Page 18 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

"What possibilities?" His voice is guarded, but I see hope flicker in his eyes.

"Victoria wants an authentic mountain wedding. What if I specialize in that? What if I become the connection between your world and mine? Mountain destination weddings featuring local craftsmen, local beauty."

He's watching me carefully now. "You'd get tired of the commute."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'd find a way to split my time. To have both worlds." I take a deep breath. "Unless you don't want me in your world at all."

"Christ, Elisa." His voice breaks slightly. He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I haven't wanted anything like I want you in my world. That's what terrifies me."

The confession opens something between us—a door we'd both been afraid to approach.

"I'm falling for you," I whisper. "Fast and hard and completely unexpectedly. And it scares me too."

He reaches across the console, taking my hand in his. "I tried so hard not to feel this. Told myself it was just proximity, just the storm."

"And?"

"And I knew I was lying before you'd been in my cabin for twenty-four hours." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "I don't want you to leave, but I don't want you to stay for the wrong reasons either."

"What if we just... try?" I suggest, hope building. "I have meetings in Toronto I can't miss. But I could come back next weekend. And we could talk, really talk, about what might be possible."

For the first time since the argument, I see him smile—that rare, transformative expression that reaches his eyes. "I could show you the property I bought up on the ridge. Been thinking of building something there."

"A new cabin?"

"Something bigger. A home and a proper workshop." His eyes hold mine. "Always planned it for just me, but..." He trails off, the implication clear.

"I'd like to see it," I say, my heart feeling too large for my chest. "Maybe offer some design input."

"Might need an expert opinion," he says, and I hear the future in his voice. Not certainty, not yet, but possibility. A blueprint waiting to be refined.

He leans across the console and kisses me—not goodbye, but the start of something new. Something we'll build together, adapting to the grain as we go.

"You're going to miss your flight," he murmurs against my lips.

I smile, pulling him closer. "There's always another flight."

For once in my life, the plan can wait… just one more day.

Elisa

Two Years Later...

Istandatthewindow of the Darkmore Lodge bridal suite, watching snowflakes dance in the twilight. Two years since a blizzard stranded me here. Two years since I met the man who would change everything.

Today, I'm not planning someone else's wedding. I'm living my own.

"Five minutes, Elisa!" My assistant Mara calls through the door. "Everyone's seated in the great room."

I take a final look in the mirror. My dress is simple, elegant—ivory silk with subtle beaded details that catch the light like ice crystals. My wedding planning experience made me immune to the princess fantasy; what I wanted was something that felt authentic to us. Like everything in my life now, it balances between two worlds—refined enough for my Toronto clients but relaxed enough for the mountain community that's become my second home.

The great room has been transformed, though not by my hand. I insisted on surrendering control, letting my colleagues handle the details. The massive stone fireplace where I first saw Jace is adorned with winter greenery and white roses. Edison bulbs strung from the exposed beams cast a warm glow over the gathered guests—my city friends and industry contacts mingling with Jace's SAR team and local craftspeople.

And then I see him, standing tall at the end of the aisle. His dark suit is a striking contrast to his usual flannel and denim, but his beard remains untamed, just as I like it. When our eyes meet, his face transforms with that rare, beautiful smile that still makes my heart stutter.

Helen Baxter, acts as officiant. Her words about fate and unexpected journeys bring knowing smiles to those familiar with our story—how the "city girl wedding planner" and the "mountain man craftsman" found something neither was looking for.

"Darkmore Mountain creates its own weather," Helen says, echoing Jace's warning from our first meeting. "And sometimes, its own destiny."

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