It’s been five weeks and countless dates since we met, and although the time as flown by, it all still feels like yesterday. Although the intensity of our relationship only continues to grow, the pace in which the stages of our relationship progresses is slow and steady. We spent the afternoons he was off early washing the horses or sitting out in the pasture while they grazed, our conversation never seeming to lull. At night, we always danced, listened to music, and sometimes saw movies.

He’s every woman’s dream, but he’s my reality.

Despite his ridiculously handsome face, I find myself lost in his mind and his heart more often. We had a formal dinner with my family last week, although that seemed far less intimidating, given that we were both used to seeing them together on a daily basis. Well, it was at least less intimidating until the end, when Daddy threatened him with his guns, but Branson took it in stride. And truthfully, I think they’re both rather fond of each other.

“Are you guys going to do it?” Aurora asks.

Snapping out of my daze, I gape at her through the mirror.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. The air surrounding you two is so thick with sexual tension that it’s like the humidity in Hawaii,” she says. “My hair goes to hell in a hand basket every time y’all are around.”

“Uhh . . .” I don’t know what to say.

The thought did cross my mind, especially as I packed the overnight bag I’d be bringing with me. Branson’s family lived in Coal Hill, an hour’s drive on the opposite side of Edmonton. It was far too long for an evening. So he declared we’d be having our first sleepover. I was worried I’d either rip his clothes off before we made it inside or freeze in place from having forgotten how exactly one ‘does it.’

It’s been awhile.

“You haven’t forgotten,” Aurora says as if reading my mind while gazing at her magazine. “It’s just like riding a bike.”

I know for a fact that my baby sister is still a virgin, so I haven’t a clue how she knows this. But it’s a topic I see no point in addressing, because, frankly, I’m not entirely sure I want to know.

After settling on the deep-red romper and gold sandals, I let my hair fall loose around my shoulders. My phone buzzes on the table, letting me know Branson is coming up the drive, and I do one last turn in the full-length mirror.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her.

“They’ll love you!” Aurora calls out as I head down the loft stairs with my ass pillow in tow.

The September sun is starting to lose some of its heat, but I welcome the touch of it against my skin as I step outside and slide my aviators onto the bridge of my nose. His car is winding down the driveway, and for a minute, I have to pinch myself as a reminder that he’s coming to get me.

As he gets out of his car with graceful precision, my mouth waters. He’s wearing dark-washed denim jeans, brown, faded boots, and a black dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He runs a hand through his perfectly disheveled hair, and I roll my eyes a little at the way it makes me sigh.

“There’s my girl,” he hums, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You look beautiful.”

I’m grateful for the ridiculous size of my sunglasses, which hide from him the fact that I’m blushing at his simple words. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get goin,’ angel.” He softly kisses me on the lips before taking my overnight bag and tossing it in the backseat.

The drive to Coal Hill is beautiful, and as the afternoon washes into the early evening, my anxiety gives way to excitement. He’s seen so much of who I am and where I’m from, so I’m delightfully eager to see where he comes from.

After we pull off the highway, the vehicle ascends a small incline, and as the trees clear, a beautiful ranch on top of the hill comes into view.

“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe out, taking in the classic, red barns and older log home.

“I’m glad you think so.” He smiles, pushing his Ray-Bans to the top of his head as he parks. “You ready to meet everyone?”

Nodding, I take his hand, allowing him to help me from the car. My heart pounds steadily as we climb the three steps to the front porch of my boyfriend’s parents’ house.

He’s barely on the top step before a swarm of children comes barreling through the screen door.

“Uncle B! Uncle B!” they all shout in unison, moving around us quicker than I can watch.

When my eyes finally adjust, the swish of a brown ponytail catches my eye and a little girl with bows in her hair tugs on my hand.

“I’m Katie. What’s your name?”

I smile down at her sweet little face. “Nice to meet you, Katie. I’m London.”

“London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down,” the littlest of the boys starts to sing.

“London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady!” the oldest boy finishes before the three of them dramatically fall to the floor.

“Okay, kids. That’s enough,” a pretty, redheaded woman says, holding the screen door open. “It’s usually dinner then the show. In you go. Wash your hands.”

They all stand, rushing into the house as quickly as they left it, and Branson chases behind them, threatening to become The Tickle Monster. Which sounds like a very scary title.

“Sorry about that. I’m Kailee. Heath’s wife.” She holds her hand out. “The two musicians are mine.”

Placing my hand in hers, I laugh. “No need for apologies. They’re lovely.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing for lying,” she teases. “Get your butt on in here, girl. Ashley’s going to love you.”

She holds the door open, allowing me to walk inside. Then I follow her down a long hall into a very busy, very happy kitchen.

“Oh my word, look at you!” A petite brunette with flour all over her apron comes rushing towards me.

I prepare myself for a handshake, but she envelops me in a hug instead. Although it catches me off guard, my arms circle around her and my eyes close. It might be odd to sniff your boyfriend’s mother the first time you meet her, but frankly, I can’t help it.

She smells like a mom.

I’ve not smelled that in so long, so the sensation is entirely overwhelming. Tears well in my eyes, and it takes everything I have not to sob into her shirt. She gives my body a tight squeeze before eventually pulling back, looking into my eyes, and giving me a little wink.

“I’m Ashley, that hunk of burnin’ love’s mama, but you can call me anything you please, sweetheart, as long as it ain’t ma’am.”

A burly man nearly twice her size wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his front. “Quit suffocating her, Ashley. Let her breathe.”

She laughs, swatting him with a nearby oven mitt.

“Charles Tucker, miss. It’s a pleasure to have you in our home tonight.” He reaches out a hand so big that it has to be the size of a catcher’s glove, but once I’ve placed my hand in its grip, he shakes it ever so gently.

I see where some of my man’s sides come from.

“Thank you for having me,” I reply, feeling nothing but welcome in their kitchen.

Arms wrap around my shoulders and a kiss is placed on my temple. “I’m sorry. Someone let the Tickle Monster out to tame the children,” Branson whispers into my ear.

I can’t help the girly giggle that leaves my mouth.

“I see you’ve met some of the crazies,” he announces to the room.

A collective boo and an oven mitt swat follows.

“This is my older brother, Heath.” He gestures to the almost carbon copy walking towards us. “Heath, this is my girlfriend, London.”

“We’ve heard so much about you!” He smiles widely, snagging the two little boys as they run by him. “This is Axel”—he tickles the little one—“and this is Jack”—he tickles the older boy. “And you’ve already met my beautiful wife.”

Squatting down, I shake each of the boys’ hands before their dad lets them loose in the house once again.