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)
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say dryly, strapping my boots into the bindings.
“Ridge, you taking her up?” Slate asks, nodding toward me.
Ridge hesitates, his jaw tightening. “She doesn’t need my help.”
“You sure about that?” I interject, sliding past them to head toward the lift. “I’ve been snowboarding since I was a kid. But hey, if you think you can keep up, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Slate snickers, but Ridge doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he follows me to the lift, his expression unreadable.
The first run is glorious. The powder is fresh, the trail weaving through pine trees and offering stunning views of the mountain. Ridge follows close behind, silent but watchful. When we reach the bottom, I can’t resist poking the bear.
“Not bad for a grumpy old man,” I tease, unstrapping my board.
“Grumpy, maybe,” he replies, his voice low and steady. “But old? Hardly.”
The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine. There’s something about him—his quiet confidence, the way he doesn’t have to try to command attention. It’s infuriating and magnetic all at once.
“Care for another round?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Think you can keep up?”
“Oh, Ridge,” I say, smirking. “The question is, can you?”
By the third run, the tension between us is almost tangible. I’m pushing myself harder than usual, partly to prove a point, partly because I don’t want to admit how much I enjoy having him near. Ridge, for all his gruffness, is an incredible snowboarder—effortless and precise, like he was born to carve through the snow.
At the bottom of the run, I catch him watching me, his expression unreadable. I raise a brow, feeling bolder than I should. “What? Surprised I didn’t faceplant?”
He shakes his head, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Just wondering what the hell you’re doing here.”
“Snowboarding,” I reply innocently. “What does it look like?”
“You know what I mean.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why answer the ad?”
I blink, caught off guard by the question—and the intensity in his eyes. My pulse quickens, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I was curious. Maybe I wanted a change. Or maybe...” I trail off, leaning in slightly. “I just wanted to see what kind of guy advertises for a bride.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “And?”
I shrug, stepping back. “Still deciding.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur of trails and teasing. By the time we return to the lodge, my legs are aching, but my mind is spinning. Ridge is a puzzle I can’t quite figure out—grumpy and guarded, but with a depth that draws me in.
“You coming back tomorrow?” he asks as we unstrap our boards outside the rental shop.
“Maybe.” I glance up at him, smirking. “If you’re lucky.”
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, but I catch the faintest hint of a smile before he turns away.
As I watch him walk off, I can’t help but feel like I’ve stumbled onto something more than just a mountain and a set of constellations. Ridge Warner may not know it yet, but he’s as much a part of this place as the stars above—and I’m not ready to leave just yet.
Chapter Three
Ridge
The hum of the telescope motor fills the observatory, a sound as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. I’ve spent countless nights here, mapping constellations and losing myself in the vastness of the sky. It’s quiet, peaceful. Exactly how I like it.
Or it was until Quinn Stevens showed up.
She stands by the window now, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of starlight. She’s looking through one of her smaller telescopes, her brow furrowed in concentration. It’s a serious expression, but her lips—pink, soft, and way too distracting—are curved slightly upward, like she’s on the verge of solving some cosmic riddle.
“So,” I say, leaning against the console, arms crossed. “How does my setup compare to whatever high-tech lab you’re used to?”
She glances up, her eyes sparkling with a mix of challenge and amusement. “Honestly? It’s better.”
That throws me. I was expecting a snarky comment, not an actual compliment. “Better?” I echo, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not just saying that to get on my good side, are you?”
She steps away from the telescope, her movements fluid, confident. “Your good side?” Her gaze drifts over me, her mouth quirking into a smirk. “Do you even have one?”
Damn. She’s good.
I push off the console, closing the space between us. “Careful, Quinn. You’re starting to sound like my brothers.”
Her smile widens. “Smart, charming, and relentlessly snarky? I’ll take it as a compliment.”
I can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in my chest. “They’re idiots.”
“Idiots who placed a mail-order bride ad on your behalf,” she points out, her tone mock-innocent. “So maybe not completely wrong about you.”