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)
Chapter Ten
Quinn
The stars above Devil’s Peak shimmer like they’re winking at me the night after our skinny dip session, but I can’t focus on them. Not when Ridge is leading me by the hand up a familiar trail, his grip firm but gentle, his silence stretching between us like a taut string.
“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, half teasing, half exasperated. His back is to me, broad and solid, his flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms that I’ve become embarrassingly familiar with dreaming about.
“You’ll see,” he says, his voice low, gravelly.
That voice. It’s a constant battle not to melt into a puddle every time he speaks, especially when he’s like this—gruff, mysterious, and absolutely in charge.
“Vague answers,” I grumble, though my smile betrays me. “Your specialty.”
He glances back at me, one eyebrow quirked. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“Debatable,” I quip, though my heart flutters when his lips twitch in that rare, almost-smile of his.
The trail levels out, and suddenly, the familiar clearing opens up before us. It’s the same spot where we got trapped during the avalanche, where everything between us began to shift. The air feels heavier here, like it holds all the words we’ve said to each other—and all the ones we haven’t yet.
But tonight, it’s different. A telescope stands in the middle of the clearing, its polished surface gleaming under the starlight. Ridge has strung up fairy lights between the trees, their soft glow casting a golden hue over the clearing. A blanket is spread out nearby, weighted down by a bottle of wine and two glasses.
I stop dead in my tracks, my heart lodging itself firmly in my throat. “What is this?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he turns to face me fully, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath. “Come here,” he says, holding out his hand.
I take a hesitant step forward, then another, until I’m standing right in front of him. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin, and I lean into his touch instinctively.
“I’ve been working on something,” he says, nodding toward the telescope. “Thought you might want to see.”
Curiosity bubbles up, and I let him guide me to the telescope. He adjusts the lens, his movements deft and sure, before stepping back. “Take a look.”
I crouch down, pressing my eye to the lens. At first, all I see is a cluster of stars, their light sharp and brilliant. But then I notice the shape—delicate, intricate, and unmistakable. It’s a constellation, one I’ve never seen before.
“Ridge,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper. “What is this?”
“It’s yours,” he says simply. “I mapped it out. Named it after you.”
My heart stutters, and I pull back to look at him. “You… you named a constellation after me?”
He shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the way his eyes search mine. “You deserved something permanent. Something that’ll outlast both of us.”
I’m not a crier. I’m not. But damn it, the tears are right there, threatening to spill. “Ridge, I—”
“Wait,” he interrupts, taking my hands in his. His palms are rough, calloused, but his touch is so gentle it undoes me completely. He takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing himself for something monumental.
Then he drops to one knee.
Oh. My. God.
“Quinn Stevens,” he begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion, “you walked into my life like a damn hurricane. I didn’t see you coming, and I sure as hell didn’t think I needed you. But now? Now I can’t imagine a single day without you in it.”
I press a trembling hand to my mouth, trying—and failing—to keep it together.
“You’re brilliant, stubborn, and way too good for me,” he continues, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m good enough for you. I’ll protect you, laugh with you, and probably drive you insane with my grumpiness. But most of all, I’ll love you. Always.”
He pulls a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring. It’s simple, elegant, and utterly perfect—just like him.
“Quinn, will you marry me?”
The tears spill over now, hot and unrelenting. I nod, unable to speak, and then force the words past the lump in my throat. “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, Ridge, I’ll marry you.”
His smile is blinding as he slides the ring onto my finger, and then he’s standing, pulling me into his arms and kissing me like his life depends on it. His lips are firm, demanding, and I give myself over to him completely, my fingers tangling in his hair as I press closer.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, I can’t help but laugh. “You named a constellation after me,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.