Page 32 of Cowhand Crush

“I’m all ears. What did you have in mind?”

Dad gestured to the horse in the corral.

“I was thinking about getting a pony for Amber,” he said. “You had your first pony on your sixth birthday. It seems Amber enjoys horses just as much as you do, so I’m sure we’ll have her in the saddle in no time.”

“Dad, she’s only a few weeks old,” I replied.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“And I want the best for my granddaughter. It takes time to line up a good pony. I’ll need to talk to breeders and get a trainer.”

I hugged him, breathing in that black coffee and saddle leather scent that always clung to his clothes. Some things never changed.

“That would be wonderful, Dad,” I said. “Thank you.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“Still can’t believe you made me a grandpa. I thought that wouldn’t happen until I was sixty, at least.”

“Before you know it, you’ll have five grandkids climbing all over you.”

“Dear God,” he muttered, squeezing me tight. “Maybe they could spend some time with Grandma Birdie.”

I laughed and tilted my head back to look at him. He smiled softly down at me, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“This is everything I wanted for you, sweetie,” he said. “To see you loved so deeply.”

My throat grew tight.

“Dad, you know my hormones are all over the place. I’ll cry at the drop of a hat.”

Before he could reply, a wail went up from the direction of the house. Bowen stood on the porch, rocking Amber in his arms. He met my gaze, gesturing to the baby. She was probably hungry by now.

“Go,” Dad whispered.

I broke away and headed for the house.

“Is everything okay?” Bowen asked as he passed Amber to me. “It seemed like you and Grady were having a pretty serious conversation. I hated to interrupt.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I replied. “Dad understands. He knows what it’s like to raise a daughter.”

Bowen interlaced our fingers together and kissed the back of my hand before we stepped inside. I was so proud of him for taking on the role of father as easily as breathing, savoring every moment he had with our child.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bowen warned lightly.

“Like what?”

He hooked a finger into the belt loop of my jeans and drew me into our bedroom.

“Like you want to start trying for baby number two.”

I grinned.

“Are you saying you don’t want another child?”

Bowen helped me shed my coat, sliding it off my shoulders. He cupped my chin and tilted my head up to place a gentle kiss on my lips.

“I’m saying that I’m the luckiest man in the world already. I have a beautiful wife and a healthy baby girl who looks just like her mama. I never thought I’d get a life like this. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

That was exactly the kind of answer I expected from Bowen. I was the go-getter with the insatiable appetite, always craving more—dreaming bigger, flying higher. He was my anchor to keep me grounded, to shield me when I bit off more than I could chew.

I couldn’t wait to see the life we built together.