Page 70 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Her eyes light up, just like I knew they would. There are two things guaranteed to get Tia on board with anything: endless orgasms and rides on my bike. Lucky for her, I can give her both. Happily. On repeat.

“Shower first, then food. Then we’ll see about this little surprise.”

Oh, if she only knew how not little the surprise is.

“T,” I warn, rising to my feet. “If we shower, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands to myself.”

She slides out of bed like a goddess, standing in all her naked glory. As she passes, she drags her hand across my chest, then down, gripping my growing cock with a wicked grin.

“That’s kind of the point, Lo,” she purrs into my ear.

Goddamn minx. I swear.

Heat blasts through me like a detonation. In a flash, I lift her into my arms, her laugh echoing off the walls as I carry her toward the shower. I kiss her the whole way there, knowing exactly what my woman wants.

And I plan to give it to her over and over again.

By the time we’ve worked up a second appetite in the shower and devoured the impressive breakfast spread Audrey set up for us, the sky outside is bright, full daylight.

Tia laces up her boots, eyeing me with that sharp curiosity she always wears when she knows I’m up to something. I grab our helmets, slipping hers over her head.

“You ready?” I ask.

Her lips tug into a smirk. “For the ride? Always. For the surprise?” She narrows her eyes playfully. “Still not over how vague you’re being.”

“That’s the point, baby,” I say, tossing her a wink. “C’mon. You’ll want to see it in person.”

I pair music to our helmets, and like a funny nod of fate, “Stand By Me” is the first song to hit my shuffle. My song for Tia. The ringtone I’ve had for her since freshman year.

Tia chuckles in recognition as I fire up the bike, holding me tight as she sings the lyrics like she’s done a million times. I sing along with her, because the meaning of those words runs deeper now than they ever did.

This is the woman who’s going to stand by me for the rest of my days.

I’m a lucky son of a bitch.

It’s a beautiful morning for a ride. The green of the valleys shine beneath the sun’s rays. The winding roads are quiet as we lean together through every turn. The air hums with the scent of morning dew and Tia’s citrus shampoo on the breeze. It smells like home.

I rest one hand over hers, weaving our fingers together as we get closer to our destination. Tia squeezes my hand tighter when I think she’s recognizing the turns. I hear her breath hitch through my helmet speaker, and a slow smile spreads across my face.

I pass through the familiar steel gate, the same one we’ve ridden through a hundred times in the years we’ve known each other. But today, everything feels different.

At the top of the hill is our most sacred place.

Torren’s spot.

The bike slows as we crest the hill. I ease the brakes, kill the engine, and kick down the stand. Tia says nothing. She pulls off her helmet, her eyes fixed ahead, frozen by the sight before her.

I look at her first with wind-tossed hair, hazel eyes lit with something between wonder and disbelief. I lean back on the seat, crossing my arms, watching her take it in.

“Do you want to explain that?” she asks, her voice shaking slightly as she points toward the clearing—now wide open. The trees and wild brush are gone, the land flattened and framed with neon orange flags. Just past it, the dock and lake gleam in the early sun.

I push off my bike, stepping behind her. My arms wrap around her waist, my chin resting on her shoulder as I breathe her in, everything familiar anchoring me in this surreal moment.

Love never made sense to me. Not growing up. Not with the example I had. It felt like a fairy tale meant for someone else, not for the kid who learned early how to keep his heart locked tight.

But then there was Tia.

Our friendship was always the one thing I never questioned. Even during the years apart, when life pushed us into different corners of the country, her belief in me never faded. That belief became the backbone of everything I built. Of the man I became.

I look down at the dirt clearing staked with neon orange flags, the outline of our future taking shape. The dock we’ve always known glows beneath the sun. The trees that have seen us grow frame the view like a promise.

I’ve spent my career designing other people’s dreams. Families. Retirees. New beginnings. Homes full of futures that weren’t mine.

But this —this patch of earth right here—is mine.

And the woman in my arms?

She’s always been the dream.

“That down there is a promise, T.”

“Logan …” Her voice catches, and I tighten my hold around her, feeling her emotion fold into mine.

I kiss her shoulder, then her cheek, and rest my lips against her temple as I whisper, “I promise to always protect you. To be the man you deserve. To give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. I’ll build it with my bare hands until they bleed.”

She holds my arms closer, lacing our fingers together, her head resting against mine.

“That down there, baby?” I murmur, my voice low against her cheek, nodding toward the clearing, “That’s where I’m going to attempt to cook for you, even though I’m shit in the kitchen.”

Tia laughs through fresh tears, wiping her face with the back of her hand, her eyes locked on the land like she’s already imagining the life we’ll build on it.

“It’s where I’ll come back after long days, just to lay my head in your lap and hear about yours. It’s where I’ll make love to you in every corner, on every surface, until we can’t breathe—and then do it all over again.”

I swallow the emotions crawling up my throat, feeling Tia’s wet tears stick against my cheek as I continue painting the perfect picture.

“It’s where I’ll walk through the front door day after day, knowing I’ll be coming home to my wife. It’s where at least four rooms will belong to our beautiful babies that I’ll put in you, because one isn’t enough, and four seems like a good number, right?”

Tia nods, her smile bright and tear-streaked.

“Four is perfect,” she says, her voice breaking with joy. “How did you make this happen?”

“Mr. Torren’s lawyer called after his passing. He had no heirs—no kids, no living siblings. Said he wanted to gift me four acres as a thank you for loving this place like he did,” I say gently.

If only Mr. Torren knew what this place really gave me.

“Donovan helped with the county paperwork. Roy hooked me up with a builder out of San Francisco. I had the plans drawn up a long time ago. I just didn’t know where you’d land—whether it was Texas, Colorado, Montana or California. And I wasn’t going to break ground until I knew.”

I turn her to face me, brushing the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.

“Every line I sketched, every detail I mapped out … it was always for you. Always with you in mind. I just didn’t know it yet.” I press my lips to hers, gentle and full of promise. “It’s ours, baby. I want to build this life with you.”

Tia holds my wrists, looking from me to the clearing and back again, her heart written across her face.

“You were going to follow me even if I wanted to live off-grid in Montana?” Logan’s chuckle warms my skin, weaving through me with nothing but love.

“Don’t you know by now I’d follow you anywhere, T?”

I do. I know.

“Can we go see it?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

We link fingers, walking down the hill toward the dock. The lake reflects the morning sun, the water still and endless. We stand in the same spot we met all those years ago, soaking in the quiet that says everything.

It used to be the place we escaped to. And now?

It’s the place we’re running toward —where we’ll grow roots, build walls, and fill them with life.

Tia glances back at the clearing behind us.

“I love it,” she says softly. “It’s perfect, Logan.”

I cradle her face in my hands, noses brushing, her hazel gaze burning into mine.

“Will you do this with me, baby? Will you build this life with me?”

“Well,” Tia sighs, “I kinda have to now. You may be a brilliant architect, but your interior design skills are shit—just like your cooking.”

“Goddamn minx,” I mutter, grinning before crashing my lips to hers in a fervent kiss, swallowing her melodic laugh as it spills between us. She’s breathing new life into me all over again.

I’ll take everything she gives me.

Every laugh. Every memory. Every broken, beautiful, wild part of her.

And I’ll run with it, straight into the life we’re building.

Together, right here.

Back in the valley where we belong.