by Nicole Snow
I swallow roughly.
This is almost too much, but God I want it.
I want the sweet agony of making my heart vulnerable, trusting him to handle it tenderly and never cruelly.
Because he loves me—eek, loves me—that much.
Because this gorgeous wild man loves me the same way I love him.
Because we’ve already saved each other.
And that makes me brave enough to face anything.
“What are you asking me, Paxton?”
He smiles slowly. “Considering I brought you here, woman, I think you’ve got a good guess. But I’d better do it nice and proper, huh?”
Oh. My. God.
Yes, I know it’s coming, and it still doesn’t take the edge off.
I ignite like a firework factory when Alaska lets go of my hands, takes a step back, and suddenly, unbelievably drops down.
He falls to one knee.
I cover my mouth with both hands, breathing in sharply as he slips a hand into his pocket and withdraws a tiny black velvet box.
His smile sears me, hopeful and bright, as his thumb flicks it open.
There’s a slender golden band with a diamond setting inside. It has a single fractional dot of gold embedded in the center of the gemstone like the heart of a strange flower, a single burning star against the white.
“So, Felicity Randall,” Alaska whispers, so much emotion in that rolling thunder, rich and inviting and enveloping me in his protection even as he short-circuits me with joy. “I can’t imagine a better life than one with you, and I’m an impatient man. I want that life to start now and last forever—if you’ll have me. If I haven’t just made things ten times worse when I doubt you ever want to see anything gold again...but I’m a sucker for traditions.” His grin widens, a teasing spark in his eyes. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Inwardly, I’m screaming.
Every last part of me.
I can’t help myself.
I spring off my knees and hurl myself at him.
He’s so tall even kneeling that I don’t have to bend to wrap my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck, in his beard, in his everything, struggling not to burst out crying like a crazy woman.
“You giant, giant dork,” I rasp out, my throat tight, my lips aching with my smile. “Just...just...put it on me! Alaska, you have to slide it on. That’s the way it’s done. You have to do it.”
“And you’ve got to say the magic word,” he rumbles.
Damn him.
How could I forget?
But a simple “sir, yes, sir” wouldn’t be me.
I feel his laughter rising like an earthquake between us before erupting out of his mouth as he wraps his arms around me.
I can feel the ring, pressing against the small of my back.
I can feel his mouth go rigid and hot under mine. Then I hit him with a volley of kisses, quick and unrelenting, overflowing with sweetness before I manage to snap my face away.
“Is that a yes, Fliss?”
“Yes!” I shriek, and it’s back to pressing kiss after blinding kiss over his jaw, his cheek, working my way to his mouth—where I seize his lips breathlessly. Like I can imprint that yes on him and let him taste, feel, know how happy he’s made me when we’re tangled up so close it’s like we’re one person. “Yes, yes, yes, God yes.”
Groaning, Paxton buries his fingers in my hair and pulls me in for a deeper kiss.
I taste every beat of my heart. Every sigh of my breath. Every fluttering butterfly taking flight in my stomach.
All captured in one awesome melding of the senses and the gentle graze of teeth.
He kisses me like I’m a butterfly myself, and he’d rather die than crush the dust from my wings.
He kisses like he knows he’s the only wind I need to soar.
And I kiss him right back, gasping at the intensity.
I almost don’t want to let go when he slowly draws back, his mouth red and his eyes raging with the same emotion threatening to rip me apart like confetti in the most wonderful mess.
“Gonna need that hand, Fliss,” he teases.
Sniffling, wiping at my eyes, I offer him my trembling fingers.
I can’t look away as he carefully plucks the ring out of the box and slips it onto my finger.
It’s warm like it’s crafted from love’s white-hot brightness. Its weight sits just right on my finger, this perfect presence that feels like an anchor holding me down, holding me steady.
I’m smiling my head off as I look down at it, glittering on my finger in the emerging starlight overhead.
“You know, Felicity Charter has a pretty nice ring to it,” I murmur. “I...I’m glad I know what happened to my dad, but...I’m ready to leave the Randall curse behind. And the Randall name.”
“You ask me, there never was a curse.” Standing, Alaska takes my small hands in his huge paws again. Just one of those hands could guide me anywhere, and I feel it as I look at him. “There was just the road that took you where you were meant to be, Fliss.”
He’s right.
I know he’s right.
But tonight, I feel like a fairy-tale princess, and he’s the charming prince who broke my evil spell with one glorious, sincere kiss.
Falling into his eyes, I can’t help but laugh.
There’s just too much giddiness bouncing around inside me, and I can’t stop it from coming out.
“Even if there’s no curse...are we going to keep the other tradition?” I sway closer to him. “Your timing’s good. Another week and the first frost would’ve killed all the flowers.”
“Got a better idea. Though the flowers would’ve been a good fallback if you’d decided you couldn’t stand to see another speck of gold again.” His eyes glitter with wickedness and humor. “Close your eyes and open your hands. Keep them together.”
I tilt my head curiously, wondering what he’s up to.
Only one way to find out...
