15. Aspen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ASPEN
F our years of undergrad, two years of graduate, and four course-packed years of a doctorate, including a massive thesis and defending my dissertation, have brought me to this moment. A black shapeless gown with a hood and a black cap with a gold tassel is my outfit for this special occasion.
“Now presenting our graduates for Doctor of Philosophy in Forest Science,” the university Dean announces into the microphone on the makeshift stage in Canvas Stadium on the Colorado State University campus.
Names of those in my program are called in alphabetic order of surname. I stand stiffly beside my advisor, trying to demonstrate decorum instead of bouncing excitedly in place like I want to.
My school days are finally complete. How can I not be giddy?
After all these years of study, I’ve achieved my goal—I’m officially a Forest Scientist. All that’s left is to walk across the stage.
“Aspen Cherlyn Fair.”
The audience claps politely. But one lone person lets out a thunderous cheer, echoing around the stadium.
“WOOHOO! Yeah! That’s my woman. You go, darlin’!”
My face heats as I walk to the center of the stage to face the audience. My advisor stands behind me, placing my hood over my head to settle on my shoulders. It feels a tad surreal as I’m handed my diploma, smile through a few camera flashes from the ceremony photographer, all while my wild Mountain Man whistles obnoxiously in the crowd.
Shaking my head with a chuckle, I wave at Brose and my family in the crowd before heading off the stage back to my seat.
As much as I want to go straight to Brose and tell him to take me to bed, this ceremony hasn’t ended, and the day is far from done. I internally groan as I recall we have guests to entertain.
My parents, grandparents, siblings and their families have flown in for the special occasion. I told Brose I didn’t need a party to celebrate. All I needed was him. He was strangely insistent my family be present for the occasion, muttering something about it being “the perfect timing.”
I wasn’t too sure what Brose meant, but I wouldn’t argue with him wanting all my family here to celebrate my big milestone. My life is full of milestones these days with a hunky mountain man, always surprising me with endless love and constant support.
When I spontaneously agreed to moving into a cabin in the Rocky Mountains with a man more rugged than the surrounding nature after only meeting him twenty-four hours prior, most of my family and peers thought I cracked under the pressure of my studies. Many tried to convince me Brose’s and my relationship was moving too quickly, that I would regret jumping from one relationship right into the next without working on myself first. Several others explained it was dangerous to get deeply involved with a practical stranger.
To be fair, had this happened to anyone I cared about, having not experienced the instant connection I did with Brose, I would have thought the same. My family and friends’ concerns were natural given the circumstances, but unnecessary—they weren’t living my experience and had no clue how right everything felt with Brose as my partner.
The last six months have flown by faster than the last twenty-eight years of my life, and I have Brose to thank for it. Not that my course work was boring, but my life was staunchly routine. My studies came first, and everything else second, although the “everything else” in my life was rather dull, even when I dated a weed smoking yurt lover.
School was still my priority—something Brose strongly supported. He understood how important my studies were to me and respected the time I needed to complete whatever course work or studying I deemed necessary. He’d help me anyway he could, by bringing me supper to one of the upstairs bedrooms he converted into an office for me or read through my dissertation to give me feedback when asked. With my education, all that Brose wanted was to help me succeed. It was the “everything else” my man made the opposite of dull.
After long hours of him working in the mountains with his logging crew and me out conducting my course research in the park, his day would be done and mine was far from it. Yet, Brose seemed to know when I needed a break, stating I was rubbing at my eyes too much and doing the heavy sighing thing again as an indicator I needed to stop for the night or take a thirty-minute breather.
Evening walks on the trails around our property is our time to decompress, share the events of the day, and enjoy the nature we love around us. The times I get stubborn about quitting for the night, he hoists me out my chair like I weigh nothing, throws me over his shoulder like a bag of game feed, and takes me to bed where he works my body over until I pass out for the evening.
