Page 90 of Grumpy on the Mountain

"Of course." She rises on her toes to kiss my jaw. "I love you, you paranoid mountain man."

"Love you too."

"Ready for surprise number one?" I ask as I lead her unknowingly out the gate and toward the auto shop, Molly's hand warm in mine.

"There's more than one surprise?" She laughs, swinging our joined hands between us. "The treehouse wasn't enough?"

"That was for Maisie. This one's for you."

Johnson's Auto looks the same as always from the outside—weathered building, ancient signage, the kind of place that's been fixing cars since before I was born.

But inside the bay, covered by a tarp like a prize at a car show, sits my real surprise.

"Johnson!" I call out. "She ready?"

The old mechanic appears from beneath the hood of a pickup, wiping his hands on a rag that's seen better days. "Been ready since yesterday, old boy. Just waiting on you."

He walks to the covered car and grabs one corner of the tarp. "You want to do the honors?"

I shake my head. "Let her see it."

Johnson whips away the tarp with theatrical flair, and Molly's gasp echoes through the garage.

Her car sits gleaming under the fluorescent lights, but it's not the same vehicle that limped into town three weeks ago.

The dents have been hammered out and the paint refreshed to a deep, rich blue that makes the whole car look like it just rolled off the lot. The interior has been completely redone—new upholstery, new carpeting, everything clean and fresh and perfect.

"Beau..." she breathes, walking around the car like she's afraid to touch it. "This isn't just an engine repair."

"Figured if you're staying in the mountains, you should have reliable transportation." I run my hand along the hood, remembering the conversations I had with Johnson about materials, colors, timeline. "She'll handle these roads now. New gearbox and tires, upgraded suspension, the works."

"You had them restore the entire car?"

"Maybe."

She spins to face me, eyes bright with tears. "Beau! This must have cost a fortune."

"It's an investment," I say simply. "In your safety. In your independence."

"Beau, I can't—"

"You can, and you will." I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. "You deserve beautiful things, Molly. You deserve to feel safe and taken care of."

"I already feel safe. With you."

The simple declaration hits me harder than it should. She feels safe with me. After everything she's been through, everything that bastard put her through, she trusts me to keep her safe.

That's something I'll never take for granted.Never.

"Good," I say roughly. "That's the point."

"Though I have to admit," she says, a grin tugging at her lips, "I'm going to miss our daily drives to work. That was my favorite part of the day."

Something warm and possessive unfurls in my chest. "Mine too."

"Maybe we should trade," she suggests playfully. "I'll take your massive truck to work, and you can drive my cute little car around town. Really embrace that mountain man aesthetic."

The image of my six-foot-four frame folded into her car makes me snort. "I'd look ridiculous."