Page 24 of Haunting the Mountain Man
“Cole Opolski and Sabrina Blackwell?”
“That’s us,” I say, squeezing Cole’s fingers.
Noel makes a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh. But when I glance at her, I catch the softening around her eyes. She might never forgive him for last night’s phone call, but she approves of this, of him showing up anyway, of me choosing him despite it all.
The judge drones on, legal words blurring into the rush of blood in my ears. I only snap back when he says, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Cole’s dark eyes lock on mine, steady, unflinching, the faintest tremor of fear still there, but stronger than that, a determination that roots me to the spot.
“I do,” I whisper.
“And do you take this woman—”
“I do.” Cole cuts him off, voice rough, urgent, like he’s been waiting his whole life to get it out.
Noel’s frown flickers into the ghost of a smile.
The judge stamps the papers, slides them into a folder, and clears his throat again.
“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”
Cole doesn’t wait for permission. His hand comes to my cheek, and then his mouth is on mine, firm, hungry, desperate. The kiss isn’t polished or gentle. It’s a promise, raw and binding. The courthouse walls disappear, the paperwork, the whispers, all of it gone.
When he finally pulls back, breath ragged against my lips, he murmurs, “I love you.”
I grin through the happy tears slipping down my cheeks.
“I love you too.”
Noel sniffles behind us.
“Well. About damn time.”
We step out of the courthouse into the sharp bite of late-morning air. The sky is pale and cloudless, the kind of clear that makes edges sharper. I clutch the paperwork in one hand, Cole’s warm grip anchoring the other.
Noel follows us down the steps, heels clicking, arms folded like she’s still the official chaperone of this whole event. She eyes Cole, long and deliberate.
“You break her heart again, lumberjack, and I’ll hex your beard clean off.”
Cole meets her glare without flinching.
“Wouldn’t blame you.”
That startles her enough to soften her frown. She leans in to hug me, quick and fierce, whispering, “Be happy.”
Then she’s gone.
The town is bustling with tourists, festival banners still strung across lampposts, but it all feels muted and distant. Cole turns to me, his hand sliding to the small of my back.
“Ready to go home, wife?” he asks, the last word thick in his throat.
Heat curls low in my belly.Wife.It sounds wicked on his tongue, dangerous and thrilling.
I lift my chin, daring him.
“Lead the way, husband.”
His answering grin is slow, hungry, and full of promise.
