Page 60 of Mountain Protector

Maybe it’s too soon, but I don’t care.

I love him.

“Lark, are you alright?” Knox squeezes my hand gently. “Do you want to leave?”

“No.” I smile at him, feeling lighter and happier than I can ever remember. “This is perfect.”

CHAPTER 14

KNOX

I’ve never felt this nervous about a date before.

When I planned this evening for Lark, I was excited about it. A romantic date, just the two of us, the way I would have liked to take her out from the beginning. Not that I minded our nights in together, playing games and cooking dinner and watching those Hallmark movies that are actually beginning to grow on me.

I’d never admit it to anyone but Lark, but there’s something comforting in the predictability of them. Of seeing the same things in each one—hot chocolate is a must, a woman from the big city falling in love with a small-town guy, and the obligatory first kiss at the end. And as cheesy as it may sound, they give me hope for the part of the movie Lark loves the most.

The happy ending.

Although our story isn’t quite as simple, I hope it ends the same way.

After years of avoiding commitment, I found the person I can see a future with.

With Lark, I don’t just want weeks or months with her. I want years. Decades, even. I want to wake up next to her every morning and cuddle with her each night before bed. I want to plan vacations with her. I don’t want staying at her house to be a temporary thing, but something permanent.

And as I watched Finn and Devin the other night, both happily married, I let myself imagine being married to Lark. Proposing to her. Seeing her walk toward me all dressed in white, her hair like fire and gold as it catches the breeze, her gaze so filled with love as she agrees to be my wife.

Yes, love.

Even a year ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel this way about someone so soon. I would hear some of my friends talk about meeting a woman and just knowing she was the one. Like my old teammate Cillian, who left the Army so he could start a family with his new wife. During his wedding vows, he said he knew Raisa was the woman he’d marry within the first five minutes of meeting her.

It sounded nice, and everyoneawwedappropriately, but I had a hard time believing it. In five minutes? Really? How could you possibly know you want to spend your life with a person in such a short time?

But I knew there was something special about Lark from the moment she jumped off that ladder, covered in wet leaves from trying to clean her gutter, and she just gave me that gorgeous, dragon-slaying smile. From that moment, I knew I had to see her again.

It may have taken me months to get my act together, to actually listen to what my heart was telling me, but now I get it.

Maybe that’s why I’m so nervous tonight—because I’ve never cared about a woman this much before. I’ve always made sure the women I’ve taken out had a nice time, but this feels different.

This time, I want it to be perfect. I want Lark to feel special. Appreciated.

After everything she’s been through over the last month, I want my songbird to have nothing but happy thoughts. I want to see her beautiful smile and knowIput it there.

So I planned the perfect holiday date. I hope.

First, we’re going to the Laughing Goat for their holiday-themed tasting menu, and then we’re taking a snowmobile sleigh ride through Santa’s Wonderland, which is a Christmas light show set up in the woods just outside town. After that, we’ll head back to Lark’s place to watch the newest Hallmark movie while we sit by the tree, enjoying her favorite desserts from Decadent Delights.

I ran the proposed date past Winter after the team meeting yesterday, and shesaidshe’s sure Lark will like it. But now that it’s almost time for the date, I’m having unexpected doubts.

What if Lark doesn’t like the food? What if she gets cold on the sleigh ride? Or what if she thinks the idea of being towed by a snowmobile instead of a horse is silly? What if?—

Shit. I don’t know. I just want this to go right.

Looking in the bathroom mirror again, I give myselfa careful inspection. Hair is as neat as it’s going to be, given that it’s about two weeks past when I’d normally have it trimmed. But Lark said something last week—while running her fingers through my hair—about how she likes it a little longer. “It’s sexy,” she explained, “all tousled and wavy like this.”

So I didn’t cut it.

My beard is neatly groomed and I used this special oil to make it soft and shiny, since the last thing I want to do is give Lark a rash when I kiss her. The white button-down I’m wearing doesn’t have a wrinkle on it, and I give my dark gray suit jacket a final tug at the shoulders to make sure it hangs just right.

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