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)
Grady’s expression darkens, and I know I’m in trouble. “You’re not really crazy enough to go through with this, are you?”
Before I can answer, Quinn steps forward, her chin held high. “No one’s ‘shacking up’ with anyone,” she says firmly. “I’m here for my research. That’s it.”
Her confidence is enough to disarm even Grady, who mutters something under his breath about protective older brothers and leaves it at that. For now.
By the time the brothers leave, I’m ready for a drink. Quinn, however, seems unbothered, her sharp wit cutting through their teasing like a blade.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her as we walk back to the observatory.
“Do what?” she asks, glancing at me.
“Stand up for me. Or whatever that was.”
She shrugs, her expression unreadable. “I wasn’t standing up for you. I was standing up for myself.”
Fair enough. But her words stick with me, the way everything about her seems to. I don’t know what it is about Quinn Stevens, but she’s under my skin in a way I can’t quite shake.
And, God help me, I’m not sure I want to anymore.
Chapter Four
Quinn
The mountain air is crisp against my cheeks, carrying the scent of pine and earth. I adjust the strap of my backpack and glance at Ridge, his long strides eating up the uneven trail ahead. He doesn’t even look winded, while I’m doing my best to keep my breathing steady.
“I thought stargazing was supposed to be relaxing,” I call out, my voice echoing off the trees.
Ridge glances over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “This is relaxing. For people who can keep up.”
“Careful, Warner. Your arrogance is showing.”
He stops abruptly, and I almost crash into him. “Arrogance?” He turns to face me, his sharp jawline illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. “It’s not arrogance if it’s true.”
I roll my eyes, stepping around him. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I ignore the way my pulse skips and keep walking. The trail narrows, the trees closing in as the elevation climbs. Ridge moves behind me now, his presence a steady weight against my back. There’s something comforting about having him close, even if he does drive me crazy.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “why stargazing? What made you fall in love with the stars?”
“Why not?” His tone is casual, but I catch the flicker of something deeper. “The stars don’t judge. They just... are. They’re constant, even when everything else isn’t.”
I glance back at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. “That’s... unexpectedly poetic.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, brushing past me to take the lead again.
We reach the clearing, and my breath catches. The sky stretches wide and endless above us, the constellations shimmering like a thousand diamonds scattered across velvet. It’s breathtaking.
Ridge sets his pack down and spreads out a blanket. “This is it,” he says, his voice softer now. “Best view on Devil’s Peak.”
I drop my bag and sit beside him, tilting my head back to take it all in. “You were right. It’s perfect.”
“Of course I was right,” he says, his gruffness back in full force. But when I glance at him, I see the faintest trace of a smile.
We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels rare and precious. Ridge points out constellations, his voice steady and low, and I soak in every word. I’ve read about the stars my whole life, studied their patterns and mapped their paths, but hearing him talk about them is different. He speaks with reverence, as if they’re old friends.
“You know,” I say, my gaze fixed on the heavens, “I didn’t come to the mountains just for my research.”
Ridge turns his head toward me, his expression unreadable. “No?”
I shake my head. “I came because I wanted more. I wanted to find someone who saw the world the way I do. Someone who doesn’t think I’m crazy for spending hours staring at the sky.”
His gaze lingers on me, heavy and searching. “And you thought a mail-order bride ad was the way to do that?”
I laugh softly, the sound almost lost in the night. “No. That was an accident. But staying here... that’s a choice.”
His eyes darken, the intensity in them making my breath hitch. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Good,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Because you’re not what I expected either.”
We’re just packing up our things to head back to the observatory an hour later when the rumble starts low, like distant thunder. I barely register it at first. But Ridge is already on alert, his posture tense. “Stay here,” he commands, his voice sharp.
“What is it?” I ask, anxiety ratcheting up to match his.
“Avalanche,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the edge of the clearing. “We need to move. Now.”