Page 159 of Stolen for Keeps
I took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger. Finally. The blue diamond caught the light, framed by a circle of tiny rubies. It stood out against the snow around us. But it was nothing compared to the way her eyes lit up when she looked at it.
She hauled me up and kissed me, full of fire and grace. “Noah,” she breathed, staring at the ring now.
Of course, Maya would get the order right. Kiss first, then admire the jewel.
“Figured I’d stick with the blue theme,” I said. “And add a twist of red.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“Cliché!” she declared, and tackled me to the ground without warning.
We hit the snow hard, a spray of powder flying up around us. Her hair spilled across my chest, her smile wide and wicked and full of joy. She didn’t just say yes. She claimed it.
Then, she said against my mouth, “You just couldn’t help yourself.”
“A man’s gotta do what’s right by his woman.”
She kissed me again, this time like it was a full-contact sport. I barely got a breath in before she knocked me flat a second time, snow tumbling down the back of my collar.
Reko bounced around us, pouncing on drifts. He couldn’t tell if this was a celebration or an ambush.
“And now,” she said with mock sternness, “you’re giving me a proper wedding.”
“Already bribed Mrs. Appleby and booked the band.”
EPILOGUE – MAYA
Six months later
And when wethought The Lazy Moose wouldn’t see another wedding, it did. Today.
Our wedding.
I stood at the entrance of the barn-turned-ceremony hall, the scent of fresh-cut hay and late summer wildflowers filling the air. The doors stood open, spilling afternoon light. Buffaloberry Hill had never looked more magical.
And neither had he.
Noah Lucas. My cowboy. My impossible, made-of-flint, forever.
He stood at the end of the aisle, broad-shouldered in a suit that didn’t belong in the city. Not on him. His top button was undone, the tie abandoned along with traffic, tall buildings, and everything else he’d left behind.
Beside me, Dom adjusted the cuffs of his fitted dress shirt.
“You sure about this?” he muttered. “You really want me to give you away?”
I arched a brow. “You getting cold feet, Powell?”
He scoffed. “I’m far too young to be giving a bride away.”
“Bullshit.”
“Language,” he chided. “There are children.”
I grinned. “With you, I’ll make an exception.”
He offered his arm, and I took it with the grace of a princess. Just for today, I allowed myself to be royalty.
