Epilogue
Rhea
Three Months Later
The Pine Hollow farmer's market is busier than usual for a Saturday.
The air smells like fresh bread and apples and something sweet frying in oil. Local vendors call out greetings. Kids dart between booths with sticky fingers and too much freedom.
Three months ago, I had never heard of Pine Hollow.
Now I have an office two doors down from Gideon's. A modest space with a polished wooden desk, two client chairs, and a brass plaque by the door that reads:
Martinson Forensic Accounting
The first week I opened, three people came in just to ask a question. Two of them are now paying clients.
Turns out, small towns have secrets too.
I'm standing at the pickle stand when strong hands settle at my hips from behind.
"I wondered where you'd wandered off to," Gideon murmurs near my ear.
I lean back against him without thinking. Like I've been doing it all my life.
"The Horseradish Jalapeno pickles you’ve been raving about for months are finally back in stock,” I say, pointing to the display shelf. Before Gideon, I never knew there were so many types of pickles. “I can’t wait to see if they live up to the hype.”
"They do," he says, his face stretching into a smile. "I have excellent taste."
"In pickles?"
"In everything."
I turn in his arms and narrow my eyes at him. "Bold claim, Mr. Hale."
He doesn't smile.
He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.
My heart stutters.
He pulls out a small velvet box.
The world does not stop. No one gasps. The farmer behind the table is still arguing with someone about the price of heirloom tomatoes. A kid nearby drops an apple and bursts into tears.
But all I see is Gideon standing in front me, solid and certain and completely unshaken, like he's simply waited long enough and has no intention of waiting any longer.
"You walked into my office like a woman who wasn't going to let the world push her around," he says. "You challenged me before I'd even had my first cup of coffee."
"That sounds about right."
He opens the box.
The ring is perfect. A timeless emerald-cut diamond set in a delicate golden band. My hands fly to my mouth, and for the first time since meeting Gideon, I’m completely speechless.
"I knew that first day," he says, his voice steady. "I didn't know how I’d make it happen… or how fast we’d fall in love, but I knew you were the woman of my dreams.”
My throat tightens and happy tears prick at the backs of my eyelids.
"You're not a possession, Rhea." His eyes hold mine. "You're my partner. In work. In life. In whatever comes next."
My heart is so loud I'm surprised the whole market can't hear it.
"Was there a question in there?” I tease, my voice barely above a whisper.
He tilts his head. "Rhea Martinson, will you marry me?"
There it is. Simple. Direct. No theatrics. Just Gideon.
"Yes," I say. “Of course, obviously, without a doubt… yes.”
His shoulders drop in a way I've never seen before, something deep and immovable in him finally, quietly settling.
He slides the ring onto my finger.
It fits perfectly. Of course it does. My mountain man detective never misses a detail.
And right there between the pickles and the heirloom tomatoes, Gideon kisses me, slow and thorough, like we’re the only two people who exist in the whole world. The farmer’s market crowd cheers, but I barely hear the applause. I just kiss my mountain man detective with everything I’ve got.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
"You're mine," he says quietly.
"And you're mine," I reply.
His face stretches into a grin. "Good. Because I plan to keep you."