Page 24 of Oops I Fell For The Cowboy Next Door

"I had Jace Callahan's cousin pull the original plat from the county records this morning." My voice is steady. Barely. "The fence line is right. The creek is on your property. I've been wrong since the day you got here."

She looks at the map. Back at me. Doesn't say anything.

"And I called your landlord. Greg Horton. He told me about the development group's offer." I take a breath. "I matched it. I'm buying this property."

Her lips part. "You're what?"

"Buying this cabin. The land. All of it."

"Tate. That's⁠—"

"Hear me out." My hands are shaking. I put them on the table to steady them. "I'm not buying it to own you. I'm not buying it to control the creek access. I'm buying it because last night you told me I was pushing you away because I'm scared, and you were right. I am scared. I'm terrified."

Her eyes are filling. She presses her fingers against her mouth.

"I'm terrified because every person who's ever stood in my life has eventually walked out of it. My dad died. My mom left for Billings. Rachel couldn't handle the quiet. And when you told me about that email, every part of me that's been waiting for the next person to leave just reacted. I pushed you away because it was easier to lose you on my terms than wait for you to leave on yours."

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn't wipe it.

"But you're not Rachel. You're not anyone who came before you. You moved to Montana to build a life that's yours, and I'm standing here asking you to let me be part of it. Not because of a lease. Not because of a creek. Because you drink box wine on my porch step and you fight me about everything and you traced the ugliest scar on my body and kissed it. Because you make my kitchen sound like a place someone lives instead of a place someone survives."

My voice breaks on the last word. I clear my throat. Push through.

"I love you, Piper. I love you in a way that scares the hell out of me because I've never loved anything that could leave. Land doesn't leave. Cattle don't leave. But you could, and the fact that you could is exactly why loving you matters."

She's crying. Both hands over her mouth now. Tears streaming.

"If you want to stay, stay. The cabin is yours. No lease, no deadline, no development group. Yours. And I'll be right next door, fixing whatever breaks, leaving firewood before dawn, drinking terrible coffee in your kitchen for as long as you'll let me."

Silence.

She drops her hands from her face.

"You bought my cabin."

"Yeah."

"You pulled a county survey this early in the morning to prove yourself wrong."

"Yeah."

"You told me you love me when you brought a space heater over."

"I realize the presentation could be better."

The laugh that comes out of her is wet, broken, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. She crosses the kitchen in three steps, throws her arms around my neck, and pulls my mouth down to hers.

The kiss tastes like tears. Hers. Mine, maybe. Her fingers grip the back of my neck. My arms wrap around her waist, lifting her off the floor, holding her against me with everything I have.

"I love you too." She says it against my mouth, between kisses, her voice ragged. "I love you, you impossible, stubborn, porch-step-building, firewood-leaving man."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She pulls back, cups my face in both hands. Those blue eyes, wide open, no guards, no walls. "And I'm not going anywhere. Not in a year. Not ever. This is my home. You're my home."

I kiss her forehead. Her cheeks. The tip of her nose. Her mouth again, slower this time, deeper. My hands slide into her hair. Her body presses against mine until I can feel her heartbeat through both our chests.

"Marry me," I say.