“It wasn’t your fault,” Becki nodded slowly. “Just like it wasn’t mine.”

“Our lives, our choices. My choice is I want to be with you. I love you, Ms. James, and no matter where we live, that’s not going to change.”

* * *

Becki stared in shock. Even quietly spoken the words had exploded out of him, and she could barely believe her ears. “You . . . love me?”

“Yes. Does that seem so terrible?”

She shook her head. “I expected it would take tying you to a chair and threatening to do horrible things before you’d admit it.”

“Well, I’m not as stubborn as you thought.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. Brief, mouths just touching, then away. “I’m waiting. . . .”

Joy bubbled up inside. He loved her—there wasn’t anything that could have brought this rush of days to a more fitting conclusion. Except teasing him a little, because it felt like the right thing to do.

“Waiting for what?” She batted her lashes.

He rewarded her with a smile, the one that turned her insides to sheer mush. “You want me to tie you to a chair? Wouldn’t be a hardship on my part.”

This time Becki kissed him. Wet wonderful heat passing between them as she possessively wrapped her arms around him. Hell, wrapped herself around him. When they finally came up for air, contentment rolled off her in waves. “I do love you. And you’re what I want—I don’t care where we live.”

“You’d said Yellowstone was home,” Marcus reminded her.

“You’re home,” she insisted.

It was a long way from their beginnings to where they were now. An impulsive girl and adventure seeker, now grown up and tangled in something bigger than she’d ever thought possible.

When he rolled her under him on the couch and convinced her all over again that they belonged together, Becki knew she was right.

This was home.