Reluctantly, I let go of his hands and cup mine together, all too aware of the weight of the ring, trying not to fidget with it when I just want to touch it and never stop.
But I close my eyes and wait.
There’s a faint click, and then something pours into my palms.
Whisper-light at first, but growing heavier, a silky and almost liquid feeling like flour or sugar. I knit my brows together.
“What is that?”
“Almost done.” That weight in my palms grows just a little heavier before that clicking noise sounds again. “Okay. Open your eyes.”
I do, just in time to see Alaska closing a dark capsule with a few faint sparkles on the lid. The rest of its contents shine in my palm.
Gold dust.
Holy crap.
My palms are full of it, a soft mound of shimmering glitter finer than powder. The gentle evening breeze catches a few wisps and swirls it away from me.
I stare, my breath constricting.
“Is this...?”
“Real?” he finishes, chuckling. “As real as I am. It’s about all I ever found in that old mine up in Alaska. If you aren’t cursed, neither am I, but I figured there was no better way to let go of old memories and start making new ones.” He lifts his chin toward the cliff’s edge. “Go ahead. Make a wish.”
“I don’t need to,” I breathe. “I already have everything I need.”
But this handful of gold dust feels surprisingly heavy.
Like the promise of a bright future given form.
So, holding my hands up and smiling with a delighted laugh, I do it.
I cast it to the universe with love and dreams.
I fling the gold over the edge of the cliff, offering it to the wind.
For a second, it lifts up in an arc of beautiful shimmer like small granules of glowing sunlight—only for the wind to blow it back over us.
Laughing, we lift our arms as it glitters down in golden snowflakes, coating our skin, our hair, even clinging to my e
yelashes.
As I try to blow it back, Alaska catches me, swinging me around and pulling me closer to him.
“My girl,” he whispers. “More precious than any gold ever pulled out of this planet.”
My heart might die.
No one’s ever told me I was worth more than anything.
And when he kisses me, all swirled up in gilded magic, I lose myself in him.
In that euphoric feeling—of belonging to someone who cherishes me, who sees only the good in me, who wants me as I am.
By the time we break apart, we’re a breathless mess, steaming our affection into the night with every shallow, excited breath.
But I think our smiles might be permanent.
Like an unspoken agreement, we lace our hands and turn to find the path—only to freeze at the bright snap of a camera flash.
Eli.
He’s standing just a few feet away, grinning up at us like a cherub, lowering his camera.
“Hi,” he says shyly. “So does this mean you’ll be my stepmom?”
Whoa.
That hits me in a different way, sweet and soft and just a little heady.
“Um, yeah. That’s how it works, right?” Slowly, I grin. “And as your stepmom, I’m pretty sure I left you with the Fords, didn’t I?”
“You both know I wasn’t gonna miss this.” Eli winks, holding up his camera. “No worries, guys. I caught every second for your wedding album.”
Alaska looks down at me, and that intense gaze and good humor dancing in his eyes draws me in.
“Good idea, kiddo,” he says, but he’s locked so intently on me. “But trust me when I say I don’t need a single photo to remember this. I’ll never forget the night I found my wife and took her by the hand into the rest of our lives.”
“Murder, girl. You’re killing me,” he breathes, his hot words falling against the back of my neck.
I’m splayed out on my back reverse cowgirl style, naked, dripping with sweat, and so full of my new fiancé I’m a little scared he’ll break me.
Truth be told, I’m also a little peeved at the well-kept secret I’ve just found out.
Why, oh why, did nobody ever tell me the already amazing sex with a man you’re madly in love with turns into screaming acrobatics the second he puts a ring on your finger?
We’ve been at it for over an hour.
I’m feeling that heat again in the pit of my belly, moaning out a plea, throwing my hips down on his cock again and again.
“Paxton! Oh, God.” I don’t think the noise grinding out of my throat next qualifies as human.
“Give it the fuck up,” he growls back. “I know you’re not done. I know you’re gonna come on this dick plenty more tonight. Let me feel you go, Fliss.”
He’s not asking, I realize.
The way his thrusts quicken, slamming up inside me, daring me to keep pace is no gentle request.
It’s a flipping order.
And I never had a prayer of doing anything but obeying with a lovestruck smile.
Thank goodness he’s holding me up. Behind me, my wrists slip deeper into his hands, my legs shift apart, happily taking it as he pummels me into wild oblivion.
I’m already on the edge and about to see fireworks when he cranes his neck, breathing against my ear, holding his thick fullness inside me in a slow, barely moving tease.
“Gonna come with you, Fliss. Gonna spill every drop. Use that little pussy to suck me off,” he snarls, full throated and huskier than Hades.
Holy unholies.
I. Am. Gone.
I don’t even know what I am as my core tightens, as I push myself down over him, as I throw my head back with a rough, desperate gasp and feel every muscle I own flash melt like butter over a roaring campfire.
“Oh, oh—Pax!” I scream through pinched teeth.
And then all of my senses blur into one until I can’t tell if I’m yelling or breathing or just deliciously drunk on my husband-to-be.