After the first time of him doing this, I’ll never admit to him I’d get obstinate all the times after on purpose, all because I love nothing more than him going all mountain man on me. Although, I’m sure if he’s caught on to me by now, he plays along. He loves my sass—fake or not—and he loves to fuck it right out of me.
I love our little mountain life. The hikes where he always makes sure I’m safe, to the spontaneous snowball fights where he always lets me win and decides what my prize from him would be—usually involving a bedroom activity. All happy highlights. His little forehead kisses and words of encouragement are a comfort I rely on. The way he randomly sweeps me into his arms and starts dancing with me around the kitchen while we listen to music to prepare dinner always leaves a smile on my face. And the way he tucks me into his chest on the couch to watch a hockey game on silent while I read whatever required course reading is necessary is his way of being present while I work.
With Brose doing the bulk of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry, I completed writing my dissertation months before I needed to defend my research to a committee of forest science experts. Not used to anyone catering to me, I’d often start helping, only for him to shoo me away, telling me, “Essays don’t write themselves.”
He was right, but I didn’t feel right about him doing the brunt of the work. He’d smile at me, saying, “You’ve no idea how happy I am taking care of you.” And he meant it. Every. Single. Time.
To anyone who pooh-poohs us moving too quickly, I shake my head at them. You can’t argue with someone who has never experienced the immediate connection of the person they’re meant to be with. They’ll never understand until it happens to them.
Instead, I focus on my happiness and the mountain man who brings me it. Haters can go on hating.
The university dean speaking into the microphone brings me back to the present.
“Congratulations to all our graduates from all our programs. You are forever a part of our Colorado State University community. Go out into the world with confidence and do great things with the knowledge you have gained. We can’t wait to see what you achieve in this life.”
The crowd cheers, caps are tossed, and everyone makes a mad rush to exit the stadium.
While I’m trying not to drown in a sea of moving bodies, a big hand snags me around my waist, yanking me out of the crowd and against a familiar hard body smelling of my favorite cologne of cedarwood and musk. The flannel of his fresh shirt is soft against my cheek and complements nicely with his new cargo pants, making him the sharpest looking logger I’ve seen. He even went into downtown Fort Collins to get his hair and beard trimmed at the new trendy barber shop.
My man cleans up nicely. It’s sweet he went through all the effort to look nice for me.
Brose’s lips press firmly against my cheek. “Darlin’,” he purrs in his deep timbre, “I’m so damn proud of you. My little forest scientist. Wasn’t too long ago I was liberating you from a tree. Want to go chain yourself to another and let me save you all over again?”
I smirk, staring up at him. “If by saving me you mean fucking me against a tree while I’m restrained, I’m all for it.”
Brose groans a curse, discretely adjusting himself in his cargo pants between us. “Rain check on the foreplay. Your family is waiting.”
He attacks me with kisses before I’m squealing as he throws me over his shoulder. The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea, making our escape from the stadium fast.
Outside, we’re greeted by my family, all wanting hugs and kisses. Brose teases me, using his pointer fingers to push up the corners of his mouth to remind me to smile for the pictures my family insists on taking with me. I glower at him between clicks on their cell cameras, making him chuckle. He knows I hate any attention on me not coming from him. It’s tedious going through the motions, but I know it means a lot to my family.
After a few last shots with me and my mountain man, we’re in the truck heading home with a caravan of family following us back. Brose had spent a lot of time this spring getting the yard ready for the party. He built a pergola over the large deck with hanging light bulbs, made a few more wooden rockers for our guests to enjoy the view, and felled a few trees in the yard to construct a big fire pit with seating around it for all of us to stay warm in the cool spring evening.
Guests chill with their drinks and chat away while a few of my nieces and nephews run around. A handful of my professors made the trek up the mountain for the catered food and to offer their congratulations. All of Brose’s logging crew, including his ever busy brother—Alan—attends, adding inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter to the mix. And during the entire celebration, Brose never lets me play hostess, insisting it’s my day and to relax.
