Grant squeezed her hand. "You're smiling."
"I'm happy." The words came out before Riley could stop them. Simple. True.
Grant's expression softened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They finished the loop through Maple Ridge, and instead of heading back to town, Grant turned onto Route 9.
Riley knew exactly where they were going.
"The overlook?" she asked.
"Unless you object."
"No objections."
The overlook sat at the top of Miller's Hill, offering a view of Pine Valley spreading out below—twinkling lights, smoke curling from chimneys, the kind of postcard-perfect scene that made Riley's chest ache.
"Remember when we used to come here?" Riley asked as Grant pulled into their old spot.
"Every weekend senior year."
"We thought we were so sneaky."
"We definitely weren't. My dad knew."
"He did?"
"He told me years later. Said as long as we were safe and smart, he wasn't going to stop us."
Riley laughed. "Your dad's the best."
"He is."
Grant killed the engine, and they sat there for a moment, the heater running, snow falling soft outside the windows.
"This is nice," Riley said quietly.
"Yeah."
"Just being here. With you."
Grant turned to face her, his expression warm and intent. "Come here."
Riley's pulse kicked up. "What if I want you to tell me what you're thinking first?"
"I'm thinking I want to kiss you."
"Just kiss?" she teased.
Riley's face heated. "For starters."
“Tell me more,” she murmured.
Grant's smile was wicked. "Then come here."
Riley didn't need to be told more than twice. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed across the console—bracing her hand on it for leverage—settling onto Grant's lap, her knees on either side of his thighs.