I’m definitely addicted when he swells, giving up a guttural roar, threatening to break the bed as he crashes into me before coming to an abrupt, swelling halt.
His seed burns brighter than the stars tonight as he empties himself out, deep inside me.
Maybe it’s the riptide of emotion or the manic loving or some insane, long dormant urge deep inside me awakening.
But when the white-hot pleasure recedes and I fall against him, his cock still buried inside me and barely holding in a flood, I grab his hand.
“Ever think about adding onto our family?” I whisper, flushed with more heat than I thought I could hold in my blood. “I mean, not right now. And not to scare you. And not saying I’m expecting an answer tonight if you don’t—”
He’s laughing, a low and warm chuckle rolling out of him as he pulls out of me and rolls me over.
We’re eye to eye. He doesn’t answer until he gives me a minute-long kiss.
“Goddamn, you’re adorable. You want to know, huh?” he asks, an animal heat returning to those brown eyes as I nod briskly.
Oof, am I that desperate?
“Fliss, I’m marrying you to make our lives whole. And back when I was younger, I always planned on a bigger family. Even if there’s been a long damned intermission since Eli...I’m ready. You say the word, you drop the protection, and I’ll give you as many babies as you can stand,” he growls.
So, apparently I’m marrying the devil.
This man.
This handsome, powerful, generous tease of a giant.
“Why you looking at me like that? Cat got your tongue?” he whispers, giving me a knowing look.
I fall right into his smile and another torrid kiss, knowing it’ll be far more graceful than any words I can muster.
I know.
Common sense dictates I should be careful what I wish for—and maybe so should he—but I’ve got the funniest feeling this lovely ring on my finger has me itching for wishes unlimited.
Whimpering into his kiss, I start right now, wishing us the moon, the stars, and every soaring beat of my heart.
28
The Golden Word (Alaska)
Months Later
I’ve never seen a wedding come together so fast.
It probably helps that we both have simple tastes.
What helps even more?
Having the entire frigging town come behind us to pitch in, plan, and make it happen.
This is how I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I’ve found more than the woman I’ll spend the rest of my life with. I’ve found my tribe.
The moment I set foot in Heart’s Edge, I knew The Nest was an institution—and even with a few bad apples with sour tongues, the people of this town love their coffee and its keeper.
I get why Fliss had a hard time believing she wasn’t an outcast between Paisley and her father’s past. Not to mention the fact that I hear it takes seven compliments to negate one insult—some psychology tidbit—so I also get why she couldn’t just open her eyes and see how much the good people of Heart’s Edge care.
She had to experience it, their pride and admiration and gratitude.
Hell if it isn’t on full display when our wedding day comes.
The entire town joins us on the outskirts, turning the old Ursa ghost town at the edge of Holt and Libby’s property into a spectacle for the ages.
We’re talking old-timey buildings festooned with flowers that came from—I don’t even know where, considering it’s nippy as hell and all the local plants have wilted. Ms. Wilma has a magic touch when it comes to plants, that’s for damned sure.
We’re deep into autumn, right on winter’s edge, with everybody feeling a little more festive each passing day.
Even so, everything from the old medic’s shack to the farrier’s place to the dashing wild western saloon breathes with green, covered in white lilies and baby’s breath. The air itself swirls with their bright scent, streamers of white and yellow ribbons everywhere, fluttering in the chill breeze.<
br />
It’s an unforgettable sight, so striking I puff my chest out in pride.
The saloon was the only building big enough to hold everyone.
I should know, remembering how I helped Holt with the restoration and renovated it into a tourist destination. Most of the folks are packed inside, including a few of the gossip girls who were once rattlesnakes in their whispers about Fliss.
They’re decked out to the nines in pretty dresses and standing by, watching with envious eyes.
Believe me, they begged mighty hard to get invites. I kept questioning whether or not it was wise, but Felicity showed she was the bigger woman once and for all by letting ’em come.
I haven’t gotten a chance to see the blushing bride yet—she’s still got a lick of superstition about bad luck, being a black cat, and wouldn’t dare break that old tradition where a man can’t lay his eyes on his bride before the wedding—but I can imagine I’ll have stars in my eyes when it finally happens.
I’m in a small room off the bar, letting Holt fuss with my tie.
“Quit squirming, or you’ll catch yourself on something and bust right out of that suit!” he orders.
Outside I can hear the restless, merry chatter. Everyone’s getting amped up and excited.
I almost feel like without Morgan Randall here to give Felicity away, the whole town’s stepped up to stand in for him. Every last one of them tells me without words that I—newcomer that I am—had better be good enough for their girl.
I’m gonna try.
I’m gonna try my damnedest.
Because I know in my heart there’s no one in this world who’ll ever be better for me than the coffee girl with those bewildering blue-violet gems for eyes.
“Hey.” Holt settles my tie, then adjusts the shoulders of my trim black waistcoat with a little jerk. Best we could manage, ’cause there wasn’t a tux shop for three states around that carried my size jacket. “Calm down. You’ve done this once before, haven’t you?”