Chapter One
Ridge
The sky tonight is clear, the kind of rare clarity that makes every star seem closer. I adjust the telescope, fine-tuning the lens, and note the position of a new cluster I’ve been tracking for weeks. Nights like this are why I stay on Devil’s Peak—why I avoid distractions, people, and everything that pulls me away from the stars. Out here, it’s quiet. Predictable.
At least itwasquiet until the door to my observatory bursts open.
“You’re missing poker night,” Zane announces as he storms in, his boots leaving a trail of snow across my polished wooden floor. Slate and Grady follow, beers in hand and grins plastered across their faces.
“Not interested,” I mutter, jotting down coordinates. If I don’t engage, they’ll lose interest and leave me to work.
But Zane leans against my desk, knocking over a stack of star charts I spent hours organizing. “Come on, Ridge. You can’t hide up here forever. You’re inching up to forty–when’s the last time you even talked to a woman? Hell, when’s the last time yousawone? Twenty years?”
Slate chuckles. “He’s married to the stars. You should’ve seen him last week, staring at the sky like it owed him something.”
Grady smirks. “Maybe he’s saving himself for his telescope.”
“Funny,” I deadpan, but I don’t look up. It’s easier to ignore them than fuel their nonsense.
Zane’s grin turns wicked. “Well, don’t worry, big brother. I’ve got you covered.”
The tone of his voice makes me glance up. “What did you do?”
Zane shrugs, trying and failing to look innocent. “Nothing much. Just placed an ad. Mail-order bride. You know, to help you out.”
I set my pen down, slowly. “You what?”
Grady laughs, holding up his phone. “It’s real, man. We even got a response.”
“Response?” My voice drops, dangerously low. They think this is a joke, but I’m not laughing.
“Oh yeah,” Slate chimes in. “She’s on her way. Might even be here tonight.”
My jaw tightens. “You’re all idiots.”
Zane claps me on the shoulder, ignoring the storm brewing in my expression. “Lighten up, Ridge. You’ll thank us when she shows up.”
I stand, towering over him. “If anyone shows up because of this, you’re the one explaining it. Now get the hell out of my observatory.”
They laugh their way out the door, leaving behind empty beer bottles and a trail of chaos. I clean up, muttering curses under my breath. The idea of a mail-order bride is ridiculous. There’s no way anyone in their right mind would actually answer one of those things, is there?
Thirty minutes later a knock at the door cuts through my thoughts.
I freeze. No one comes up here unannounced, especially at night. Zane couldn’t have been serious... could he?
Another knock, this time sharper. Whoever it is, they’re not leaving. With a sigh, I open the door.
And there she is.
A petite brunette with sharp green eyes, dressed in a thick winter coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck, and luggage at her feet. She crosses her arms, raising an unimpressed brow.
“You’re Ridge Warner?” she asks, her tone flat, no hint of humor.
“Depends. Who’s asking?”
She exhales, a puff of steam in the cold mountain air. “I’m Quinn–your bride.”
I step back, letting her inside. She brushes past me, her suitcase trailing behind her. Her eyes scan the observatory—star charts on the walls, shelves lined with books, the telescope dominating the center of the room. She whistles low. “Nice setup. At least you’re not a complete fraud.”
