I help her into the passenger side and then head around. Deacon stands in the door, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t like you, Stone.”
“Feeling is mutual,” I toss back.
He flips me off.
I return the favor.
Lark huffs. “Really? Grow up—the both of you.”
“Only because you said so, Tornado.”
Now it’s her turn to flip him off.
What a full circle we make.
“Be nice to her or I’ll kick your ass,” I threaten jokingly. Okay, half jokingly. I would relish the chance to punch him.
“Name the time and the place, old man,” he tosses back.
“As super fun as this is, you’re ruining my date. Go away,” Lark calls out to him and then turns to me. “Can you not bicker with my brother and just leave?”
I laugh. “Your wish is my command.”
She groans and rests her head back as we drive off.
The ride out to the ridge takes an extra fifteen minutes. I have to take a different route than I would on horseback.
“Where the heck are you going?” she asks. “We can’t get to the ridge on this.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” I grin, steering to the trail that I spent about six hours putting in—with her brothers.
The four of us went out there—Carter came as well—and we cut brush, cleared a few trees that we’re going to pretend were already felled, and removed debris so I could get out here. They bitched the entire time but never stopped working until we knew we could get the machine through here.
It’ll be another few weeks until Lark can ride, and now she can safely come out here anytime she wants.
“Tristan?” she asks, sitting up as she sees us getting through what was unpassable just a few hours ago. “How?”
“Your brothers and I were out here all day.”
Her hands go to her mouth, and she gasps. “You gave me back the ridge?”
“I would swim through a flood for you, Lark.”
I remember when I said that to her, how I felt, the way the words were meant, but then what they’ve become. Lark has always been different than just her last name. She’s deserved more than what she’s accepted from the people in her life.
I hurt her when I did the same, and I won’t ever do it again.
She reaches her hand out to take mine. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Cutting down some trees?” I ask jokingly.
“No, you know what. This place is special to me—to us—and now I have a way to get to our little slice of heaven.”
I lift her hand, kissing the top of it. “There’s more.”
“There is?”
I grin. “Oh, there is.”
