Outlaw Cowboy (25 page)

He paused, eyes searching hers. “Where do you want it to be?”

She pondered that. If she had a choice, where would she want her home to be? Her gaze locked with his. She was free from her warrant and free from saving her sisters. Steph was safe.
Safe.
That was all that mattered.

No, not all. This was her life, and she got to live it for
her
now. So where did she want her home to be?

“With you,” she whispered.

His hands cupped her face. “Will you let me say it
now
?”

“Let's do that somewhere else.”

He glanced up at the jail and the disapproving guard. “All right. Somewhere else.”

They clambered into his truck, and Delia wracked her brain for the right words, the reassurances she needed to ask for, but exhaustion caught up with her. The next thing she knew, she was being tucked into a bed.

Her eyes fluttered open, but everything was dark. Warm, but dark.

“Where are we?” she whispered.

“Home,” Caleb returned, his lips brushing over her forehead like a promise. “Shaw.”

She snuggled into him. “You can say it now,” she murmured, warm and exhausted and…

Happy.

Free.

“I love you, Delia.”

So.
Happy.
“I love you too,” she murmured, snuggling in deeper, reveling in the strong arms around her, the warm bed beneath her, and the home that surrounded her.

She was home, and for the first time in her life, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, she never wanted to leave. Home and love would keep her here, and she'd fight for happiness.

She'd fight for Caleb, just as he'd fought for her.

“I'll never let you walk away again. Not ever again. Not knowing that you love me,” he whispered into her hair.

Her lips curved, and her heart warmed. “I never seem to get very far.”

“Damn straight. This is where you belong. This is where
we
belong.”

Belonging. We. Love. Things she'd never dared hoped for, now surrounding her like a comforting blanket.

He didn't have to worry about letting her walk away again—it would never come to that. They were both fighters. And love, for all its pitfalls and weaknesses, would keep them bound together, happy and honest and free.

Together. No matter what.

Because love was what she'd never known she'd really been looking for, and now that she'd found it, she'd never let it go. And neither would Caleb. Her sisters were safe, and she had a man willing to risk everything because he thought she was worth it. Together, they were worth it.

Together, they would remain, and she would always believe in the promise of sunset, sunrise, Shaw, and the love of a man who wasn't perfect, but perfect for her.

Delia awoke the next morning to sunrise streaming in through the window of Caleb's room. The other side of the bed was empty, but she didn't mind. She knew he'd let her sleep while he did his chores.

She stretched and allowed herself a blissful moment of silent perfection. The future wouldn't always be perfect, so she'd bask in it when she got it. She'd learned a thing or two the past few weeks.

There was no note today, but her backpack was situated in an open dresser drawer. The drawer itself had been emptied.

“Yeah, this is mine,” she said, aloud, to make sure it stuck. She got dressed and then headed downstairs, rested and ready to face a day where she helped with chores, and made this place a home.

The minute she stepped into the kitchen, expecting to find Mr. Shaw or Summer, she saw Rose and Steph instead, standing next to the counter, talking quietly about something.

Delia made some sound, though she couldn't describe it, and they both looked her way, and then they all somehow converged in the middle, falling all over each other, sobbing, laughing, holding tight.

“What are you doing here?” Delia managed to ask before kissing Steph's head and then Rose's.

“That man of yours came around 'bout the crack of dawn, rounding us up,” Rose said. She was the only one not crying, but her grip was so tight Delia could barely breathe.

Delia managed to pull back, but only a little. But she saw what she'd missed before.

“He hit you.” Delia pushed a little harder so she could disentangle an arm, reached up and touched Rose's face where a deep purple blotch marred her cheek.

“Had to be done.” Rose shrugged. “He's in a cell, Delia. They're going to press charges. We couldn't do much with Mom, but as long as he's in jail, no one's going to bail him out. As long as we all testify, babe, we can at least get him put away until Steph's legal. Then he can't touch us. We won't let him touch us.”

