Chapter 62 The Hill
JADE
WE HOLD HANDS.
I’ve become the holding-hands type of woman.
Not because I need rescuing. Not because I’m afraid of falling behind. But because this steady, quiet kind of love makes room for holding on without holding back.
We hold hands as the truck rumbles along the back roads. When we climb out of the truck, after he lets the dogs loose, he slips his hand back into mine.
“Do you recognize this place?” He tugs me along as he starts walking, and I fall in step beside him.
“I do.”
The familiar spot is surrounded by pines and mesquite’s on all sides, giving the open space a quiet, tucked-away feel. It had been our refuge. Away from my family, his, and the town. A place where we didn’t have to hide our true feelings.
“The trees are bigger now than when we were young. I almost didn’t recognize it.”
The clearing is open enough for sunlight to reach through.
“This was the only place we could breathe without worrying about everything.” He steps over a fallen branch.
The land belongs to his aunt and uncle, Wyatt’s parents.
“It was like the world didn’t exist when we were here.” I look at the hill we used to climb, then I look at him. “Race you.”
His lip cracks a grin. “You gonna call me a cheater?”
“Are you going to cheat?” I say the last word, and I charge toward the hill.
Totally cheating. Just like I did when we were young. And yeah, he’ll race me with his long legs and I’ll call him the cheater.
“Fox, I love a good chase!” I hear his boots thump, and I run faster.
Godiva and Hershey bound ahead. Their paws trample grass and wildflowers as they race up the hill, eager to reach the top first.
I glance over my shoulder and he’s only a few strides behind. His tall frame moves with effortless speed.
“Run my little Fox.” His voice is delicious.
I push myself harder, enjoying the thrill of the race. His footsteps thump louder as he gets closer. He’s going to fly past me.
He always did.
Then in one smooth motion, his hand is on my waist, pulling me toward him. I squeal as my feet leave the ground, and in a swift, playful move, he tackles me like I’m part of one of his old football plays. We fall together, but he makes sure I land safely, his entire body shielding mine.
He pins me to the ground and leans over me, his chest still heaving from the exertion, but his eyes are full of amusement, and something deeper—tender.
“You cheater.” I’m breathless, and the rush of the run buzzes through my veins.
“You looked like you were about to topple over. I just helped you out.” His tousled hair frames his face.
“You lost your hat.”
“I’ll find it.” His nose brushes mine, then his lips are in mine.
A slow, teasing brush at first, teeth grazing lightly, tongue flicking just enough to make me shiver.
His hand slides down my side, warm and insistent, pressing me closer as the kiss deepens. He swallows my moans. I clutch his shirt, pulling him nearer.
His mouth moves hungrily, lips crushing, tongue sweeping mine, heat building sharp and fast.
I arch into him, gasping softly, every nerve alive under his touch.
Suddenly, a bark cuts through the quiet, and the dogs burst over, tails wagging, noses nudging, yipping like they own the moment.
I jerk back, laughing breathless, brushing hair from my face.
He grins, breathless too, hand still lingering at my hip. “I think they’re jealous.”
The dogs circle us, nudging and barking, and we both flinch, breaking apart, flushed and laughing. Once we’re back on our feet, our hands link as we finish climbing the hill.
As we break the crest, I see something nestled in the old tree’s branches that wasn’t there before.
“Is that treehouse?” But I already know it is.
It’s not some makeshift treehouse thrown together by a group of kids with leftover plywood and nails they’d stolen from their dad’s garage.
No, this was different.
Its weathered wooden walls and slanted roof stand strong with age. A small porch juts out, surrounded by sturdy railings, and a rope ladder hangs down.
“I built it.”
“You built it?”
“After I got hit, I would come here to get away from my family when I felt like they were smothering me and I built this. For you.”
My breath catches.
“For our bucket list.”
“You built me a treehouse?”
He tugs me toward it. The dogs run ahead, barking into the wind, ears flapping with joy.
When we reached the base of the tree, Hart pauses and looks out over the land behind us.
“I talked to my aunt and uncle and they agreed to sell.”
“You’re buying it?”
He turns to face me, his hands taking mine. “We can buy it. If you want to. It wouldn’t be mine, or yours. It would be ours. A fresh start. Not just to live, but to build everything we’ve dreamt.”
Emotion swells in my throat.
Before I can speak, or even before I could even try, he lets out a sharp whistle.
The dogs bound to us.
“How did you teach them that on the ride over?” I laugh, wiping a tear off my cheek.
Apparently, I’ve become a crier too, but I’m okay with that too.
Attacked to Hershey’s harness is a rolled up paper.
“What is that?”
Hart crouches down, gently stroking the dog. “Find out.”
I slide the papers out and open it.
Blueprints.
Real ones.
The kind you submit to an architect. The kind that leads to concrete and lumber and the sound of hammers on fresh wood.
Not just any blueprint, but it’s our dream house. Every detail we love ever discussed. Small. Two bedrooms. The barn attached.
“You remembered all of it,” I whispered.
“Of course I did.” He stands. “And I want to build it with you.”
I look up at him, eyes brimming in stupid tears.
“So?” He slides a piece of hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. “What do you say?”
I glance back down at the plans in my hand, then at the land that stretching around us, cleared just enough for a ranch house and a barn.
I smile.
“I say we build it.”
He kisses me. The kind of kiss I’ll never tire of. Pulling me so close I feel his heart beating against mine, lifting me higher as if we were both suspended in this one perfect moment.
When our lips part he doesn’t let me go. “The matchmakers were asking about our wedding.”
“You didn’t tell them, did you?”
He shakes his head. “It’s our little secret.