Colton
Three Years Later
“You’re going down, King.”
“That so?” my rival asks, lips twitching as he stands across from me. “Last I recall, you were the one who lost. So I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”
I scoff. “Won the year before that, though, didn’t I?”
Noah only hums.
“All right, gentlemen,” Mr. Yadav says with some amusement, cutting into our bickering. “Why don’t we start this competition off with a friendly handshake?”
I hold out my hand, and Noah clasps my palm tight.
“I’m not going easy on you,” I tell him.
He puckers his lips, blowing me a kiss. “Love you, too, Colt, baby.”
I grunt, and Mr. Yadav starts us off. The crowd cheers as Noah and I race toward our respective horses for our fourth annual Darling Shoein’. Noah may talk a big game, but I came prepared this year, and I am not losing.
The minutes tick by, the gathered townsfolk murmuring amongst themselves as the sound of our tools fills the air around us. I don’t dare look over at what Noah is doing, not wanting to get distracted. We’ve both forgone the speed approach. Yeah, it gives a good chunk of points. But, in the end, the finished product is what wins the race.
I’m almost surprised when I hear Noah announce he’s done, but a quick check his way shows his horse shoed and polished to perfection. Not a problem. He’s still not winning.
I finish polishing my horse’s final hoof, and then I bring out the big guns. Noah barks a laugh as I pull the ribbons from my bag, his eyes twinkling when I look his way.
“My ace,” I tell him, shooting him a wink.
He shakes his head. “You’re gonna pay for that later.”
Oh, I won’t mind that one bit.
I take my time, braiding my horse’s mane and tail, incorporating the ribbons like Wendy taught me to. When I stand back, my horse looks as radiant as a damn unicorn. All that’s missing is the horn.
“Done,” I declare.
There are chuckles and hoots from the crowd, but I catch more than one appreciative comment about my horse’s appearance. Damn right. I’ve got this in the bag.
The members of the town board come out from behind their judges’ table to check our work. Noah heads my way, shaking his head again.
“Really, Colt? Braids?”
“Hey, there are no rules against it,” I point out. And I checked. Carefully.
“Such a cheater,” he mutters, lips in a smile.
“It’s all right, King. I know losing is hard, but there’ll always be next year.”
He crosses his arms, doing his best not to look happy about that. I take the opportunity to appreciate the view. Massive biceps, honed muscles, colorful ink trailing down to his wrists. The horseshoe peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He’s wearing his favorite white hat today, but underneath is an artful mess of dark hair, the sides still shaved close in a way I refuse to find sexy. His belt buckle flashes, and his damn jeans mold to him like a well-worn-in glove. Full lips. Dark eyebrows. Eyes the color of flames flickering in a forge.
He’s smokin’. Undeniably.
But that’s not what has my pulse tripping in my chest every time I look at him. It’s the curve of his smile and how freely he offers it. It’s how I know what those arms can do. Toss me around a bit, sure. But hold me. Comfort me, when that’s not something that’s ever been easy for me to ask for. It’s how every flicker in his eyes tells me exactly what he sees when he looks at me.
Being coveted by a man like Noah King is potent, to say the least.
“All right, everyone,” Mr. Yadav calls, the judges returning to their table. “We’re ready to announce the results.”
Turns out, everybody loved the ribbons.
Noah groans when I win this year’s Shoein’, but he holds out his hand and gives me a hearty shake. I grin the entire time, basking in the congratulations from our families and the townsfolk who attended the event.
When we finally get home, Noah, Walter, and I enjoy a dinner of venison stew before Walter retires for the night. I watch him shuffle down the hall with a pinch in my gut.
“He has another appointment on Monday,” Noah reminds me, giving the back of my neck a squeeze. “He’ll be okay.”
“I know,” I mutter. Walter is strong. And his physiotherapy appointments have been a big help in managing his ongoing arthritis and scoliosis symptoms. But still. It’s not easy seeing the people we love hurt.
Noah tugs me close, pressing his lips to my temple as he breathes me in. “Such a tender heart,” he mutters, sounding fond.
“Am not,” I grumble, shoving at his stomach. I get a little distracted by the feel of his abs, so the push is halfhearted at best.
Noah huffs a gentle laugh. “It’s a good thing, Colt. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, disentangling from my boyfriend to put the last of our dishes in the washer. “Let’s see the fam.”
Noah and I take Daphne over to the ranch. Having my arms wrapped around the man as he drives is certainly no hardship, and the motorcycle seats two far easier than a saddle.
It’s nearly dark by the time we arrive, parking outside Jackson and Ash’s home. Remi has free rein of the ranch house now, the only one of us who hasn’t yet moved out. My parents long ago relocated to their own individual cottages beside the main house, seeing as they’re divorced for reasons no one quite understands. Jackson had his house built on the property well before Ash came along. I moved out a couple years back to be closer to Noah, our home the one we share with Walter. And Lawson… Well, my oldest brother still lives in Darling, just not at the ranch any longer.
I think Remi will always live here. He doesn’t work the ranch in the same way as Jackson or the ranch hands do, but he’s responsible for the well-being of nearly every workhorse and petting farm animal here. I’m glad they have him.
And Remi knows he’ll always have me, too. I’m just a phone call away should he need me. Although, truth be told, I think I always needed him a little more than he ever needed me.
Funny the things we learn as we grow.
Like the fact that certain hated archnemeses aren’t our enemies at all. That they’re pretty great, in fact. And that love can be found in the most unexpected of places… If you’re willing to fight for it.
As Noah and I round Jackson’s house, the bonfire comes into view. It’s already roaring, a bottle of Darling Whiskey sitting beside Jackson’s Adirondack chair, Ash sipping from a tin cup while atop my brother’s lap. Remi is tossing twigs into the fire.
