Chapter 12
Rob
It’s the last night of Maverick Point’s Spring Festival, and yeah—I probably should’ve planned something a little more polished.
Something impressive.
Something traditional.
But the second I see Hadley’s face light up when the Ferris wheel comes into view?
I know I made the right call.
Her whole expression softens, eyes going wide, lips parting in pure, unfiltered excitement.
“I haven’t been on one of these in forever,” she says, almost bouncing on her toes. “Oh, but I love them!”
I grin, guiding her toward the line, my hand settling at the small of her back like it belongs there.
“Yeah? Then why haven’t you gone on one in forever?”
She shrugs, biting her lip.
And just like that—I know.
There’s something there she doesn’t want to say.
My Tiger goes still.
Alert.
Waiting.
So I do what I do best.
I wait for her to tell me.
Just let it happen.
Patient.
Steady.
My hand shifts from her back to her hip as the line moves forward, grounding her, letting her feel me there without pushing.
She looks so damn pretty in a flirty little pink dress with polka dots on it.
It’s kinda hard to concentrate. But I do my best.
Even though I swear I drool every time I see a glimpse of her soft tanned thighs when she walks.
After a beat, she exhales.
“My ex hated them,” she says finally. “He was afraid of heights.”
I cut my Tiger’s growl off before she can hear it.
And then I make myself answer her because she deserves someone who listens.
“That’s a shame.”
She huffs a soft laugh, but there’s something else in it too.
“Actually,” she adds, quieter now, “he just didn’t seem to like any of the things I did.”
That does it.
My jaw tightens.
My Tiger bares his teeth.
“I don’t mean to sound rough, but your ex sounds like a real asshole.”
She laughs—really laughs this time—and I feel some of that tension ease out of her.
“Yeah,” she says. “He’s an asshole, alright.”
I nod once, satisfied.
“So you dated him a long time?”
I don’t want to ask.
Don’t want to picture her with someone else.
Don’t want to imagine another man touching what’s mine.
But I need to know.
She glances at me, then back at the line as it inches forward.
“Short version?” she says. “We were together a couple years. Moved to the city. He decided I wasn’t what he wanted.”
My hand tightens around hers.
She doesn’t pull away.
“I came here to reopen my aunt’s shop,” she continues, softer now. “But honestly? I think I checked out of that relationship long before he did. He probably did me a favor.”
I squeeze her hand.
“Damn right he did, Cookie.”
She looks up at me.
Those eyes—Jesus.
Warm.
Bright.
Soft in a way that hits me right in the chest.
“Any man who can’t see you for the miracle you are,” I say, holding her gaze, making damn sure she hears me, “doesn’t deserve you.”
Something shifts between us.
Quiet.
Heavy.
Real.
And I don’t look away.
I need her to see it.
All of it.
That I want her.
That I respect her.
That I’m not going anywhere.
That I’m the only man who should ever stand at her side again.
The line moves.
We step forward.
And a few minutes later, we’re climbing into the Ferris wheel car together.
It rocks slightly as we settle in, the bar coming down across our laps.
She’s practically glowing.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.
The ride starts slow.
Lifting us higher and higher.
The festival spreads out below—lights, music, laughter drifting up into the night air.
Hadley leans forward, gripping the edge of the seat.
“Oh my Gods, I forgot how much I love this,” she breathes.
I lean back, watching her instead of the view.
Yeah.
This?
Worth it.
We reach the top, and then—we stop.
She blinks.
“Wait—are we—”
The wheel jerks once.
Then stills.
I glance down, catching the handler’s eye.
He gives me a subtle nod.
Best twenty bucks I ever spent.
Hadley lets out a delighted squeal, grabbing my arm.
“Rob!”
I laugh, steadying her with a hand at her waist.
“You good, Cookie?”
“Yes—oh my God, yes—this is amazing!”
Her face is lit up, cheeks flushed, eyes shining.
It’s a little windy up here. But pretty.
Very pretty, my Tiger chuffs in agreement as my gaze focuses on Hadley.
Maverick Point sits below us—and it looks magical.
There are twinkle lights glowing beneath us, the smells of fair foods and sweet treats, the sounds of music and laughter, the whole nine yards.
The stars are shining, and there’s a big, fat moon hanging low in the sky.
And I don’t think.
I just lean in.
She turns towards me, already halfway there.
And this time?
When I kiss her—she melts.
Soft.
Open.
Her hands come up, clutching at my shirt like she needs something to hold on to.
The world drops away.
No festival.
No noise.
Just her.
Just us.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both a little breathless.
A little shaken.
She laughs softly, like she can’t quite believe it.
“Okay,” she murmurs. “That was wow.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It sure was.”
We ride the rest of the way down a little quieter.
Closer.
My arm around her shoulders now, her leaning into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
After that?
We wander.
Play a few games.
I win her a stuffed tiger that she pretends she doesn’t want but absolutely clutches to her chest five seconds later.
We run into a few Pride members—quick greetings, knowing looks, a couple of smirks I choose to ignore.
And then—I take her hand again.
Lead her away from the crowd.
We move towards the edge of the park across the street, where things get quieter.
There’s a picnic table waiting.
A basket sitting right on top.
Her name in bold pink on a small card where a bouquet of wildflowers sits in a vase.
She stops short.
“What’s this?” she asks.
I help her sit, pulling the bench out for her like she’s something delicate. Something precious.
Because she is.
“This,” I say, letting a slow smile spread across my face, “is dinner.”
She blinks at me.
“Wait—you didn’t—”
“You didn’t think I was gonna feed you corn dogs and cotton candy and call it a date, did you?”
I clutch my chest like she’s personally offended me.
She laughs.
Gods, I love that sound.
Then I open the basket.
Start pulling things out.
Small containers. Neatly packed.
Chilled lobster salad.
Shrimp cocktail.
Slices of ripe tomato drizzled with extra virgin oil and fresh herbs.
Fresh focaccia.
And for dessert—fresh berries and whipped cream.
She just stares.
“Where did you get this?” she asks, eyes wide.
I glance up at her.
Grin.
“Get?” I echo. “I made it, Hadley.”
Her lips part.
“You made all this for me?”
“Sure did.”
She shakes her head slowly, like she’s trying to process it.
“Rob Cray,” she says, voice a little breathless, a little teasing, “I think you’re trying to seduce me.”
I lean in, bracing a hand on the table, closing the distance just enough.
“Is it working?” I ask quietly.
Then I kiss her, hard and quick, right on the lips.
Because I already know the answer.
It’s written all over her face.