Page 18 of Mountain Man's Surrender

He shakes his head. “I only cleared it off.”

“So you were going to ask me to stay.”

He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck before meeting my gaze. “I wanted to show you there were other options. Here, with me.”

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, emotion choking my voice. The gesture, so thoughtful, undoes me.

“I could keep the garage running,” he continues, words coming faster now. “And you could build your jewelry business. The town gets to keep their shop, and you get to pursue your dream.”

I look up at him, tears blurring my vision. “And I’d get you.”

“And I’d get you,” he says, disbelief in his voice.

“I’m going to call Derek,” I say decisively. “Decline his offer.”

The joy that spreads across Landry’s face is worth more than any offer Derek could have made. Landry steps closer and lowers his mouth to mine. The kiss is different from the others, tenderyet possessive, a promise sealed with the press of his lips. Heat spirals through me as I grip his shirt, pulling him closer. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Landry says, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“What’s that?”

“I thought of a name for the cat.”

“You did?” I laugh softly.

“Yeah, Chance,” Landry suggests, eyes never leaving mine. “Since that’s what you’re taking. A chance on me.”

I shake my head, rising on my toes to brush my lips against his once more. “I’m not taking a chance, Landry. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m choosing you. Choosing us with no hesitation whatsoever. But the name?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfect.”

And as Landry pulls me into his arms again, I know with all my heart I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Epilogue

Aspen | Nearly Three Years Later

Thecrispfallairswirls around Landry and me as dusk settles over Wildwood. We unload the last of my jewelry display cases from the back of his truck and onto the shelves at the rear of the garage. My fingers are still stained with silver polish, despite scrubbing them clean, and my body aches with the pleasant fatigue that comes after a long but successful day. The Wildwood Harvest Festival was great last year, but today? Today, it exceeded my wildest dreams.

“You barely have anything left,” Landry says, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet evening air as he effortlessly lifts a heavy wooden crate. The muscles in his forearms flex, and even after two years of marriage, the sight still makes my stomach flutter.

“The Mountain Man pieces were popular.”

Landry sets down the crate and turns to me, a gleam of pride in his eyes that warms me more than a roaring fire would. “Those silver pine pendants were gone within the first hour. And when you did that blowtorch demonstration?” He whistles low. “You had everyone mesmerized.”

“Including you?” I tease, stepping closer to him.

“Especially me.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his calloused thumb brushing against my cheek. “Watching my wife wielding fire and molding metal like it’s nothing special… How could I not be transfixed?”

I lean into his touch, breathing in his scent, and smile. “Mrs. Wilkins bought another piece,” I tell him. “She’s got quite the collection going.”

“I noticed. She pulled me aside to say how proud of you Simon would have been. How you’ve become part of the fabric of Wildwood, just like him.” His voice softens at the mention of my father. “She's right, you know. He would have been proud of you, Aspen.”

I glance toward the town square where the festival cleanup continues, colorful paper lanterns still glowing as darkness settles in. I believe him and Mrs. Wilkins. But the familiar ache that surfaces whenever I think of Simon or my mother settles in my chest as it often does.

The garage door creaks as Landry slides it shut, securing it with practiced ease.

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