Page 11 of Trouble with the Mountain Man
I reach up to cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. "You won't lose me. I'm not going anywhere."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've spent thirty-nine years waiting for you without knowing it. Because this house feels more like home with you in it than anywhere I've ever lived. Because when I picture my future, you and Ally are in every part of it."
Her eyes fill with tears, but she's smiling. "That's either the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, or the most terrifying."
"Can't it be both?"
She laughs, rising on her toes to kiss me. This time there's no hesitation, no testing the waters. This is a woman making a choice, claiming what she wants.
When we break apart, she rests her head against my chest, and I hold her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the promise of everything we could build together.
"So where does this leave us?" she asks, her voice muffled against my shirt.
"Wherever you want it to."
She pulls back to look at me. "I want to try. Scared as I am, I want to see what this could be."
"Even with Derek making threats?"
Her expression hardens. "Especially with Derek making threats. I won't let him dictate my life anymore."
Pride swells in my chest. This is the woman I fell for—strong, determined, unbreakable when it matters.
"In that case," I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "how do you feel about me taking you to dinner Saturday night? Somewhere nice. Somewhere the whole town will see us together."
"Are you asking me on a date, Flint Miller?"
"I'm asking you to be my girlfriend, Maple Webster. Publicly, officially, no more pretending this is just about the house."
"Yes. To all of it."
seven
Maple
Saturdayeveningfindsmestanding in front of my bedroom mirror, changing clothes for the third time. The black dress is too formal, the blue top too casual, the green sweater makes me look washed out.
"Mommy, you look pretty," Ally says from my bed, where she's supposedly doing homework but actually watching my fashion crisis with amusement.
"Thank you, sweetheart." I settle on the blue top after all—it brings out my eyes and fits well. "Are you sure you're okay staying with Jake tonight?"
"Uncle Jake promised to teach me how to play poker. And he said we can order pizza for dinner."
Jake had offered to babysit the moment he heard about my date, claiming he needed practice for when he eventually found someone willing to put up with his logging schedule. My cousin has zero filter, but his heart is in the right place.
The doorbell rings exactly at seven. Flint doesn't believe in being fashionably late, apparently.
"I'll get it!" Ally races for the door before I can stop her.
By the time I reach the living room, she's already let him in and is chattering about her school day. He's dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt that emphasizes his broad shoulders, his hair still damp from a recent shower. The sight of him in my living room, listening seriously to Ally's story about a playground disagreement, makes my heart skip.
This is what I want. This easy domesticity, this sense of rightness when he's here.
"Hi," I say softly.
His eyes find mine, and the warmth in them makes me feel beautiful. "Hi yourself. You look incredible."
