Page 9 of Falling for the Mountain Man

Ryder

Epilogue

I don’t know how these two do it. Sure, I’ve fought fires for years, so I know the definition of hot. Yet, the moment I stepped onto Arizonan land, I was ready to hop on a return flight. The heat here is dry and suffocating.

Now look at me, sweating up a storm while waiting for my two favorite women to leave the campus. Sitting through the graduation ceremony was a challenge in itself, but I’m not budging from the shade of this tree. Not until I have who I’m looking for.

The sea of identical purple and gold caps and gowns is disorienting, but a determined man always finds his mark.

I see Kallie first. She’s a force of nature, beaming, her cap slightly askew as she weaves through the crowd, her laughter carrying over the din. She spots me, her grin widening, and breaks into a run. Just like she always has.

She throws herself at me with the full, unbridled force of her twenty-two years, and I catch her, my own laugh a rough sound in my throat. I spin her once, her gown fluttering around us.

“My graduate,” I murmur into her hair, squeezing her tight. The memory of a scared little girl is superimposed on this vibrant, brilliant woman in my arms, and my heart feels too big for my chest.

“I did it,” she says, pulling back, her eyes shining. “Did you see me up there? Man. Man. ”

“Never had a doubt, kid. Not a single one.”

She kisses my cheek and then, with a knowing smirk, she steps aside. “Okay, my turn’s over. Your other graduate is looking a little lost.”

There she is.

Zaria stands a few feet away, looking shy and breathtakingly beautiful, clutching her diploma to her chest like a shield.

Her cap is perfectly straight with the tassel swept over her shoulder.

She’s watching us, a soft, hesitant smile on her lips, looking for all the world like she’s waiting for an invitation.

She’ll never need one. Not with me.

I close the distance between us in two long strides. Her eyes, the color of pine needles, go wide. She opens her mouth, probably to say something polite and formal, something utterly her.

She doesn’t get the chance.

I frame her face with my hands, feeling the softness of her skin against my work-roughened palms, and I kiss her.

It’s not a gentle, celebratory peck. It’s a claim.

A promise. It’s two years of weekend flights, of late-night phone calls, of soundproofing a room and building a life, all poured into a single, searing connection right here under the brutal sun.

She melts against me, her diploma pressed between us, her free hand coming up to grip my wrist, not to push me away, but to hold on. To anchor herself in the moment.

When I finally pull back, we’re both breathless. The world, the heat, the cheering families—it all fades into a distant hum. There’s only her, flushed and beautiful, her shyness replaced by a dazed, happy wonder.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice a little unsteady.

“Hi yourself, sweetheart,” I say, brushing my thumb over her cheekbone. “Are you ready to get out of this heat?”

She nods, her smile finally breaking free in its full, radiant glory. “More than ready. We’ve already got our bags packed. Take me home.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice.

I sling my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. Kallie immediately loops her arm through Zaria’s free one, chattering about the party we’re going to throw once we get back to Montana. It’ll be a big blast if she has any control of planning it. Lots of alcohol.

I don’t even want to think about it.

As I lead the two most important women in my life—my family—through the crowd, the desert heat doesn’t feel quite so oppressive anymore. It just feels like warmth.

Thankfully, I don’t think any of us are going to miss the heat here. The sooner we can get on our flight, the sooner we can start our future.