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)
“Morning, Sleepyhead,” he says without turning around, his voice rough and low.
“I needed a little extra beauty sleep,” I hum, my tone playful. Watching him like this, raw and primal, has desire rising in my system again.
Ridge glances over his shoulder, one brow arching. “Trust me, Quinn. You don’t need any help in that department.”
Heat flares in my cheeks, but I manage to shrug it off, pulling the blanket from Ridge’s backpack tighter around me as I sit up fully. “What are you doing?”
“Digging us out,” he says simply, turning back to his task. “Unless you planned on spending another night in this icebox.”
“You could’ve waited for me to wake up–I can help,” I say, watching the way his muscles move under his tanned skin. It’s hypnotizing, like watching a storm roll across a mountain—powerful and inevitable.
“And miss the chance to play hero?” He grins over his shoulder, sweat dripping down his temple. “Not a chance.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re distracting,” he mutters, his focus back on the snow. “If you keep staring at me like that, I’m never going to finish this.”
“Like what?” I ask, my voice catching on the playful edge of his tone.
“Like I’m your personal caveman,” he says, throwing a glance my way. His eyes catch mine, dark and full of promise, and my stomach flips. “Careful, Quinn. Keep it up, and I’ll give you a reason to stay another night.”
My mouth goes dry, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I manage, my voice unsteady.
“Damn right, I would.” He straightens, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “But I’ve got a job to do first. Can’t protect you properly if we’re stuck in here.”
My chest tightens at his words. Protect me. It’s such a simple phrase, but coming from him, it feels like a promise. One I didn’t realize I needed until now.
For hours, I watch as Ridge works, his strength and determination a testament to the man he is. There’s something mesmerizing about him, the way he moves with purpose, his every action deliberate and sure. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t hesitate. He just keeps going, carving a path through the snow with nothing but sheer will.
When he finally breaks through, sunlight floods the cave, blinding after the dimness. Ridge steps back, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he surveys his work.
“It’s done,” he says, his voice rough with exertion. “We’re free.”
I stand, clutching the blanket around me as I step closer to him. “You’re amazing,” I say before I can stop myself.
He turns to me, his expression softening. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Like…you really are my very own caveman.”
Ridge chuckles, low and deep, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “Careful, Quinn. You’re making it real hard not to throw you over my shoulder and keep you here.”
I swallow hard, my gaze locked on his. “What’s stopping you?”
His eyes darken, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Because if I start, we’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”
His lips brush mine, soft and teasing, before he pulls back. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
The walk back to Ridge’s cabin is quiet, the only sounds the crunch of snow beneath our boots and the distant call of birds. The world around us feels untouched, pristine, as if the storm never happened. It’s beautiful, but all I can think about is the man walking beside me, his hand hovering near mine like a silent promise.
When his cabin finally comes into view, Ridge lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Good to be home,” he says, his voice tinged with relief.
Home. The word lingers in the air, heavy with meaning. For the first time, I wonder if I could belong here, in this place, with this man. But the thought is fleeting, chased away by the memory of my brother’s disapproving glare and the weight of his expectations. I was trying to help my brother by getting out of his hair, but it seems like I’ve made everything worse.
As we step onto the porch, Ridge turns to me, his hand brushing against mine. “You okay?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Go inside,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “I’ll get the fire going.”
I watch him for a moment, his jaw set with determination, before stepping inside. The cabin feels warmer than I remember, the scent of wood smoke and pine wrapping around me like a blanket. But even as I sink into the comfort of it, a sense of unease lingers.
Dreaming of a life with Ridge feels hopeless. No matter how much I want it, I know Grady will never accept us. And as much as I hate to admit it, his opinion matters.