“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.
But for now, I’ll take what I can get. For now, Ridge is here, and that’s enough.
Chapter Seven
Ridge
The sound of laughter filters through the lodge, breaking the usual morning quiet. My brothers are gathered around the main table, mugs of coffee in their hands and knowing smirks on their faces. Slate catches sight of me as I walk in, his grin widening.
"Look who finally decided to join us," he says, lifting his cup in a mock toast. "The man of the hour."
Zane leans back in his chair, his boots propped up on the table like he owns the place. "You seem... different this morning, Ridge. Got a spring in your step. Something you want to share with the class?"
I scowl, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee. "Nope."
"Come on," Zane presses, his tone dripping with amusement. "We’re all dying to know what happened on your little stargazing trip with Quinn."
My grip tightens on the mug, but I keep my expression neutral. "It was a hike. That’s all."
Slate snorts. "Sure it was."
"Leave it alone," I growl, but my brothers only exchange conspiratorial looks.
"You know," Zane says, swirling his coffee, "I think Quinn might be good for you. Finally someone who can put up with your grouchy ass."
I don’t respond, my jaw tightening. I’m not about to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’re right. Because they are. Quinn Stevens has turned my carefully constructed world upside down, and the worst part? I don’t hate it.
I take my coffee to go, stomping out of the lodge, the sound of my brother’s laughter at my back. The air outside is crisp and cool, the snow glittering under the mid-morning sun. I spot Quinn near the beginner slope, crouched beside a little kid who looks no older than six. She’s adjusting his boots, her voice warm and encouraging as she explains how to balance on the board. The kid nods, his face lighting up with excitement.
I lean against the railing, watching as she guides him to his feet and gives him a gentle push. He wobbles but stays upright, sliding down the gentle incline with a triumphant yell.
Quinn claps her hands, laughing. The sound carries on the breeze, wrapping around me like a damn lasso. She’s wearing a bright blue jacket that stands out against the snow, her hair tucked into a knit hat. She looks... happy. Content. Like she belongs here.
When she turns and catches me staring, her smile falters for a second before she shakes her head and starts walking toward me.
"Enjoying the show?" she asks, her tone teasing.
"Not bad," I admit, crossing my arms. "Didn’t know you were good with kids."
"There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ridge Warner," she says, her eyes sparkling with challenge.
I smirk. "I’m starting to figure that out."
She steps closer, close enough that I can see the faint flush on her cheeks from the cold—or maybe it’s something else. Her gaze flicks to my mouth, and my blood heats, my restraint slipping as memories from last night wash over me.
"You’re trouble," I murmur, my voice low.
"Is that a complaint?" she shoots back, tilting her head.
"No," I say, my tone rough. "It’s a warning."
Her breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. The laughter of kids, the crunch of snow—it all fades. All I can see is her, standing there with a mix of defiance and something softer in her eyes.
I step closer, crowding her space. "You think you can handle me, Quinn?"
