"You're up early," Molly said with a teasing grin.
"Planning," Maggie announced proudly. "We're saving children."
Hank tugged off his hat. "Well, now. Sounds like a fine morning to be a Griffin."
And then— "Uh… may I come in?"
Gideon's head poked around the door frame, cautious as a man approaching a lion's den.
Maggie smirked. "Yes, you may, but your fiancée and I aren't finished."
He raised his hands. "Wasn't planning on interrupting."
The kitchen filled with laughter, noise, biscuits, and easy warmth. I felt myself melting into this new life, absorbed into it like I'd always belonged.
After breakfast, Maggie clapped her hands decisively. "Alright, men. Listen up. I'm taking Inga and the children into town today. Molly's coming too."
I blinked. "Town?"
"For stuff for the bedrooms," Maggie explained. "And wedding supplies. And a dress."
Molly groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on, Mama?—"
"No complaints," Maggie said. "You're coming."
Molly rolled her eyes. "Fine. But only if I get to pick the shoes."
Maggie hiked her eyebrow and turned to Hank. "I'll need the checkbook."
He grinned so wide I thought his face would split. "This," he declared, thumping his chest, "is the happiest day of my life. About time the money in this house got spent."
Not much later, we were just about to climb into the truck—Maggie urging us along, the children bouncing with excitement—when the ground began to tremble beneath my feet. Soft at first. Then stronger. A rhythmic thrum that sounded like distant thunder made me look up. Molly paused mid-step, and Hank glanced toward the rise.
And then I saw him.
Gideon.
Riding straight toward me on a golden sorrel stallion, dust curling behind them like a banner. His hat was tipped low, one hand loose on the reins, his shoulders broad beneath his worn denim jacket and sun-faded shirt. Cowboy boots. Coiled rope at his hip. The morning sun was striking him in such a way that, for a heartbeat, I swore I could see the dragon beneath his skin shimmering like heat on a summer road.
Power and grace emanated from him, making my heart beat faster at the sight. I swallowed, unable to believe that this striking man was mine. That soon I would call him husband, and he would call me wife.
He slowed the horse only at the last second, swinging it around in one smooth, impossibly effortless motion. The stallion's hooves kicked up a halo of dust, and I stood there, speechless, breathless, completely undone.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Gideon drawled, removing his hat with a slow sweep that made my knees wobble.
He leaned down from the saddle, the brim of his hat brushing my forehead before he tucked it against his thigh. His eyes—gold-flecked, warm, mine—crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me.
I forgot everything else: Hank, Maggie, Molly, the children. It was only Gideon and me. He reached for my chin with two fingers, tilting my face up.
"Before you go," he murmured, "I needed to tell you something."
I swallowed. "Yes?"
He bent lower. So close I could feel the warmth of his breath. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Inga Weber. You saved me. You gave me a family. You gave me a reason to come home." His voice tightened. "I love you. With everything I am."
My eyes burned hot. Tears I didn't even know I'd been holding welled up and spilled over. I reached up, brushing my fingers along his jaw. "I love you too," I whispered. "More than life. More than I ever thought I could love anyone."
His smile broke into something bright and devastatingly beautiful. Then he leaned down and kissed me. A deep, claiming kiss that tasted like morning sunlight, wild air, and forever. The horse shifted beneath him, tossing its mane, as if the earth itself wanted to lift us higher.
