Page 58 of Made for Reign

“Because I’m looking,” I say simply. “Really looking, not just at what you present to the world.”

The trees grow denser as we climb higher into the mountains, the road narrowing to barely two lanes. Just when Istart to wonder how much further his cabin could possibly be, he turns onto a nearly hidden drive.

“Almost home,” he murmurs.

The drive winds through towering pines for another quarter mile before the trees part to reveal his cabin.

But calling it a cabin feels like calling theMona Lisaa doodle.

The structure that emerges is magnificent. It’s all natural wood and stone, with massive windows that must offer stunning views. It’s built into the hillside like it grew there naturally, with three levels stepping down the slope with decks and balconies extending from each floor.

“Reign,” I breathe, taking in the craftsmanship, the way every line flows with the landscape rather than fighting it. “This is incredible.”

“Designed and built it myself,” he says, pride evident in his voice. “Took three years, but I wanted something that was completely mine. Every board, every stone, every nail placed exactly where I wanted it.”

He parks in front of a three-car garage that’s integrated seamlessly into the lower level. But instead of leading me to what I assume is the main entrance, he takes my hand and guides me along a stone path that curves around the side of the house.

“Where are we going?” I ask, though I’m happy to follow him anywhere.

“Something I want to show you first.” There’s an odd note in his voice—nervous, maybe? It seems impossible that this confident man could be nervous about anything.

We climb exterior stairs to the second level, where he unlocks a door that opens into a mudroom. But he doesn’t stop there, leading me through the house so quickly I only get impressions. Soaring ceilings, exposed beams, a massive stone fireplace. He’s focused, determined, pulling me down a hallway toward whatever destination he has in mind.

Finally, he stops in front of a closed door. His hand rests on the handle, but he doesn’t turn it yet. Instead, he faces me, something intense in his expression.

“Close your eyes,” he says softly.

“Reign...”

“Trust me.” His free hand comes up to cup my face. “Just close your eyes, baby.”

I do, darkness replacing my view of his handsome face. I hear the door open, feel him guide me forward several steps. The quality of light changes behind my eyelids—brighter, warmer. The scent of fresh paint and sawdust reaches my nose.

“Okay,” he says, his voice rougher than before. “Open them.”

I open my eyes, and my jaw drops.

We’re standing in the middle of what can only be described as an art studio. North-facing windows flood the space with perfect, indirect light. Built-in storage lines one wall, cubicles ready for supplies. An easel stands in the center of the room, and a work table waits along another wall.

“Reign, what is all this?” I whisper.

“It’s an art studio. For you.”

He built a whole art studio for me?

My eyes grow wide. “But how? When?”

“Started the day I got back from San Diego,” he admits, moving behind me to wrap his arms around my waist. “Kept thinking about what you said, about wanting to paint again. About the light in your eyes when you talked about your art. I wanted to give that back to you.”

I turn in his arms, barely able to see him through my tears. “But you didn’t even know if you’d see me again.”

“I knew.” His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs wiping away my tears. “Deep down, beneath all the anger and fear, I knew fate wouldn’t be cruel enough to give me just one night with you. I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Reign,” I breathe, overwhelmed by the gesture, by the faith he had when I gave him no reason to hope.

“I’ve been working on it every day,” he continues. “Tore down the wall to expand the space, installed new windows, built all the storage myself. Marcus thinks I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t care. I needed to build this for you. Needed to create a space where you could be yourself.”

I kiss him then, pouring all my overwhelming emotions into the contact. He responds immediately, his arms tightening around me as he takes control of the kiss. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

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