“You did not tell me you getting hurt was part of the plan.”

Rose grinned, then winced a little. “That was one hundred percent on purpose.”

“I should have—”

“Delia,” Steph said sharply, so tall, so big and mature and gorgeous. “It's over. It's…
over
.” Her voice cracked a little bit, and then they were holding on to each other again, laughing, crying.

Delia had dreamed a lot of things for getting her sisters out, but she'd never been able to see this, to believe it. Being with them. Feeling free. Feeling
whole
.

“And since you won't be needing that wad of cash I gave you anymore, we can get Elsie and Billie back for a visit.”

Delia didn't know what to say, and she didn't want to let go. Not for a very long time. But a door creaked and Rose gave her a little nudge.

“Here's the man of the hour,” Rose announced.

Delia turned to see Caleb standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the sun—as it always seemed to do—touched his hair gold, something like a halo.

He arched a brow at Rose. “Says the woman with an impressive bit of bruising.”

“Like I said, took one for the team.”

Delia couldn't quite detangle herself from her sisters, wanting to hold them close too much to do so, but she made eye contact with Caleb when she spoke. “You are
all
my men and women of the hour.”

“And
you
are
our
hero,” Steph said, squeezing tighter.

“I didn't even do anything. You guys did everything.” And even though a few weeks ago that had hurt a little, hurt her pride and her heart, today she couldn't bring herself to feel left out. They were all safe. They all had a
future
.

“I mean for everything. From the beginning. You were the one who gave us hope. You always gave us hope that we could get out and have something better. You never failed us on that.”

Those words did everything to crumble the remaining strength, the remaining hold on her emotions. Tears spilled over. “I didn't—”

And even though she was still a mass of connected limbs with Rose and Steph, Caleb found a way to reach through, to give her shoulder a squeeze. “If I can't argue with being a good man, you can't argue with that.”

She swallowed, blinked up at him. She had everything she could have ever dreamed of, and she'd never felt so fragile in all her life.

Unacceptable.

“You know what we need to do?” she said, clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders. “Celebrate. We need to…revel in our victory.”

“Well, drinks are on me and the Pioneer Spirit.”

“Or,” Caleb said easily, even though Delia knew it wasn't particularly
easy
for him, “what about a family dinner? Say, around six?”

Delia cocked her head. There was something about his expression…something just a little
too
pleased with himself. “What did you do?”

He brushed the still far-too-long fringe of bangs out of her eyes and grinned. “Let's just say, when your brother-in-law is loaded, you can pull a few strings, find a few people.” His eyes never left hers, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Caleb was hers. Meant for her, built for her; something in their souls had been stitched together long ago.

“Back away, Steph, or get beamed into their gushy love mess,” Rose muttered.

“Aw, I think it's sweet,” Steph returned, but Delia realized they'd unwound themselves from her to give Caleb the space to step closer.

“Who are you finding?” Delia demanded, feeling unsteady on her feet, but Caleb was there, his arm winding around her shoulders. Her foundation, her rock, just as she was his.

“Elsie and Billie—barring any flight delays—should be here by six. Summer already insisted on making a big dinner.”

She swayed, and Delia wasn't sure she'd ever swayed on her feet in her life. But her sisters were talking a mile a minute behind her, demanding answers to a million questions, Caleb answering them patiently. So damn patiently.

“They're going to be
here
?” she whispered.

She didn't know how he could possibly hear her over the din of her sisters all but screeching, but he smiled and brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Right here.”

“Okay, you're going to have to hold me up for a few minutes.”

He kissed the crown of her head, taking all her weight. “Anytime, Delia. Anytime.”

* * *

Caleb had grown up with precisely one woman in his life whom he remembered with any regularity. Mel had never had friends over or sleepovers or anything that might rival what was happening in his dining room.

In fact, even when he'd been in the party scene, watching gaggles of high school girls drink and giggle and flirt, he'd never heard this kind of
noise
.

