Chapter 4
Clover
I’m curled up on Simon’s oversized leather couch in his cabin, wearing one of his hoodies that smells like cedar and him, when it hits me, I’m absolutely delighted by how ridiculous this man is.
The last week has been a blur of Simon’s gentle persistence and my own growing certainty. Every time I reached for my backpack, he found a new way to make me laugh. Or moan. Somewhere between morning hikes and late-night conversations, my fear of commitment began to dwindle.
Simon can say he kidnapped me, but we both know the truth. If I wanted to leave, he’d let me.
I bite back a grin as I watch him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, carefully packing my camera gear into a protective case like it’s made of glass. He’s been doing this all morning, being obnoxiously thoughtful while pretending he’s not trying to make leaving impossible.
“Simon?” I call out softly.
He looks up immediately, that over-the-top protective expression softening the second our eyes meet.
“Yeah, butterfly?”
“I’m going to stay.”
His hands still on my tripod. For a second, he just stares at me, like he’s not sure he heard right. Then the biggest, brightest smile breaks across his face, the kind that makes his green eyes shine and my heart do cartwheels.
But instead of scooping me up and celebrating like I expect, his expression shifts. He sets the tripod down carefully and walks over to me, crouching in front of the couch so we’re eye-level.
“Clover…” He runs a hand through his dirty-blonde hair, looking torn. “I don’t want to be the guy who traps you here. I’ve been acting like a territorial asshole since the moment I met you. If you need to go, hike your trails, chase your next adventure, I’ll support that.”
He takes a deep breath, and my stomach flips because I can see how much this costs him.
“I’ll resign from the department,” he says quietly. “Today, if you want. I’ll pack a bag and travel with you. Wherever you go. Appalachian Trail again, Pacific Crest, wherever your next sponsorship takes you. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”
Tears spring to my eyes instantly. This big, noble, overprotective man is willing to give up everything, his home, his job, the town he loves, just so I don’t feel trapped.
He’s such a sweetheart.
I let the tears fall, not even trying to hide them. My voice comes out wobbly.
“You would really do that for me?”
“Without hesitation,” he says, voice rough. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “I fell so hard and so fast it scared the hell out of me. But I never want you to stay because I made you. I want you to choose me.”
I let him finish. I let him offer me the world and his entire life rearranged around mine. Because I need him to know I see him. All of him.
Then I shake my head, smiling through the tears.
“I’m not going anywhere, Simon. I’m staying in Crescent Ridge. I already emailed Gloria this morning about making the PR gig permanent. I want the mountain views, the small town chaos, and—” I reach out and tug gently on the front of his shirt. “I want you. All of you.”
“Fuck, Clover,” he breathes, voice cracking as he pulls me into his arms. He buries his face in my neck, holding me so tight I can barely breathe. “I thought I was losing you.”
“You’re not,” I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes shining with everything he’s been holding back.
“I love you. I know it’s fast. I know I’m probably insane.
But I’ve been in love with you since you smiled at me outside the tourist center.
Since I carried you down that trail and realized I’d do anything to keep you breathing.
I love your laugh, and adore the way you light up when you’re behind that camera. I love all of it. I love you.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, but they’re the happy kind. I cup his face with both hands and kiss him, slow and deep and full of everything I’m feeling.
“I love you too, you ridiculous, wonderful man,” I murmur against his lips. “Even when you threaten to tie me to the bed.”
He laughs, the sound warm and relieved, and pulls me down onto the couch with him, wrapping me up in his strong arms.
“Good,” he says, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my tear-damp lashes. “Because I wasn’t actually going to let you leave. I was just hoping you’d choose to stay.”
I smack his chest lightly, laughing. “Over-the-top caveman.”
“Your over-the-top caveman.”
“Mine,” I agree, heart so full it feels like it might burst.
And just like that, I know I’m home.