The roar of the motorcycle died down by the time Colton got back to the ranch. He could hear the music coming from the farm house, and it was definitely not Johnny Cash, not even Dolly Parton.

He jogged up as soon as he locked the bike to one of the posts. His shoulder was the first thing in the house when he realized that it was A) rock music, and B) his lovely boyfriend cooking dinner while listening to music.

“Darl’n…sugar…I can hear the music from outside the house. And I can see that your prettiness from miles away.”

Colton was a sap and you knew it. He wrapped his arms around you, trapping you against the counter.