Page 6 of Big and Rowdy (Big Boys Love Curves #1)

I wake in my own bed with Savannah curled against me, her breathing soft and even, and feel a contentment I've never experienced before.

After our time by the waterfall yesterday, I insisted she come back to my place rather than return to her tent.

"Storm's supposed to roll in tonight," I'd said, though we both knew that wasn't the real reason for the invitation.

The storm did indeed come, and we spent the night alternately making love and talking in whispers, learning each other's bodies and stories with equal fascination.

Now, morning light is filtering through the curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed, and I'm loath to disturb the perfection of this moment.

But my stomach has other ideas, and the smell of coffee would probably be welcome. Carefully, I extract myself from Savannah's embrace and head downstairs to start breakfast.

I'm at the stove when I hear her soft footsteps on the stairs. She appears in the kitchen doorway wearing nothing but my thermal shirt from yesterday, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

"Morning, beautiful. Sleep okay?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual even as my heart races.

"Eventually." She moves to the coffee pot, very aware of how the shirt barely covers her thighs. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"Thank you for staying." I abandon the bacon to pull her into my arms, nuzzling her neck in a way that makes her shiver.

Breakfast is a lazy affair—scrambled eggs and perfectly crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and coffee that's strong enough to wake the dead. We eat on the porch despite the cool morning air, wrapped in the same blanket from our first evening together.

"So what's the plan for today?" she asks, curled against my side with her coffee mug warming her hands.

"That depends. How long are you planning to stick around?" The question I've been dreading to ask, but needing to know the answer to. She bites her lip, and I can see her weighing her options.

"I was supposed to head out Wednesday. I've got a client meeting in Calgary on Friday."

"Supposed to?"

"Well, I could probably push the meeting back a few days. Work remotely for a while longer." The words seem to surprise her even as she says them. "I never change my travel plans for anyone."

My arm tightens around her. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

"That sounds nice," she says carefully.

"Yeah?" I stop walking and turn to face her, my expression serious. "Because I should probably tell you, Savannah—I'm not looking for a fling. I'm not built that way."

Her heart starts beating faster. "What are you looking for?"

"Something real. Something that lasts." I reach up to cup her face, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. "I know it's crazy, and I know we've only known each other a week, but I can't remember the last time I felt this way about someone."

"How do you feel?" she whispers.

"Like I want to keep you. Like I want to wake up next to you every morning and show you every secret place in these mountains. Like maybe I've been waiting for you without even knowing it."

A week ago, I’d bet my cabin that those words probably would have sent her running for the nearest highway. But standing there in the ruins of my family's history, surrounded by the peace and beauty of my world, I see something settle in her expression.

"I should be scared," she admits.

"Are you?"

"No. And that scares me more than anything."

Her laugh is soft and breathless. "Good. Being scared means it matters."

When I kiss her this time, it's with the tenderness of a man who's found something precious. And when she kisses me back with equal fervor, I feel like I could conquer the world.

"Stay," I say against her lips. "Not just a few extra days. Stay and see what this could be."

I watch her face as she processes what I'm asking. I can see the war between her ingrained need to keep moving and something new, something that wants to put down roots.

"This is crazy," she says quietly. "I don't do this. I don't change my plans for men I've just met."

"Maybe that's exactly why you should."

"Okay," she says, the word barely more than a breath.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Louder this time, more certain. "I'll stay."

My whoop of joy echoes through the forest, and then I'm spinning her around, both of us laughing like children. When I set her down, my eyes are bright with happiness and something that feels suspiciously like love. "You won't regret this," I promise.

"I better not," she says, but she's smiling as she says it.

As we walk back toward the house, my arm around her waist and her head on my shoulder, I feel a contentment I've never experienced before. I've spent years trying to prove I was more than just the reckless Hartwell cousin, but with Savannah, I don't feel like I need to prove anything at all.

A local woman walking her dog waves at us from the road. "Morning, Boone! Heard you're showing your city friend around town."

"Morning, Mrs. Winters," I call back. "This is Savannah."

"Nice to meet you, dear. You staying for the festival?"

"I think I might be," Savannah replies, and I feel my arm tighten around her waist.

"Well, well," Mrs. Winters says with a knowing smile. "Isn't that nice. The town's been wondering when one of you Hartwell boys would finally settle down."

As she continues on her way, I shake my head. "And that's how it starts. By dinner, half the town will be planning our wedding."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Savannah asks, surprising herself with the question.

I look down at her, my expression soft. "Not at all."

Three months later, when Savannah's officially moved in and engaged to me, I know she'll look back on this moment as the one where her real life began. But this morning, all I know is that we're exactly where we're meant to be.