“No Lawson?” I call.
“On the way,” Remi says, picking up a bag of marshmallows and chucking it at my chest. I snag it with a grin.
Noah sits in the chair next to mine. It takes me a minute to realize everyone is being suspiciously quiet. The only sounds are the snaps and crackles of the fire.
I stop loading my stick with mallows and look around. “What is it?”
Jackson clears his throat, and Ash appears to be biting his tongue.
“What?” I repeat, looking to Remi next. “What’s going on?”
“Did you, uh…happen to see the paper today?” my younger brother asks.
“No,” I say slowly. I long ago stopped religiously checking Noah’s ads. No need to once I realized the man isn’t my competition.
Sure, we’re still the only two farriers in town. But there’s plenty of work for both of us, and we’ve stopped arguing about the clients who switch their services.
It doesn’t do either of us any good.
“Why?” I ask, looking around again. “What’s in the paper?”
Noah clears his throat, and I swing my gaze his way to find him holding out a newspaper.
The fuck?
I take it like it’s a live grenade, everyone’s silence ramping up my adrenaline. What the hell is going on? Did Noah take out some ad my family thinks will piss me off?
“I kind of expected you to find it earlier,” Noah says, which doesn’t really tell me anything. “But here we are. Go ahead. Look.”
Pulse pounding, I flip the paper open. There’s just enough light to see by, so when I find the section of local ads, Noah’s jumps out immediately.
“What…the fuck,” I whisper, starting to read aloud. “‘Noah King of King Farrier Service formally announces his intent to win the…’” I cough roughly and try again. “‘…the hand of Colton Darling in loving matrimony. After all, everybody knows… Once you go King, you never go back.’”
I laugh around a too-tight chest, the sound more than a little ragged.
“You fucking dick,” I growl. “Of course you had to sneak that in there at the end. You’re such a—”
My words choke off as Noah slips out of his chair and goes down on one knee in front of me.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Colt,” the man starts, looking up at me as if I hung the damn moon in the sky. “I’ve lived in this town for over twenty years. I spent the majority of those hating your guts.”
I choke out another laugh, and he smiles ruefully.
“I spent a lot of time not knowing who you really are,” he says, letting out the softest of sighs. “And I’ve spent the last few years loving you more than I ever thought possible. They say there’s a fine line between love and hate. That passion of one kind is similar to that of the other. And considering how many times I’ve wanted to throttle you over the years, maybe there’s something to that.”
“This is the best proposal,” Remi whispers.
I sign a quick, ‘Zip it,’ his way.
“But here’s the thing,” Noah says in stride, taking my hand and rolling it gently between his. “I didn’t like hating you one bit, Colton Darling. Loving you has been better in every single way. You asked me once… why you . And I’ve told you a hundred times over, but let me tell you again. I love your passion. Your fight. I love the way you care so deeply and how that’s extended to me and mine. I love how soft you are in the mornings and the way your kiss feels like coming home. I’ve loved every moment of finding out who you are. I love you because, well…because you’re you.”
My exhale is loud, and Noah squeezes my hand tight.
“I’ll keep on loving you regardless, but it would be my absolute honor to share this life as your husband. If you’ll allow it, I’ll spend the rest of our time on this earth showing you precisely why I fell. You own me, Colt. There’s no other. No one else. Marry me?”
I let out a heavy breath as Noah pulls a ring from his pocket. It’s metal, that much is clear. But it’s not a smooth band like I would have expected. Instead, it’s designed to look like rope. Like a twisting band of rope.
“Fuck,” I mutter, brushing Noah’s hair back, my gaze running over his lips and eyes and his patient, hopeful expression. “King… You couldn’t have sprung for the extra ad words? I mean, Christ , that would have looked real nice in print.”
His mouth curves into a smile, even as he shakes his head. “You shit.”
“You love me for it,” I say, snatching up the ring. I slip it on my finger, the design a near-perfect match for the rope Noah wears on his skin. “You have me, King. This is just a formality.”
“Oh my God ,” Remi groans. “That was the worst yes in history.”
“Is it a yes?” Noah checks, even though the man must know…
“Yeah, Noah. It’s you for me. Since the moment you bit my lip, I’ve been yours. Maybe even before that. So yes, I’ll goddamn marry you. I’ll be your husband. And I’ll be so fucking proud to call you my own.”
Noah tugs me forward, the man catching me with his lips before I can fall out of my seat. He smells like the forest, the smokey overlay from the fire a perfect match for the person he is inside. His grip is sure, the familiar press of his mouth both soft and demanding. Damn intoxicating.
Maybe love is always like this. I don’t know. All I do know is I love this man. That hasn’t diminished once in the past three years, and, if anything, it’s only grown. Like the garden behind our house and the metal Noah twists into beautiful creations, it’s expanded and flourished with each passing day.
Noah King and I were never meant to be enemies. But hell if we weren’t meant to be. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to tell me otherwise.
Ash whoops as Noah smiles against my lips. Someone claps politely. Jackson, I’m guessing. Remi mumbles something about still gross, no matter how many times I see it . And a truck door shuts nearby. Lawson, I’d wager, with his new spouse. My parents will likely show up soon, once someone texts them the news. And Noah and I will tell Clementine and Hazel in the morning, although I’m sure neither of our horses will be surprised.
But for now?
For now, there’s my fiancé’s lips pressing again and again to mine.
There’s his, “I love you, Colt,” like a promise whispered strong and true.
There’s the way my heart skips and mellows, as it does any time he’s near.
And there’s my own vow, my hand pressing Noah’s palm to the front of my throat. Reins, freely given to the one person I trust never to lead me astray.
Noah fucking King.
Soon, my husband.
But always, forevermore, the man who toppled me brim over boot in love.
The End