Page 69 of Danger Close
And then there was the house.
Their house.
The bluff they’d claimed had turned into a construction site overnight.Apparently, when money was no object—and when the crew knew better than to argue with Riley or Dev—foundations were poured, steel frames raised, and windows ordered with glass so thick you could probably try to shoot someone through it and have to watch them walk away.Okay, so that was a reality.It was bulletproof, Ezra had ordered it specially.
It was real now.
They were building a life.
He hadn’t seen Ricky since early afternoon.And that wasn’t like him.He left his vantage point and went to find his man.
Ezra found Blake just outside the comms room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a grim expression on his face.
“Hey,” Blake said, “you seen your other half lately?”
Ezra frowned.“He was with me after lunch, sorting insulation specs.”
Blake raised a brow.“Well, it’s nearly dinner, and he’s not back.Could be nothing—might’ve wandered off toward the build site again.But with that shoulder injury and your track record of ignoring logic when you’re in love...”
Ezra was already moving.
He jogged across the Ridge, boots pounding against the path, dodging a drone technician and a pony pulling an empty cart and what looked like a bag of marshmallows sticking out of a saddlebag (he didn’t want to know).The air shifted as he neared the edge of the bluff, that familiar pull in his chest dragging him toward the building site.
And then he saw it.
Soft light coming from the corner of the house.As he got closer, he saw a mattress.On the deck of the future master bedroom.
Soft music floated on the breeze from a small speaker.A fire in a brazier crackled nearby.A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket with two glasses beside it.Plates of food—and probably real food if the silver warmers over the top were anything to go by—waited beside cloth napkins.
And in the center of it all...Ricky.His Ricky
He wore jeans, a soft gray tee, and the kind of smile that made Ezra’s knees wobble.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Ricky said, extending a hand.“Dance with me?”
Ezra stopped.Just ...stopped.
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
For all the danger, the pain, the shattered nights and barely healed wounds—this man still found a way to make magic out of ruin.
“You did all this?”
Ricky grinned.“I had help.The neighbors loaned me a pony and cart to lug this stuff over.I brought hot chocolate for later, but can’t find the marshmallows.”
Ezra had an idea where those were.“Blake made sure the pizza didn’t burn.And Marsh, well, Marsh didn’t punch me in the face for using the Ridge’s Wi-Fi for a playlist, so I call that a win.”
Ezra took his hand, let himself be pulled into Ricky’s arms.They swayed in a slow circle as the last light of day bled into stars.
“I thought I lost you,” Ezra murmured.
“You didn’t,” Ricky said.“You never will.”
****
The mattress was softbeneath his back, a cocoon of fleece and clean cotton.Firelight flickered beside him, casting Ezra in gold and amber as he moved—slow, methodical, teasing.Bastard.
