7. Maple
seven
Maple
Saturday evening finds me standing in front of my bedroom mirror, changing clothes for the third time. The black dress is too formal, the blue top too casual, the green sweater makes me look washed out.
"Mommy, you look pretty," Ally says from my bed, where she's supposedly doing homework but actually watching my fashion crisis with amusement.
"Thank you, sweetheart." I settle on the blue top after all—it brings out my eyes and fits well. "Are you sure you're okay staying with Jake tonight?"
"Uncle Jake promised to teach me how to play poker. And he said we can order pizza for dinner."
Jake had offered to babysit the moment he heard about my date, claiming he needed practice for when he eventually found someone willing to put up with his logging schedule. My cousin has zero filter, but his heart is in the right place.
The doorbell rings exactly at seven. Flint doesn't believe in being fashionably late, apparently.
"I'll get it!" Ally races for the door before I can stop her.
By the time I reach the living room, she's already let him in and is chattering about her school day.
He's dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt that emphasizes his broad shoulders, his hair still damp from a recent shower.
The sight of him in my living room, listening seriously to Ally's story about a playground disagreement, makes my heart skip.
This is what I want. This easy domesticity, this sense of rightness when he's here.
"Hi," I say softly.
His eyes find mine, and the warmth in them makes me feel beautiful. "Hi yourself. You look incredible."
"So do you."
We stand there smiling at each other like teenagers until Ally tugs on Flint's shirt.
"Mr. Flint, are you going to marry my mommy?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Ally!"
"What? You like him and he likes you. That's how it works, right?"
Flint crouches down to her level, completely unruffled. "Your mom and I are just getting to know each other better. But I like spending time with both of you."
"Good. Because she's been happier since you started fixing our house."
My embarrassment shifts to something softer. Has it been that obvious? Have I really been that much lighter, that much more myself, since Flint came into our lives?
Jake arrives to pick up Ally just as we're getting ready to leave, greeting Flint with the easy camaraderie of men who respect each other's work.
"You treat her right," Jake tells Flint with mock seriousness. "She's the best thing to happen to this family in years."
"Jake," I protest, but I'm smiling.
"What? It's true. You've been different since you moved here. Stronger. Happier." He ruffles Ally's hair. "Come on, kiddo. Uncle Jake's going to teach you the finer points of bluffing."
"Is that appropriate?" I ask.
"Life skill," Jake says with a grin. "She'll thank me later."
Dinner is at Silver Lodge, the nicest restaurant in town. The hostess seats us at a table by the window with a view of the mountain ridge that gives our town its name. Flint orders wine, I choose the salmon, and we settle into the kind of conversation that flows like water finding its level.
He tells me about learning stonework from his grandfather, about the satisfaction of creating something permanent in a world full of temporary things. I share stories about building my design business from nothing, about the terror and joy of being solely responsible for Ally's future.
"What made you choose Silver Ridge?" he asks over dessert. "Jake said you could have gone anywhere after the divorce."
"Silver Ridge felt like home in a way Vancouver never did. People here see Ally as an individual, not just Derek's daughter or my responsibility. They see me as someone with value beyond my relationship status."
"You are someone with value beyond any relationship."
"I know that now. But it took living here to really believe it."
He nods, understanding more than I expect. "Torin was the same way after losing his best friend in a fire. Found his worth again by being useful to the community. This place has a way of healing people."
"Is that what you needed? Healing?"
"Purpose, maybe. I was good at my work but not connected to anything bigger. Then I moved here to keep an eye on Torin, and suddenly I'm building foundations for families, creating things that will outlast me. It matters in a way corporate jobs never did."
The waiter brings our check, but Flint waves away my attempt to contribute. "My idea, my treat."
As we leave the restaurant, several people stop to chat—couples from Ally's school, regulars from Juniper's diner, neighbors who've seen Flint working on my house. Everyone is friendly, accepting, treating us like a natural pairing rather than something shocking.
This is what Derek never understood about small towns. The support system, the way people genuinely care about each other's happiness. In Vancouver, neighbors barely spoke. Here, our relationship is becoming part of the community fabric.
"Want to walk down by the river?" Flint suggests as we reach his truck.
It's a clear night, stars brilliant in the mountain sky. We find a bench overlooking the water, and I curl against his side, marveling at how right this feels.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"For dinner?"
"For everything. For showing up when my ceiling collapsed. For seeing potential in my falling-down house. For making me feel like I'm worth the effort."
His arm tightens around me. "Maple, you're worth everything."
"Even dealing with Derek's threats?"
He stiffens slightly. "What threats?"
Damn. I hadn't meant to bring that up. "He called yesterday. Made some comments about how I was making poor choices, how he wouldn't let me put Ally at risk."
"What kind of comments?"
"The usual Derek nonsense. Veiled implications about custody, suggestions that I'm being irresponsible. Nothing concrete enough to worry about."
But Flint is worrying. I can feel it in the tension of his muscles, see it in the hard line of his jaw.
"He texted me too," he admits. "Told me to stay away from his family."
"His family?" Anger flares hot and bright. "Ally and I haven't been his family since he walked out. He doesn't get to claim us when it's convenient. How did he get your number, anyway?"
He shrugs. "I know. But he's still her father. Still has legal rights."
"Rights he's never bothered to exercise. He sees Ally maybe six times a year, usually when his current girlfriend thinks it makes him look responsible."
"Courts don't always see it that way."
The fear in his voice mirrors my own. Derek has money, connections, the kind of resources that can twist legal proceedings in his favor. If he really wanted to make trouble...
