I laughed into her hair. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”
“I’m in love. I’m not dead.”
“There are biscuits downstairs.”
She smiled with deep satisfaction. “I knew I picked the right man.”
I kissed her forehead. “You tied the right man.”
“I picked him and tied him.”
I rolled to my side and pulled her with me. She tucked herself against my chest, one leg over mine, her fingers tracing lazy shapes against my ribs.
“Flint?”
“What is it?”
“I’m proud of you for not throwing the competition.”
My throat tightened.
She kept her fingers moving over my skin. “I would’ve known.”
“I believe that.”
“And I’m proud of me for not needing you to.”
I held her closer. “I’m proud too.”
Her hand flattened over my heart. “We’re going to be impossible together.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Caprice is going to need a separate clipboard.”
“She’ll survive.”
“Ed might not.”
“He’ll complain his way through it.”
Sunny laughed softly, then went quiet. After a minute, her breathing evened out, warm against my chest.
I stayed awake.
Outside the loft window, Fire Mountain disappeared into the blue-black of night. Down in the meadow, the fire rings would be dark by now.
Sunny shifted in her sleep and tucked her face beneath my jaw.
I pulled the quilt over her shoulder, kissed the flour still dusting her hair, and decided my cabin had room for her to stay.
Epilogue
SUNNY
Six weeks later, Cinder Ridge Meadow had rope lines, water buckets, sand buckets, two volunteer firefighters, and a waiting list for cherry-lime pie-iron turnovers.
I took the waiting list as a personal victory.
