Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
My fingers, my toes, my everything curls.
I’m airborne—hopelessly in love—and even when the convulsions subside and I’m back in my body, I just know.
Now that I’m wearing his ring, I will never, ever come down.
“Love you,” Lincoln whispers, still catching his breath. He twirls my ring between his thumb and forefinger.
“You love that I’m wearing your ring.”
“Hell yeah, I do.”
“Good. Because so do I.” Bringing his hand to my mouth, I kiss the palm, and then each finger.
“I thought you were scared?”
“I am, but I was also being stupid. You’ll never leave me, and I know it.”
“You’re mine for life. My only regret is not shoving a ring on you sooner,” he says, taking my hand and kissing it in turn.
We lay there spooned together for a good long while. Eventually, we move to the bed, where Lincoln Burns reminds me just how easily he guides me into the inferno.
I wake up to frigid air and pull the blanket up, snug around my shoulders.
I move to snuggle into Lincoln, but he’s not there.
Weird. I slide out of bed and throw on the oversized white bathrobe I found in the bathroom and leave the room.
“Lincoln?”
“In here, sweetheart.”
I’m smiling before I find him in the kitchen. Through the glass door, I can see how right he was yesterday. The whole mountain gleams with fresh white powder, the same beautiful sight that’s right outside the cabin.
“Do you think we’re snowed in?” I ask.
“One can only hope.”
I laugh. “You want to be snowed in?”
“With you? Sure.”
I pad into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?”
“French toast.”
“Hmm, nice, but what if I prefer French kisses?”
“Let me get this off the stove first, brat.” He presses his lips to my cheek.
My toes curl happily against the cool floor, a question hanging on my tongue.
“...so, um how soon do you want to get married?” I ask shyly.
He chuckles. “As soon as you’re ready. Looks like you’ve gone from wanting to elope to looking forward to the wedding in the space of one night, huh?”
Blushing, I nod.
“I’m so sorry for the way I reacted. It wasn’t fair to you or us. I love you more than anything.”
He moves the French toast from the pan to a plate before he hooks an arm around my waist, drawing me close.
“For a split second, you scared me. You don’t have anything to apologize for, though. I put you through hell once. I know that.”
“It’s behind us,” I say eagerly, pushing my nails gently into his shoulders.
“What changed?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
“When we were on the floor last night, I just realized how very much you love me.”
With a smile brighter than the sun-splashed snow outside, he nods vigorously.
“Damn right. I’m just glad I’ve got the rest of my life to prove it,” he says, finishing with a kiss so brilliant it’s almost blinding.
26
Evermore (Lincoln)
Three Months Later
I fumble with the tie, which is knotted and lopsided.
Groaning, I untie it, clenching my fingers around both ends to try again.
“Easy, tiger. It’s already dead.” Wyatt moves closer, a shit-eating smile plastered on his face. “Let go. I’ve got it.”
“Whoever tailored this suit should have left more room for the tie. It’s too damn long.”
He laughs. “Isn’t this your brand?”
He removes the tie from my neck, lines the ends up, restrings it, and ties it.
“Hell, I didn’t design them personally. I just market them.”
“Don’t say that too loud. Bad publicity.” He sits down on my couch. “You know the tie isn’t what you’re fussing about, right?”
My eyes dagger him.
“What, now you’re my shrink? Okay, Doctor Emory. Enlighten me.”
“Burns, you’re a nervous wreck. You’re gonna be fine. Raven—”
“Will you ever call my wife by her name?” I grumble.
“Raven sounds cooler, but maybe I’ll reconsider once you get through your vows without barfing all over that sweet outfit. She loves you, idiot. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His words are the usual Wyatt crap, but the brotherly slap on my shoulder doesn’t lie.
He means well, and he’s also the closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother.
“You got cold feet?” he asks gently.
I look at him flatly.
“You’re worried she does?”
“...or that she’ll outgrow me,” I admit harshly.
“But you’re willing to risk it?”
“Obviously. I need to know she’s mine.”
“Listen, man, everybody freaks out about starting a new life till one day they wake up, and they’re already living it. You’ll be fine, Burns.”
“But what if—”
“No. Don’t even. You’re not me, and she’s damn sure not Olivia,” he growls.
I check my watch.
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here. If I’m late, Dakota might keel over, and I can’t do that to her.”
Wyatt follows me outside to the limo. Louis waits with a bright-red boutonniere pinned to his lapel, holding the door for us.
“I’m sure you’ll want privacy with your new lady,” Wyatt says in the car, leaning in. “So I’m taking Meadow camping for a few days while you’re starting your honeymoon.”