen paintings of various size. They are all landscapes, and while they aren’t horrible, they aren’t great either, but I’m still happy to see she has found something she’s passionate about. Ever since Ronnie got put away, Cynthia has apparently had a chance to take a second look at herself and as far as everyone can tell, she’s trying to change for the better. We wave and smile to her as we pass. Mayor Riggs and Sheriff Landry are laughing about something over by the corndog stand Henry Miller sets up every year.

As much as I hate to admit it, my brother getting put away might have been the best thing that ever happened to this town. The corrupt mayor and sheriff went along with him, and ever since, Wade’s Creek has felt a lot more peaceful and a hell of a lot better as a place to raise a family.

When we get home later that evening, Mila insists on driving Aubrey and I out to where the cows are grazing on the south end of the property. I start to get suspicious when I see the way she keeps stealing glances at me, but I decide to play it cool and let her have her little surprise, whatever it is. I know her parents are coming to visit us in a few days, and even though things are drastically different between them these days, she still turns into a nervous wreck when they’re around, so I’ve got to go extra easy on her for a while.

She brings the Gator to a stop and lets Aubrey get down and go running around in the grass. Mila leads me closer to the cows and my suspicion grows. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“Well,” she says, making a not-so-discreet gesture to the cows, who, to my surprise, still remember how to sit down on their rear ends. I look around at the group of cows surrounding us and sitting on their asses with an amused smile.

“You gonna propose to me now?” I ask.

“No,” she says with a smile. “But I thought it was only fair that your girls found out at the same time you did. We’re pregnant again.”

I sweep Mila up in my arms and squeeze her tight before realizing I probably don’t want to squeeze the little baby nugget too, and I let her down, settling for holding her by the hips and looking into her eyes. “You’re sure?”

“I took three different tests,” she says, smiling a little nervously up at me. She must not be sure if I’m going to be happy about this.

I cup her cheeks and kiss her long enough that Aubrey wanders over and says, “ooOoo. Kiss!”

We break apart, laughing.

I kneel down, picking Aubrey up so she is level with Mila’s still flat stomach. I take Aubrey’s hand and press it there. “You’re going to be a big sister, sweetie. Your little brother or sister is growing in there.”

“Baby?” she asks.

“Yeah, honey,” Mila says running her fingers affectionately through Aubrey’s hair. “Our baby. Our family is going to be even bigger and even happier.”

“You’re damn right it is,” I say with a grin.

“Damn right!” repeats Aubrey.

Mila gives me a cross look, but even she can’t hold back her smile.

I hug them both to me, closing my eyes and feeling for the first time that everything has come full circle. There’s no place I’d rather be--standing on my father’s land, making the family I wish Ronnie and I had had growing up, and taking a chance at doing something better with my life, of doing something meaningful and worthwhile.

I open my eyes and look over the green pastures and the trees and the ranch. It’s worth hundreds of millions to some oil execs for what lies just beneath the ground, but none of that matters to me. What matters is here, within arm’s reach and where my eyes can see it. I have everything I’ll ever need.

I hope I made you proud, Dad.