"I'm asking..." I pause, realizing I haven't been completely clear. "I'm asking if you'd consider making this our cabin, not just yours. If you'd want me here, permanently. If we could build a life together, starting right here."
She launches herself at me, arms winding around my neck as she presses her lips to mine in a kiss that steals my breath. "Yes," she says against my mouth. "Yes, absolutely yes."
Relief and joy flood through me as I hold her close, ignoring the twinge in my ribs. "I love you," I say again, because now that I've started saying the words, I never want to stop.
"I love you too." She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her own shining with emotion. "So much."
"I'll still keep my place above the garage," I say, practical even in this moment. "For nights when I work late or when one of us needs space. But this could be our home base. Then we can build my cabin into something that we can use for work somehow. Together."
"I love that plan." She settles back against me, both of us looking out at the view Joe Hemmings chose for his retirement, the mountains that brought both of us to this place. "And I love that we're doing this here, where Grandpa built his new life. It feels right."
"It does," I agree, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "He'd be happy for us, I think."
"I know he would." She sighs contentedly. "You know, when I inherited this place, I had no idea what I was going to do with it. I just knew I needed a change, needed to escape a life that wasn't working."
"And now?"
She turns to me with a smile that warms me from the inside out. "Now I know exactly what I'm doing with it. Making a home. With you."
The words settle around us, a promise of the future we're building together. As the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the mountains, I hold the woman I love close, more content than I ever thought possible.
My past is finally laid to rest. My present is filled with Sandra's warmth and light. And our future stretches ahead, full of possibility and promise.
For a man who came to Crimson Hollow seeking only escape and anonymity, I've found so much more. I've found love. I've found home.
And I'm never letting go.
EPILOGUE
SANDRA
SIX MONTHS LATER
Spring sunshine streams through the windows of our cabin, casting golden rectangles across the hardwood floors we refinished together during the winter months. Six months since Diesel officially moved in, since we decided to build a life together in Grandpa Joe's place, and the cabin has truly become ours—a perfect blend of his practical craftsmanship and my cozier touches.
I stand at the kitchen island, going through my mental checklist for today's gathering. Food prepped, drinks chilling, decorations hung. Our first proper housewarming, though we've been living here for months now. The timing feels right—renovations finally complete, garden coming into bloom, and most importantly, the big news we're planning to share with our friends.
"Need any help?" Diesel's voice pulls me from my thoughts as he steps around the kitchen island, freshly showered afterspending the morning at the garage. His hair is still damp, and he smells like soap and that indefinable scent that's uniquely him.
"Just your opinion." I gesture to the array of appetizers I've prepared. "Too much?"
He wraps his arms around me from behind, chin resting on my shoulder as he surveys the spread. "For Sage, Jabari, Marcus, and the others? Not even close. You know how they eat."
I laugh, leaning back against his solid warmth. "Fair point. Especially Roman."
"He works it off," Diesel defends his friend, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. "Speaking of working things off..."
His hands slide from my waist to my hips, drawing me back against him more firmly. Six months together, and his touch still ignites me instantly. I turn in his arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss him properly.
"Later," I promise against his lips. "After everyone leaves."
"I'll hold you to that," he murmurs, giving me one more lingering kiss before releasing me. "What else needs doing before they arrive?"
I check the time—just past noon, with guests due at two. "Nothing urgent. The Mustang's running well for the drive to the airport tomorrow?"
His expression shifts to one of professional pride. "Purring like a kitten. Better than when it was new."
The Mustang had been finished three months ago, a labor of love that took longer than expected due to Diesel's injuries and the specialized parts needed. But now it runs perfectly—a cherry-red dream machine that turns heads whenever I drive through town.
