Wrangling the Cowboy Bonus Scene

Saddlehorn at night is all warm lights and low music drifting out of open doors. The kind of place where everyone knows everyone. And apparently… everyone knows me.

“Winchester,” someone calls as we walk past the feed store.

I nod once, sliding an arm around Dakota to keep us moving.

She glances up at me, amused. “You’re famous.”

“Not the word I’d use.”

“What word would you use?”

I think about it. “Known.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Now, you’ve got my curiosity piqued,” she says with a wicked smile that has me second-guessing everything.

I would much rather be walking her into a quiet stall in the back of the barn than heading out on a night crowded by too many people. People I couldn’t give a damn about. But I let out a resigned sigh, knowing this means something to her.

Dinner is at a small place on the corner. Nothing fancy. Wood tables, dim lights, the smell of something slow-cooked and good.

I pull out her chair without thinking. She pauses, looking at me like I just did something unexpected.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says, sitting. “Just… noticing.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I think I might.”

There’s something in her voice that says she means it. That she’s not here for a moment. She’s here for something that stays.

I sit across from her, but it feels like too much distance already.

Conversation comes easier than I expect. Not overflowing and smooth, but real and steady because I have to know everything about her. Even if it’s what she ate for breakfast and why. Never felt this way for someone before, but it makes a lot of things about this world suddenly make more sense.

Like why a man would agree to forever without looking back. The fact I’m even thinking this puts a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead.

Next thing you know, we’ll be ring shopping… Somehow, that thought doesn’t induce panic.

Maybe she’s got me wrapped around her finger, though I don’t know how or when it happened.

She tells me about places she’s been, things she thought she wanted, the moment everything started to feel like it didn’t fit anymore.

I listen. Really listen. Because I have to know what she chooses next. Because I want to be part of it even though I have yet to admit it out loud.

Halfway through the meal, her foot brushes mine under the table.

An accident. Maybe. I don’t move mine. She doesn’t either.

The contact stays. Quiet. Steady. More distracting than anything that happened in the barn, though how that’s possible, I don’t know.

“You’re thinking too hard,” she says, watching me.

“I usually am.”

“About what?”

I hold her gaze. “About how I didn’t do this right the first time.”

Her expression softens. “You showed up,” she says. “That counts.”

“Not enough.”

“It did,” she says gently. “You just needed a second try.”

A second try. I can work with that.

We step back out into the night after dinner, the air cooler now, the town quieter. Music spills from somewhere down the street. A slow song. Something meant for moving close.

Dakota tilts her head, listening. “Dance with me,” she says.

I look at her. “No.”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You also don’t do dates,” she points out. “Look how that turned out.”

Fair enough. I take a breath, then reach for her hand. “Alright,” I say. “But if I step on your foot, that’s on you.”

“I’ll risk it.”

We don’t go inside. We stay right there on the edge of the street, under the glow of a single hanging light.

I pull her in closer than necessary. She doesn’t correct me. Her hands settle at my shoulders, mine on her hips.

The music drifts around us, slow enough that even I can follow it. Barely.

“You’re not terrible,” she murmurs.

“High praise.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” I grunt.

She’s smiling at me like this is easy. Like being with me makes sense. That still feels like something I don’t fully understand. But I’m starting to believe it might be possible.

I lower my head, brushing my mouth near her temple. Close enough to feel her breath catch.

“Levi,” she says softly.

“Yeah.”

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Loving me out loud.”

The words hit. I pull back just enough to look at her. “I’m trying,” I say.

“That’s all I asked for.”

I study her for a second. Then I let the rest of the distance go.

I kiss her there, in the open, under the lights, where anyone can see. The way I should’ve from the start.

Her hands tighten slightly at my shoulders, and I feel the answer in that alone.

When I lift my head, she’s still close, still looking at me like she’s not going anywhere. For once, I believe it.

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand again.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the ranch.”

Her brow lifts. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It probably is.”

She smiles anyway. “Good.”

The drive back to the ranch is quieter… and charged.

Dakota’s hand rests in mine across the seat, her thumb tracing slow, absent circles against my skin like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

But I notice. I notice everything about her now. The way she shifts closer when we stop. How her breath catches just slightly when I look at her too long… how she doesn’t pull away.

By the time I park outside the barn, the air between us feels stretched tight.

“You brought me back here on purpose,” she says softly.

I glance at her. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

I don’t answer right away. I don’t need to. She already knows.

Inside, the barn is quiet. Night settled deep. Just the low shuffle of horses and the soft creak of wood. Familiar. But somehow different now. Everything is since her.

Dakota steps in slowly, taking it in like she’s remembering something.

“Last time we were in here…” she starts.

“I remember,” I say. “Can’t forget it.”

Her gaze flicks to mine. “Neither can I.”

I close the distance between us without thinking, my hand finding her waist like it belongs there. Like it always did.

She leans into me easily, without hesitation or question. “Levi,” she murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Her fingers slide up my chest, slow, deliberate, stopping just at my collar like she’s deciding something.

“Don’t disappear on me after this,” she says.

“I won’t,” I say. “Not this time. Not ever.” Then, I lean in, taking her mouth, sealing my promise with the hungry sweep of my tongue. My hand tightens at her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.

She fits there… too well.

Her hands move up into my hair, holding me in place like she’s not letting me retreat even if I tried. And her lips are a revelation, dancing over mine, exploring and taking, giving in return until we both have to pull back gasping.

A couple of gulps of air, and I’m on her again. Because with her, I can’t get enough. My lips trace down the line of her jaw, her throat, feeling the way her pulse jumps under my lips.

“Levi—”

My hands move with more certainty now, slower but deeper, learning the shape of her instead of rushing past it. The curve of her waist, the softness beneath my palms, the way she leans into every touch like she trusts me with it.

I lift my head just enough to look at her. Her cheeks flushed, eyes dark, breath uneven.

“You sure?” I ask.

She nods, immediate. “Always.”

That word lands somewhere permanent.

I guide her back a step, then another, until she’s against the tack trunk again—but this time there’s no edge of desperation to it.

No need to hold back. No line we’re pretending still exists.

She pulls me down into another kiss, deeper now, more certain, her body pressing into mine like she’s just as done pretending.

My control doesn’t snap this time. It unwinds—slow, deliberate, better. Every touch feels chosen instead of stolen. Each breath is shared instead of taken. And when I finally make her mine again, it isn’t about holding on before something breaks… It’s about staying.

Afterward, I keep her close, my hand moving through her hair, her body resting against mine like it belongs there.

She tilts her head up, studying me. “You didn’t run,” she says quietly.

I huff out a breath, something almost like a laugh. “Give me a minute. I might.”

She smiles, soft and knowing. “You won’t.”

I look at her. Really look this time. At the way she trusts me to stay. Then, I let myself feel the warmth pooling in my chest because she chose me without needing guarantees.

“No,” I say. “I won’t.”

Outside, the night stretches quiet and wide over the ranch. Inside, I keep her close.

And for once, I don’t feel the need to brace for when the moment it ends. Because now I know something with a certainty nothing on this planet will change.

This is where Dakota belongs. “Keeping you close from now on,” I whisper.

Her eyes meet mine.

“Want to know why?” I drawl, slow and easy.

She nods. She already does, though.

“Because for the first in as long as I can remember, I’ve found something I was always looking for. Without even knowing it.”

“And what’s that?” Dakota asks breathlessly.

I press her hand flat against my chest. “Home.”

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