The five Rogers girls, all plastered around the formal dining room table in the dining room of the Shaw ranch, could probably be heard all the way down in Blue Valley.

Summer had excused herself after dinner to give the girls some alone time, and Rose would have to leave soon to go open Pioneer Spirit, but for now…

For now, Caleb stood at the entrance to the dining room, watching the woman he loved exude a kind of joy he'd never seen—not from her, not from anyone. She'd reach out randomly and touch each of them, as if to make sure they were real.

Whatever lay ahead with Graham Rogers would be tough, but Caleb had no doubt the five of them together could handle it, and that he would lend a hand in any way he could.

And Summer would step up to help, and so would Mel and Dan. Because his family was not afraid to stand up and step up. And neither was he.

Not anymore.

“You did good, boy.”

Caleb glanced behind him to where Dad had soundlessly wheeled. Surprise didn't begin to cover the feeling that coursed through him. Surprise, a bloom of pleasure, and something like wistful pain.

“She deserved it,” Caleb managed quietly, not that the Rogers girls could stop talking long enough to overhear this conversation.

“Talked to that Parker boy yesterday after you hightailed it out of here.”

“Oh yeah? He yank the lease?”

“No. Just said to offer you an apology and you'd be paid in full for the month as of Monday.”

Caleb stared at his father, trying to make sense of any of that. “But I…”

“Oh, he went on and on about undesirable people like the Rogers girls, and I gave that boy a piece of my mind about what it means to have something, be someone in this town, and then look down his nose at them. He changed his tune.”

Caleb could only stare at his father. Tyler had… Dad had changed Tyler's mind.

“You're a good man,” Dad continued, his gaze on the girls. “I always knew you had it in you. I'm sorry I didn't show you that.”

It was like a physical blow. Hard, unrelenting. Some mix of pleasure and hope and feeling, mixed with the hurt that it had taken all this to hear that from his father.

But he focused on the pleasure, on knowing that his father thought he was a good man. That mattered. It had to matter at least a little more than the rest. Because the past was done, and he wanted very much to focus on his future.

“I wasn't very good at acting on it.” Caleb swallowed, looking down at his father, realizing for the first time how old he looked. He shouldn't look that old. But then, there were a lot of shouldn'ts when it came to the Shaws.

And yet here he was, witnessing possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in these five women who'd survived hell, knowing that he was making a life right here. A real, lasting life. With ups and downs, but love. Love would be his constant, and he'd never let himself doubt that.

“Summer needs you. Mel needs you.
I
need you. We all need you to be the good man we know you can be. We need that, Dad.”

Dad didn't say anything. He stared ahead at the women in front of them, but he didn't speak. Caleb held his breath and hoped as hard as he could that this was the turning point, this was the moment.

But Delia walked over, and Caleb had to let out his breath, had to look away from Dad.

“We'll see, Caleb. I guess we'll see,” Dad murmured before wheeling away, but there was some approximation of a curve to his lips, some hint of a smile. A hint of hope.

“Everything okay?” Delia asked, her arm snaking around his waist.

“Sure. A little bit new. A little bit same old, same old.”

She gave him a squeeze. “I think he's going to come around.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him, drawing her finger along his jaw. “And if he doesn't, we'll just keep knocking some sense into him, huh?”

“Yeah, that's exactly what we'll do.” He lowered his mouth to hers, meaning to make it quick but meaningful. A brush of lips, but they both sank into it, until there were groans from the background and things being lobbed at them.

Delia broke the kiss, her grin all but splitting her face, joy and love infusing everything she was. Caleb had never seen anything so beautiful, not that sunset they'd shared all those weeks ago, not anything.

Her arms didn't leave his neck. “I love you. I
love
you,” she whispered fiercely.

And he held on tight, whispering it in return, just as fiercely. Because sometimes you had to fight for love—fight the world, fight yourself, and it took that fierceness, an intense strength.

And it was more than worth it.