When everyone is sitting down to eat, Brose stands from his seat next to me. He clinks his whiskey glass with his fork, quieting the rest of the group. His normally pale freckled skin is a bright shade of red, and there is a thin sheen of sweat dotting his brow.
Is he embarrassed? Nervous?
Perhaps he’s a lot like me and doesn’t like the spotlight on himself.
Alan smirks at his brother and leans back in his chair with his thick arms crossed over his barreled chest, like he’s in on some inside joke. The other loggers snicker and nudge each other, all enjoying their boss’s discomfort. Even my dad fights a smile, coughing to hide what is clearly a laugh at my man’s expense.
Brose rubs at his throat, swallowing what I assume is nerves for having to talk in front of a bunch of people, most he’s not familiar with.
“I wanted to thank everyone for joining Aspen and I in celebrating her graduation from her doctoral program. She’s spent a hell of a lot of years in school, studying for this moment. I’m happy y’all can recognize her achievement and take part in something truly important to her.”
There are a lot of awes amongst the group, myself included. Brose can be a big teddy bear when he wants to be. It’s nice for everyone else to see this side of him, too.
My man relaxes a smidge, his nerves slowly melting away as he continues. “Aspen is one of the most dedicated and hardworking people I know. She’ll make one hell of a forest field scientist. Whoever she ends up working for will be damn fortunate to have her.”
Alan coughs into his hand. “O’Mara Timber.”
Everyone laughs as I roll my eyes.
A logging company wasn’t on my radar originally until Brose pitched the idea of me working with him and his brother the night we met. Most major logging operations have a forest scientist on their payroll, testing the soils and conditions of the trees. If O’Mara Timber planned on expanding, they needed someone with knowledge managing the science end of the business. Once Alan realized I was an option for company expansion, he’s been actively offering the position to me—anything to let him focus more on the corporate end of things.
The guys will work around my schedule to allow me to continue my research in the field while working part-time for their company. It’s the perfect position for me.
Not wanting to appear like I simply expected to be given the job, I still went through the resume and application process, insisting on an interview and for them to reach out to my references. They did it to humor me, and I appreciate them respecting me enough to not wave it off.
Of course, they offered me a job. I haven’t verbally agreed to anything yet, but I’ve already decided on saying yes—I just need to ask when I start.
When the group settles, Brose turns to me and continues his speech. “I’m proud of you, darlin’. Few people impress me, but you amaze me daily. And I’m so damn fortunate to have found you.”
My eyes water and my throat thickens with emotion. “Brose…”
Before I can say another word, Brose drops to one knee beside me and holds a gold ring with a solitaire diamond in front of me.
Caught completely off guard, my mouth drops open.
“Aspen…” Brose clears his throat before continuing. “I’ve waited a long time to propose to you, purchased this ring the day after you moved in and hid it in the bottom of my dresser drawer for this moment. I would’ve done it immediately, but I wouldn’t distract you from your passion. Now that you’ve graduated, I can’t wait a second longer. Aspen, darlin’, will you make me the happiest man on this mountain and be my wife?”
My answer is immediate. “Yes! Hell yes.” I grab him by his beard covered cheeks and plant a wet one on his lips.
Brose smiles against my lips, kissing me back. He’s barely slid the ring on my finger before everyone descends on us with hugs and congratulations. I can’t stop crying happy tears and Brose’s face is stretched into a permanent smile.
My mom is buzzing with excitement. “Should we plan a wedding for next spring?”
I lean into Brose while I answer. “I was thinking fall.”
My mom taps her chin, wedding ideas already flitting through her mind. “Next fall? That sounds perfect.”
I shake my head before I look up at Brose. “No, not next fall. This fall. On the anniversary of the day we met, where we met.”
Brose smiles victoriously. “A mountain wedding—now that sounds perfect.”
And the rugged Mountain Logger and his nerdy Forest Scientist lived Happily Ever After.