Epilogue
Aspen | Nearly Three Years Later
T he crisp fall air swirls around Landry and me as dusk settles over Wildwood. We unload the last of my jewelry display cases from the back of his truck and onto the shelves at the rear of the garage. My fingers are still stained with silver polish, despite scrubbing them clean, and my body aches with the pleasant fatigue that comes after a long but successful day. The Wildwood Harvest Festival was great last year, but today? Today, it exceeded my wildest dreams.
“You barely have anything left,” Landry says, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet evening air as he effortlessly lifts a heavy wooden crate. The muscles in his forearms flex, and even after two years of marriage, the sight still makes my stomach flutter.
“The Mountain Man pieces were popular.”
Landry sets down the crate and turns to me, a gleam of pride in his eyes that warms me more than a roaring fire would. “Those silver pine pendants were gone within the first hour. And when you did that blowtorch demonstration?” He whistles low. “You had everyone mesmerized.”
“Including you?” I tease, stepping closer to him.
“Especially me.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his calloused thumb brushing against my cheek. “Watching my wife wielding fire and molding metal like it’s nothing special… How could I not be transfixed?”
I lean into his touch, breathing in his scent, and smile. “Mrs. Wilkins bought another piece,” I tell him. “She’s got quite the collection going.”
“I noticed. She pulled me aside to say how proud of you Simon would have been. How you’ve become part of the fabric of Wildwood, just like him.” His voice softens at the mention of my father. “She's right, you know. He would have been proud of you, Aspen.”
I glance toward the town square where the festival cleanup continues, colorful paper lanterns still glowing as darkness settles in. I believe him and Mrs. Wilkins. But the familiar ache that surfaces whenever I think of Simon or my mother settles in my chest as it often does.
The garage door creaks as Landry slides it shut, securing it with practiced ease.
“Did you see Bella’s flower truck?” I ask as we head toward the stairs up to our apartment. “It was so cute—all restored and painted with those wildflowers. She made almost as much as I did today.”
Landry unlocks the door, his gigantic frame filling the small landing. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?"
“Maybe,” I admit. “A mobile jewelry shop would let me hit more of the summer festivals without all this setup and teardown. Plus, I could design a rotating display for the pieces…”
“It’s a good idea,” he says, pushing open the door to our apartment. “I could make that happen. The old delivery van behind Earl’s place has been sitting there for years. Bet he’d practically give it away.”
The apartment welcomes us with familiar comfort. We’ve transformed it since I moved to town, renovating it to make it our own. The framed deed on the wall catches my eye as it always does, now prominently displayed with our names, both of them, listed side by side as co-owners of Green Mountain Garage. I drop my bag on the counter then sink onto the worn leather couch, kicking off my shoes.
“I’ll be ready to head up to the cabin in just a few minutes,” I say, making no move to get up.
Landry laughs, the sound deep and rich. “You look like you might fall asleep right there.”
“I might,” I admit, stretching my arms overhead. Every muscle protests after a day of standing, demonstrating, and talking to customer after customer. “But Chance will wonder where we are.”
“Chance,” Landry scoffs as he pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and cracks them open, “is fat and spoiled and used to being alone.” This is true, considering how Landry and I easily spend at least half our time, if not more, in town. He crosses to hand me one of the bottles. “Besides, he enjoys having the cabin to himself. King of his domain and all that.”
I take a sip of the cold beer, savoring the hint of apple from Rhys’s latest brew. “You’re probably right.”
“Then it’s settled,” Landry says, settling beside me on the couch, his solid warmth a comfort against my side. “We’ll stay here tonight then head home in the morning. Maybe, we can grab dinner at Wildwood Brewing if you’re up for it.”
“Perfect plan,” I sigh, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Just give me ten minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
I reluctantly pull myself off the couch and head to our bathroom. The cool tiles beneath my bare feet feel heavenly, and I wiggle my toes against them. Then I splash water on my face and run my dampened fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the wild strands before admitting defeat. A ponytail is the only solution if I want to look presentable for dinner.
My lips curve into a smile as I gather my hair back. Landry always says I look young when I wear a ponytail, and I love teasing him about robbing the cradle by falling for me. That playful accusation never fails to ignite something possessive in his eyes, a determination to prove just how well he can satisfy his younger wife. And I’ll certainly never complain about that particular reaction from my irresistible mountain man of a husband.
When I turn, Landry is leaning against the doorframe, watching me with the intensity that sends anticipation coursing through my veins.
“What do you think?” I ask, smoothing my hands over my hair and turning my head from side to side. “Do I look presentable enough for dinner?”
His eyes darken as they travel from my ponytail down to my lips then lower. “You look like you should be carded ordering a drink.”
I tilt my head, deliberately making my ponytail swing. “Which makes you the one robbing the cradle, old man.”
He steps into the small bathroom, filling the space. A slow smile spreads across his face, and the familiar flutter in my stomach comes to life.
“Old man, huh?” He reaches for me, his large hands settling on my waist. “Want me to show you what this old man can do?”
I place my palms against his chest, his heart beating strong and steady beneath my fingers. I feign confusion, biting my lower lip in a way I know drives him wild. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
“Dinner can wait,” he murmurs, bending to nuzzle my neck. His beard tickles my skin, sending delicious shivers down my spine. “I need to defend my honor.”
I laugh, tilting my head to give him better access. “Poor baby. Did I hurt your feelings?”
His teeth nip gently at my earlobe.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he whispers, his voice rough with promise.
“Is that so?” I arch into him, loving the solid feel of him against me. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
He pulls back suddenly, his hands dropping from my waist. The loss of contact is jarring, and I blink up at him in confusion.
“You know what?” he says, backing away with a gleam in his eye. “I am hungry. Let’s go to dinner.”
I narrow my eyes, recognizing the game. “Landry McCord, don’t you dare stop now.”
He raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “Stop what, Aspen McCord? I’m just suggesting we get some food, like we planned.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I follow him out of the bathroom, catching his arm and spinning him to face me. “You started something there.”
A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Then maybe you should keep going.” Damn him for echoing the words from our first night together that have become a private signal between us.
Heat pools low in my belly as I accept his challenge. “Happy to.”
***