The bride and groom left Eaton House by way of the back door. The only witness to their getaway was the Strawberry Moon. The wedding guests had departed hours earlier, leaving the Spanish-style abode quiet except for close family and friends who offered to clear tables and pack away the fine food and drink leftover from the rip-roarin’ reception.  

The flowered arch where the couple had exchanged their vows still stood near the steps to the flagstone patio, a window to the family’s cattle ranch, Eaton Edge, and the high desert country beyond.  

The stables had gone quiet, too. The foreman, wranglers, and ranch hands had all gone to their beds. The stable manager was nowhere to be found. The couple worked by rote in the dark, saddling their horses in tandem.  

The groom, Everett Eaton, led his red mare, Crazy Alice, through the gate. The two of them stood by as a leopard Appaloosa with its jean-clad rider trotted forward. “Race you to the river?” Sheriff Kaya Altaha Eaton asked as Everett closed the gate and secured it.  

He heard the teasing in her voice. She and Ghost had outpaced him and Alice on several occasions already. “Give us a head start,” he suggested as he boosted himself into the saddle.  

He caught the flash of her white smile in the dark. “Not on your life, cattle baron.” Then she put her heels to her horse. Ghost kicked up dust as his hooves pounded the earth and she yipped encouragement, her waist-length black hair streaming behind her.  

Everett leaned forward, spoke to Alice, and she leaped forward, eager to catch up.  

Heat lightning crackled over the distant mountains, but the big round moon held the clouds at bay, unwilling to give up its reign on the sky. Everett could easily track Ghost’s white flank in the night. The path to the river, too, was easy to discern.  

It was summer in northeast New Mexico. The day had been a hot one. But the cool night air kissed the skin of his face and the open collar of his shirt. He pulled the smell of the land deep into his lungs and let the night envelop him.  

It’d been his idea to move the wedding up. The need to plight his troth to the Sheriff of Fuego County, to give her his hand, his life, his name had had urgency nipping at his boot-shod heels. He could admit now that it was because part of him had been convinced she would change her mind. She was the woman of his dreams, and he still had trouble believing that he was the man of hers. But the big day had come and they had sealed the deal in front of three hundred rowdy witnesses under an azure blue sky. They’d spent the next five hours toasting, dining, dancing…until the need to get his wife alone had made Everett want to chase all those assembled off like a pack of wild coyotes.  

He felt he’d been plenty patient, particularly in the face of his adopted mother, Paloma Coldero, who had confronted his burgeoning disgruntlement with a healthy dose of side eye throughout the evening. But as the sky had begun to darken and the revelers had shown no signs of winding down or trickling off, he’d watched Kaya smile and laugh and dance, the ache in him swelling to monumental proportions.  

No sooner had the tables been folded away and the kitchen been cleared of all family and staff had he pulled her up the stairs and stripped the both of them down to their skivvies. Before either of them could get any ideas, he’d thrown boots, jeans, and a shirt at her. “We’re going for a ride, Sheriff Sweetheart.”  

Crazy Alice slowed on instinct. Everett strained his ears to hear the cascade of water filtering out of the mountains. The river was the lifeblood of The Edge. It fed the grass and cattle. Without it, the Eatons would have given up on high desert country decades ago.  

“Whoa,” he heard Kaya murmur to Ghost as the earth started to fall away to the water. Crazy Alice trotted forward so the two horses fell into lockstep and walked the rest of the way. 

Moonlight splashed across the river’s restless surface, almost blinding at its zenith. Everett pulled on the reins, halting Alice in the grass where she and Ghost could graze. He dismounted and waited for Kaya to do the same, flicking the reins over Alice’s ears before patting her flank.  

“Is it as cold as it was in the spring?” she asked, running her hand over Ghost’s freckled cheek and eyeing the run of water with more anticipation than trepidation.  

That was Kaya. The small town she’d made her own and the hard work of upholding law and order in rough country hadn’t dulled her inclination for adventure. He hooked a finger beneath her belt buckle to tug her forward until her booted toes were centered between his.  

Her dark eyes widened slightly and flashed a warning. But her mouth bowed at the corners. The sinuous smile went straight to his loins. “It’s warm enough,” he promised and bent his head to hers.  

She clapped her hand over his mouth. “Not so fast, cattle baron.”  

He groaned. He had her alone now. It was their wedding night. Waiting any longer might lead to spontaneous combustion.  

She raised a brow, scenting his frustration. “I want to see those pants on the ground.”  

Beneath her palm, he grinned a wide unbidden grin. Watching her, he reached for his buckle. In quick, sure motions, he unlatched it then tugged, feeding the belt through the loops. Next, he popped the button on his fly and unzipped.  

He wasn’t adverse to baring himself to the free night air. Without looking around first to ensure they were alone, he discarded the jeans, stumbling out of them and his boots in turn.  

Her smile maxed out the contours of her face. She had to tuck her lips carefully together to hide the flash of her teeth. “I think that’s a new record.” 

He shrugged his shirt over his head so the breeze touched the light spray of dark hair over his chest. Planting his hands on his hips, he nodded encouragement. “Your turn. Let’s see it.”  

