Page 19 of The Mountain Man's Runaway Bride

I shake my head. “You… look happy.”

“I think I am.” Her lips curve up and she turns back to the water. “It feels strange to say after everything that’s gone on. But yeah. I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Moving closer to the water, Quincy kicks off her boots and steps to the edge of the stream. She dips in her toes. I settle on a nearby rock and watch as she splashes and giggles.

It’s so… innocent. So charming. So carefree.

“I’m so glad you brought me here,” she calls over her shoulder.

That makes two of us.

“You know,” I say as she turns back and tiptoes toward me, “I don’t see everything. Not right away.”

Her brows furrow.

“My eye,” I say. “I have a prosthetic. But it doesn’t do a damn thing.”

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. “You’ve adapted so well. I never would’ve known.”

“I had to. My hearing isn’t so good anymore. I learned to compensate. To keep my head on a swivel. To stay aware.”

“That can’t always be easy.”

“It isn’t. But it’s necessary to survive.”

She sits beside me, folding her legs beneath her. “You’re not just surviving. You’ve built a life. A beautiful one. Something most people only dream about. And you’re doing it. You’re living it. Do you know how many people never go after what they want because they’re scared?”

“It’s not an act of bravery or anything.”

“What if it is?”

I shake my head, but she stops me with her nod. “Maybe going for what you want and never accepting the status quo is the bravest thing any of us can do.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes you did.” She takes my hand. “You could have chosen to give up. You could have chosen to drink yourself into a bottle or numb your pain with distractions.”

“No, I couldn’t. That’s what my dad did. That’s not me.”

“Don’t you see, that’s what makes it all the more important.” She squeezes my hand. “You’re not someone who chooses the easy path. And it’s so damn impressive. It’s no wonder I’m crazy about you.”

I suck in a breath. “What?”

“I’m crazy about you,” she says again. “And I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. And if you don’t kiss me first, then I’m going to kiss you.”

Both of our chests are rising up and down rapidly as we stare at each other.

She moves first, but I’m the one to grab her closer as our lips crash against each other.

This kiss isn’t like the first. There’s no hesitation. No confusion. There’s just desire, raw and heart.

Her hand slides up my chest, and I deepen the kiss,. Cupping the back of her neck, I pull her closer until she’s practically in my lap.

I should stop. I know that.

But I can’t.

I want her too damn badly.

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