"Hey." Flint turns to face me fully. "I won't let him hurt you or Ally. Whatever he tries, whatever it costs, I'll fight it."
"This isn't your battle, Flint."
"The hell it isn't. You're mine now, Maple. That makes your battles mine too."
The possessiveness in his voice should probably bother me. Instead, it sends warmth spiraling through my chest. After years of facing everything alone, having someone willing to stand with me feels like a gift.
"Mine?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
"If you'll have me."
The uncertainty in his voice breaks my heart a little. This strong, capable man still doubts his own worth, still expects to be left behind.
"I'll have you," I whisper, reaching up to kiss him. "All of you, for as long as you'll stay."
"Forever, then."
"Forever works for me."
The kiss deepens, and suddenly the cool mountain air feels warm against my skin. Flint's hands tangle in my hair, and I can feel his heartbeat racing against mine.
"Come home with me," he murmurs against my lips. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."
"Yes," I breathe, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice.
His cabin is only ten minutes from town, tucked into the trees with a view that takes my breath away.
The interior is exactly what I'd expect—clean lines, handcrafted furniture, everything built to last. Personal touches are sparse but meaningful: a photo of him and Torin, a few pieces of his own stonework, books on architecture and craftsmanship.
"It's beautiful," I say, trailing my fingers along a dining table that's clearly his handiwork.
"Not as beautiful as you."
I turn to find him watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse race. The drive here has only heightened the tension between us, and now, alone in his space, there's nothing holding us back.
"Flint," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for but knowing I need it.
He crosses to me in two strides, cupping my face in his calloused hands. "You sure about this?"
"More sure than I've been about anything in years."
The kiss that follows is nothing like our careful explorations before. This is hunger unleashed, need given permission to burn. His mouth is demanding against mine, his hands mapping the curves of my body through my clothes with a reverence that makes me tremble.
"Bedroom," I gasp when he breaks away to trail kisses down my throat.
"You don't have to ask twice."
He lifts me easily, carrying me down the hall to a room dominated by a massive bed built from the same rich wood as his dining table. Moonlight streams through the windows, painting everything in silver and shadow.
He sets me down gently, then reaches for the hem of my top. "Can I?"
I nod, raising my arms so he can pull it over my head. His breath catches when he sees me in just my bra and jeans, his eyes darkening with desire.
"God, you're perfect," he murmurs, hands skimming over my bare skin with a touch that sets me on fire.
I reach for his shirt, needing to feel him, to touch the body I've been admiring for weeks. He's even better without clothes—all hard muscle and warm skin, his chest rising and falling rapidly as I explore him with eager hands.
When we're both naked, he lays me back against the soft sheets, his body covering mine as he kisses me with a tenderness that makes my eyes sting with unshed tears.
"I've wanted this since the first day I saw you," he confesses, lips brushing against my ear. "Wanted to hold you, touch you, make you mine."
"I'm yours," I whisper back, meaning it completely. "Show me."
His hands and mouth worship every inch of my skin, finding sensitive spots I didn't know existed. When his lips close around my nipple, I arch off the bed with a cry of pleasure that seems to drive him wild.
"So responsive," he growls against my breast. "So perfect for me."
His hand slides lower, fingers finding me wet and ready. I'm already trembling on the edge when he touches me there, circling and stroking until I'm gasping his name.
"Please," I beg, not caring how desperate I sound. "I need you."
He positions himself at my entrance, looking down at me with such love and desire that my heart feels like it might burst. "I love you, Maple. I need you to know that."
"I love you too," I breathe, pulling him down for another kiss.
He enters me slowly, carefully, giving me time to adjust to his size. The sensation of being filled by him, of being completely joined, is overwhelming in the best possible way.
"Okay?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding still.
"More than okay. Please."
He sets a rhythm that's both tender and demanding, each thrust hitting depths that make me see stars. I wrap my legs around his waist, meeting him movement for movement as pleasure builds between us like a storm gathering strength.
"So tight," he groans, face buried in my neck. "So good. Never felt anything like this."
Neither have I. Sex with Derek had been mechanical, perfunctory. This is transcendent, a connection that goes beyond physical to something deeper and more meaningful.
When Flint shifts the angle slightly, hitting a spot that makes me cry out in pure pleasure, I know I'm close. My inner muscles clench around him, and he responds by increasing his pace, driving us both toward the edge.
"Come for me," he demands, voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."
The words push me over the cliff. My climax crashes through me in waves of sensation so intense I can barely breathe. I'm vaguely aware of calling his name, of my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure consumes every nerve ending.
He follows me over, his release triggered by the feel of me coming apart beneath him. With a hoarse shout, he buries himself deep and pulses inside me, his entire body shaking with the force of it.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, both breathing hard and covered in a light sheen of sweat. I trace patterns on his chest, marveling at how right this feels, how complete.
"Stay," he murmurs into my hair. "Don't go home tonight."
"I can't. Ally—"
"Is with Jake until tomorrow afternoon. He told me when he picked her up."
The sneaky matchmaker. "You planned this."
"Hoped for it," he corrects, pressing a kiss to my temple. "But only if you wanted it too."
I lift my head to look at him, this man who's become so important to me so quickly. "I wanted it. I want you."
"Good," he says, rolling us over so I'm sprawled across his chest. "Because I'm not nearly done with you yet."
His hands slide down to cup my bottom, and I can feel him hardening again beneath me. The night is young, and we have years of longing to make up for.