Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
But for now, I’ll take what I can get. For now, Ridge is here, and that’s enough.
Chapter Seven
Ridge
The sound of laughter filters through the lodge, breaking the usual morning quiet. My brothers are gathered around the main table, mugs of coffee in their hands and knowing smirks on their faces. Slate catches sight of me as I walk in, his grin widening.
"Look who finally decided to join us," he says, lifting his cup in a mock toast. "The man of the hour."
Zane leans back in his chair, his boots propped up on the table like he owns the place. "You seem... different this morning, Ridge. Got a spring in your step. Something you want to share with the class?"
I scowl, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee. "Nope."
"Come on," Zane presses, his tone dripping with amusement. "We’re all dying to know what happened on your little stargazing trip with Quinn."
My grip tightens on the mug, but I keep my expression neutral. "It was a hike. That’s all."
Slate snorts. "Sure it was."
"Leave it alone," I growl, but my brothers only exchange conspiratorial looks.
"You know," Zane says, swirling his coffee, "I think Quinn might be good for you. Finally someone who can put up with your grouchy ass."
I don’t respond, my jaw tightening. I’m not about to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’re right. Because they are. Quinn Stevens has turned my carefully constructed world upside down, and the worst part? I don’t hate it.
I take my coffee to go, stomping out of the lodge, the sound of my brother’s laughter at my back. The air outside is crisp and cool, the snow glittering under the mid-morning sun. I spot Quinn near the beginner slope, crouched beside a little kid who looks no older than six. She’s adjusting his boots, her voice warm and encouraging as she explains how to balance on the board. The kid nods, his face lighting up with excitement.
I lean against the railing, watching as she guides him to his feet and gives him a gentle push. He wobbles but stays upright, sliding down the gentle incline with a triumphant yell.
Quinn claps her hands, laughing. The sound carries on the breeze, wrapping around me like a damn lasso. She’s wearing a bright blue jacket that stands out against the snow, her hair tucked into a knit hat. She looks... happy. Content. Like she belongs here.
When she turns and catches me staring, her smile falters for a second before she shakes her head and starts walking toward me.
"Enjoying the show?" she asks, her tone teasing.
"Not bad," I admit, crossing my arms. "Didn’t know you were good with kids."
"There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ridge Warner," she says, her eyes sparkling with challenge.
I smirk. "I’m starting to figure that out."
She steps closer, close enough that I can see the faint flush on her cheeks from the cold—or maybe it’s something else. Her gaze flicks to my mouth, and my blood heats, my restraint slipping as memories from last night wash over me.
"You’re trouble," I murmur, my voice low.
"Is that a complaint?" she shoots back, tilting her head.
"No," I say, my tone rough. "It’s a warning."
Her breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. The laughter of kids, the crunch of snow—it all fades. All I can see is her, standing there with a mix of defiance and something softer in her eyes.
I step closer, crowding her space. "You think you can handle me, Quinn?"
She swallows, her bravado faltering just enough for me to see the vulnerability underneath. "I think I can handle a lot more than you give me credit for."
My lips quirk. "Prove it."
A grin slides across her face before she turns, heading for the chair lift, taking my heart with her as she goes. This woman is more than under my skin, she’s in my blood–done the unimaginable and found herself a home in my heart–and I more than like it, I love it.
The walk back to my cabin later is silent, the air between us crackling with chemistry. Quinn keeps sneaking glances at me, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t say a word. Neither do I.
By the time we step inside, the air feels heavier, thicker. I close the door behind us and lean against it, watching as she shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the couch.
"You’ve been testing my patience all morning," I say, my voice low.
She raises an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. "Oh, I didn’t realize you had any patience to begin with."
I push off the door and stalk toward her, my boots heavy on the wooden floor. She doesn’t back away, even as I stop inches from her, towering over her smaller frame.
"You like pushing me, don’t you?" I ask, my voice rough.