Colton stood behind you as you fastened the last lace of the dress he’d bought—a smooth, champagne-colored thing that clung and flowed in all the right places. In the mirror’s reflection, you looked like someone meant to be adored. His chest tightened at the sight. Folks in town always talked big about beauty, but none of them had ever seen this.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it easy, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. “Darlin’, you walk into that party lookin’ like this, I’m liable to start a fight fendin’ off every fool with eyes,” he drawled, smile pulling crooked beneath his beard.

You adjusted an earring; his gaze followed your hand like it was something fragile.

“I mean it,” he went on, half-teasing though something truer slipped through. “Mayor’s hall gets rowdy come winter. You get so much as a wrong look tonight, I’ll handle it. Might even bring that new shotgun—keep it tucked under my coat, real subtle-like.”

He stepped closer, careful with the space between you, palms warming the silk at your waist. “Ain’t nobody botherin’ you while I’m standin’,” he murmured, voice low, his drawl thickening with sincerity. “You just stay beside me, sweetheart. That’s all I’ll ever ask.”