Page 8 of One Night with a Mountain Man

Seven

Dillon

Two Weeks Later

The town square's bustling streets quiet down as twilight settles in, casting long shadows over the cobblestones. The bronco statue looms ahead, a familiar meeting spot for locals and a symbol of Pine Ridge's wild heart. Tonight, it stands as my silent partner in crime, the unwitting witness to the leap I'm about to take.

I adjust the picnic basket on my arm, making sure the Champagne doesn't clink too loudly against the glasses nestled inside. A small velvet box presses against my thigh through the fabric of my jacket pocket, a constant reminder of the promise I'm ready to make.

As I round the corner, I spot her waiting. Her blonde hair glimmers under the street lamps, and she's got that easy smile that always knocks the wind right out of me. She spots me and her blue eyes light up.

"Hey there, cowboy," she calls out, teasing in her voice.

I can't help but chuckle. "Evening, ma'am. You haven't known me that long, but I think you're aware I'm not really a cowboy, yes?"

We close the distance with a few eager steps and I sweep her into a hug that lifts her off her feet for a moment. She laughs, and it's like music after a long silence.

"I'm aware. But there's a ranch on the edge of town. There's a bronze cowboy right in front of us. Just seems appropriate to call somebody a cowboy." She bobs a nod as if her reasoning is indisputable. So I go with it.

You're in a good mood," she observes as her feet touch back down.

I nod, setting the basket down and taking her hands in mine. "Got every reason to be."

We settle on the bench beside the statue, and I pop open the basket. She nods at the spread—cheese, crackers, fruit, and a few other nibbles. When she sees the Champagne her eyes widen.

"Is this a celebration?" she asks.

"Possibly," I say with a grin I can't contain.

She looks at me quizzically but says nothing more as I pour us each a glass of bubbly liquid gold. The fizz rises and pops at the surface.

"To us," I toast, lifting my glass.

"To us," she echoes with a smile that could outshine the moon.

We sip our Champagne and chat about nothing and everything—the way you do when you're with someone who gets you without trying. I want to linger in this moment, but the velvet box is burning a hole in my pocket. My heart is beating out of my chest and I just can't wait.

"Natalie," I start, setting my glass aside. "There's something I need to say."

Her gaze locks onto mine, curious and maybe just a little bit cautious. She takes a sip from her glass and then sets it down too and turns to face me.

"Yeah?" Her voice is soft but steady.

I take a deep breath, it’s now or never. I pull the ring box from my pocket. The small action feels like I was turning the key to a future I'd only dared dream of. Getting down on one knee in front of Natalie, I see the soft glow from the street lamps reflect in her eyes.

"Natalie," I begin, my voice a little more than a whisper. "From the moment I met you, something just clicked. Like two halves that were always meant to make each other whole." My breath was shallow as I poured my heart out to her.

"I love you more than words can say. You've filled my life with laughter, purpose, and warmth. With you, I've found a love that's steadfast and enduring."

Her hands covered her mouth, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

"I want to spend my life making you happy, being there for you through every season. Natalie Stevens, will you marry me?"

Time slowed as Natalie's gaze locked onto mine. She whispered "yes," her voice carrying all the emotion I could dream of, a promise of forever.

I slipped the ring on her finger—a perfect fit—and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her arms wrapped around me as if she never wanted to let go. I could hardly believe this incredible woman had agreed to be my wife.

I vowed then and there, with every star as my witness, to cherish and adore Natalie for all our days to come. It would be my joy and pleasure to be her protector in all things for the rest of our lives.

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