Page 177 of Forever To Me

Carolinegasps dramatically. “Oh, Lord, my heart.”

Mack snaps a photo. “The internet is going to die.”

Maggie yells, “Put a ring on it!”

Caroline sighs. “I do love a happy ending.”

Poppy nods. “Except we’re not at the end, and I’m personally holding out for an elaborate proposal.”

Cami grins. “Oh, definitelyelaborate.”

Violet pulls back, breathless, laughing against my lips, an amused grin on her face.

“We need new friends,” I mutter.

She chuckles, brushing my knuckles down my jaw. “Nah, we’d be bored without ‘em.”

I put my arm around her and pull her close.

She sighs, dramatic as hell. “Fine. But if you ever surprise me with twenty-four goats again, we’re gonna have words.”

I smirk. “Damn. Guess I gotta cancel my next surprise.”

Violet groans, laughing, and I kiss her again. Because Stormy might be the best damn gift I’ve ever given her. But having her in my life?

That’s the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.

Chapter 40

Violet

Ihave made a horrible mistake.

I thought writing songs with Walker and starting our own label would be a productive, creative, and inspiring experience.

Turns out, it’s mostly him distracting me with his stupid good-looking face and even stupider hot body. Tonight, he even busted out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like that? So good.

We’ve been at it for an hour, sitting in his cabin, notebooks open, guitars out—but absolutely nothing has been written down except for a bunch of nonsense lyrics that make no sense and will never see the light of day.

And it is entirely his fault.

Walker is sitting across from me on the couch, guitar balanced on his knee, one ankle propped up on the coffee table like he has nowhere better to be.

I glare at him. “This is the worst songwriting session I’ve ever had.”

He lifts a brow. “I dunno, Red. That last line you came up with was solid.”

I scoff. “Walker, I said, ‘I like the way you look in jeans, and your truck is kinda nice.’”

He nods seriously. “Country radio loves trucks and jeans. I think you’re onto something.”

I drop my notebook onto the table with a dramatic thud. “I can’t work under these conditions.”

Walker grins, setting his guitar aside and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “What conditions?”

I wave wildly at him. “You! Being distracting. And insufferable. And entirely too attractive for me to focus on actual words.”

He chuckles, running a hand over his scruff. “You think I’m attractive?”

---