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Actually, he looks proud.

Which should embarrass me.

Instead, warmth spreads through my chest so hard it almost aches.

Margie appears beside our booth carrying pie I definitely didn’t order.

“We need colors,” she announces.

“For what?”

“The wedding.”

Rhett takes a bite of my pie like this conversation isn’t horrifying. “Dark green.”

I stare at him. “You cannot already be planning our wedding.”

“You said yes.”

“That was thirty-six hours ago.”

“You’re behind schedule, baby.”

I kick him under the table.

He catches my knee easily, his hand sliding higher along my thigh beneath the table while his mouth curves slightly.

Possessive.

Completely shameless about it.

And the worst part?

I love it.

Because somewhere between the storm and the mountain and the terrifying man who bid on me like he already knew I belonged with him, I stopped wanting the life I left behind.

I stopped running.

And the mountain ranger who won me at the auction to protect me ended up falling first, hardest, and permanently obsessed with the woman he was supposed to keep safe.

Second Epilogue

Rhett

ten years later

The house is too quiet.

That’s the first thing I notice when I step out onto the porch carrying the picnic basket while Nora finishes grabbing the wine from the kitchen.

Ten years ago, silence used to feel normal.

Necessary.

Now it feels suspicious as hell.

No kids yelling. No doors slamming. No tiny boots stomping across hardwood floors. No twin girls arguing over who stole whose sweater while my middle son tries convincing his little brother to jump off something dangerous.