She obliged, following the steps he’d taken to the letter. First the belt then the fly before she dropped trow—this she did with a distinct wiggle, drawing his needs up to diamond-hard proportions. Off came the boots, one by one, before she began to fuss with the buttons of her blouse.  

Unwilling to wait a second longer, he took hold of the blouse. There was the sound of tearing. Her mouth dropped open on a gasp as buttons rained to the ground.  

“Oops,” he said, parting the blouse and finding nothing but her underneath.  

Her hands curled into the hair on the back of his head, tugging until his teeth came together. “Brute,” she hissed at him.  

“Never pretended to be anything else,” he claimed.  

Her sharp-edged gaze became reflective and her hands softened. “No, you haven’t,” she murmured.  

He drew in a breath as her body brushed his. The breeze picked up, blowing the long black strands of her hair across the surface of his skin. His heart lurched and the warm tug behind his navel grew into a hot brand.  

Her mouth brushed his and parted it. It was barely there, and it tightened every inch of him. “To the river?” she asked.  

“To the river,” he agreed.  

She led the way, tugging him along by the hand. The grass fell away to wet-kissed soil. The smell of the river—that ancient heart of the land—thickened. Together, they splashed in. The water was cool, not cold as it had been in spring. The current rushed around their ankles then their calves and knees.  

Kaya turned toward him and crouched until the water swam around her abdomen then kicked backward, fanning her arms so she disappeared up to her collarbones. Her smile was broad and content. “The water feels great.”  

He pushed off with one foot and dove in. Sound went thick, a liquid resonance, as the river embraced him. Its gentle undertow passed over him like a caress before he broke the surface. He found a foothold in the silty bottom and shook out his hair.  

Arms linked loosely around his neck, bringing Kaya’s body close against the line of his broad, muscled back. Her lips teased his ear. “You swim like a fish.”  

He wrapped her hand in his and tugged, turning into her. The moon glow shone across the surface of her smooth shoulders. Her eyes glimmered, burning onyx above the restive waters.  

He cupped her hard-cut jaw against his palm. His thumb teased the bottom edge of her mouth. She was built tough, but the soft curve of her lips brought him to his knees often. “Sheriff Sweetheart.”  

Her lashes lowered and her eyes softened on him. “Yes?” 

“How’d I get so lucky as to call you wife?”  

She drew closer, arms spanning his back. “We’re partners, you and I. Through everything.”  

“Everything,” he repeated, absorbing the fact of her—of them. What they’d make of this life, together.  

“Touch me,” she breathed.  

He angled his head toward hers. “Yes, ma’am.”  

The kiss went deep as a fresh spring well. They clung and she let him buoy her, wrapping around him. He held her fast, planting his feet as her legs circled his waist. He ran his hands over her, committing her valleys, curves, and peaks to the map of memory as he did at every given opportunity.  

At his touch, her body tuned and she hummed in answer, arching her spine. As her head tipped back, he ran his five o’clock shadow over her neck, suckling the point at the base where he could feel her pulse ricochet. The heel of his hand pressed to the base of her spine, bringing her hot core against his hard iron shaft.  

She parted over him. Her mouth o’ed and her eyes shut. She torqued back and forth across his length, letting the friction take her.  

It was keen torment. The effort not to insert himself inside her made his molars grind. He let her ride, watching the palette of pleasure paint her face in vivid intensity.  

Her body curled into his, going taut as a bow string. A hoarse, deep cry tumbled from her throat. He caught it, bringing her lips up to his as she shuddered over climax. The fact that this strong woman let herself be weak in his arms made him cherish her that much more.  

“Now,” she murmured.  

“Open your eyes, Kaya.”  

She did, meeting his a moment before he brought them together. He sheathed himself, slowly, fully. Her channel clasped. He felt her quake. His breath quickened and his blood ran hot. She was all he could see, feel, taste…all he’d ever wanted.  

Her arms tautened around him as he began to move, drawing out the motions until they were both well and truly lost—until he drew her back up to that vibrant, shuddering point of intensity and he felt her shatter.  

He came hard, the world zeroing to the point where they joined and the place where her lips skimmed warm and feather light over his. His hands were wrapped up in her hair. “Mine,” he growled. “My own.”  

She nodded without words and didn’t pull away. Not yet. They needed this moment that was theirs. To revel in it as the stars wheeled overhead and the river whispered around them. Tomorrow he’d go back to managing the land and she’d go back to sheriffing. The honeymoon would have to wait because The Edge needed him and the town needed her.  

But tonight was for them. The moon, the stars, and the quiet belonged to them just as they belonged to each other.  

She tipped her head enough to see his face. Her gaze caressed his features and her touch followed suit. “You know I’m going to love you, right? All the days of your life. Just like this. 

Longing struck him all over again. With her, it was as endless as the horizon itself. “Yes, Mrs. Eaton.”  

She arched a brow. “No more ‘Sheriff Sweetheart’?”  

He grinned in a slow, lazy manner. “You’ll always be Sheriff Sweetheart. But here in this space between us, you’re my Mrs. Eaton.”  

She considered. “I suppose I have the rest of our lives to get used to it.”  

“Damn right you do,” he said, laughing as he gathered her in for an open-mouthed kiss.  

It was another hour before they rode off again, back to the lights of Eaton House that burned like promises in the windows of the high desert home that was their own.