Chapter 8
Beneath Your Beautiful – Labrinth, Emeli Sande
Tally
The quiet stretch of land offered a breathtaking view of the mountains.
The snowy silver peaks glinting in the pale sunlight, sentries guarding the land below them.
A bald eagle called to us from above, joyfully welcoming us to the edge of the world.
The land endlessly spread out in front of us toward the horizon.
“It’s beautiful out here.” Exhaling the fresh air on a luxurious sigh I turned to Wilder. Staring out his spine straight as a rod, he smiled serenely. “You picked a great spot.”
His gaze turned to mine. “It wasn’t my original choice, but with the development along this side of the land, it means it’ll be easier to get power and water out here now.”
We were a ten minute ride from the stables, not too far to be remote but far enough to feel the peace and tranquility of the wide open space.
“Have you got a plan for the house?”
He gripped the pommel of his saddle, shifting his weight to one side, letting his hip roll with the sway of the horse beneath him. Brown eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his hat as he looked at me.
“Big bedroom for a huge bed,” he stated, his flirty smile telling me a whole lot more.
“One big enough for your…ego?”
He chuckled. “My ego is much smaller than you think. Now my dick on the other hand.”
I rolled my eyes, biting down hard to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “What else are you planning?” I asked.
“A rose garden out back.”
That surprised me. “Not a games room for a pool table?”
“That’s what visits to Downtown Bar a key to my first car, a cinema ticket from my first date, a lock of mane from Elvira, my pony when I was six.
And then my breath caught as I stared at it, the slightly crinkled brown bag from Missy May’s diner.
The one with the donut’s grease spots. The donuts that Wilder had brought to me that morning.
I’d felt giddy when he’d handed it and the coffee to me, putting it down to my hangover, but I knew deep down it was something more.
I’d kept that bag because I thought it was the best I’d ever get of him. A sweet moment from a man who would one day walk away.
I didn’t trust what we had. Didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust me, so why would he stay. Yet he kept showing up for me. With coffee, with his hands, with his silence when I needed it. Maybe in his way he was showing me that I was worth choosing.
And while I thought about that, I placed the small white feather from an angel that may well have brought him to me, on top of the bag and then gently closed the lid.