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I woke up to the distinct sensation of being poked in the face.
Not hard—none of Biscuit’s usual death-from-above tactics—but a soft, deliberate press of a tiny paw against my cheek. Tap. Tap. Like a tiny, very insistent drum.
I groaned and burrowed deeper into the pillow. “It’s your daddy’s turn to fix breakfast. Go wake him up.”
From the other side of the bed came a low chuckle, warm and smug in the dark. “She’s already eaten. Wake up, sleepyhead. I have a surprise for you.”
My eyes cracked open enough to confirm two things: one, Ramsey was grinning like the cat who’d stolen an entire creamery; and two, it was still pitch black outside. Not dawn-dark. Middle-of-the-night dark.
“What time is it?” I croaked.
“Time for you to get dressed.” When I made no effort to do anything but glare at him, he held out a travel mug like a bar of Godiva on a stick. “I have coffee.”
Damn him. He knew that was my kryptonite. Biscuit gave another poke, like she agreed with him. Traitor.
With a groan that came from the depths of my soul, I peeled myself out from under the covers and stumbled toward the closet. Fine. I’d accept the bribe.
The house was quiet as I got myself together. We were in Gibson Hollow, staying at the place Ramsey had bought from Miss Evette in those months after the flood. It wasn’t the old pieced-together mess it had been when he bought it. He’d gutted it, made it a home again—cozy and warm, with that attic expansion he’d been so proud of. It had become our home base here, though we spent the bulk of our year in Charleston these days.
I dragged on leggings, a hoodie, and boots, and called it good. No makeup, no effort. Anyone who scheduled surprises for this hour didn’t get glamour.
Biscuit, smug and satisfied that her mission was accomplished, got scooped up like the tiny fuzzy loaf she was. In my other hand, Ramsey deposited a to-go mug of hot, caffeinated salvation. Only then, fortified with caffeine and dog, did I feel even vaguely prepared to face whatever this sneaky man was up to.
Ramsey jingled his keys in that way that meant he was both smug and in a hurry. I followed him out to the truck, Biscuit still under one arm like my emotional support baguette, my coffee clutched like a lifeline in the other.
The world still held its breath. That hush that came before dawn, when the night creatures had gone to ground and even the birds hadn’t decided it worth waking up yet. Our boots crunched softly on the gravel, and the faint beam of the porch light barely pushed back the dark.
I slid into the passenger seat and curled up sideways so Biscuit could stretch out in my lap. She immediately flopped over, boneless, her tiny paws in the air like she hadn’t been the reason I was awake at this ungodly hour.
Ramsey started the engine, the rumble low and even as he backed out onto the road. “Drink up.” He nodded to my to-go mug like he hadn’t already single-handedly saved his own life with it.
I took a sip and sighed. “This surprise better be good.”
“You’ll see.”
That was all he gave me. No hints. Just the slow roll of the truck through quiet streets, then out past the edge of town where the trees started crowding in.
We climbed higher, up winding mountain roads I’d known my whole life, the kind where you felt the curves as much as saw them. Headlights cut through the dark, catching the edges of early-turning leaves, flashes of red and gold against shadow.
By the time he pulled off at a narrow gravel turnout near the top of a ridge, the coffee had begun to kick in, and I noticed how awake he was. Like sunrise hikes were normal people behavior.
“This is suspicious,” I said as he killed the engine.
“You’ll survive.” He grinned as he swung out of the truck, grabbing a hiking pack from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder like we weren’t about to freeze to death.
I eyed his boots, then looked down at my own. “I am not dressed for a hike, Ramsey Shaw.”
“It’s not far.” His demeanor was entirely too cheerful for this hour. “And Biscuit’s coming too, so you know it’s easy.”
Biscuit, to her eternal disloyalty, perked right up, tail wagging like she was all in on whatever this was.
With a long-suffering sigh, I tucked her under my arm again and followed him up a narrow path.
The crisp air carried the faint scent of pine and damp earth that always made me think of home. The leaves had begun to blush at the edges, a few of them spiraling lazily down when the breeze caught them.
Fall in North Carolina was one of my favorite things, a slow burn of color and cool air before winter set in. I usually missed most of it now, holed up in Charleston for football season, but we’d caught a rare break in the schedule.
And even with the chill biting at my nose and my fingers wrapped around rapidly cooling coffee, I loved it.
I loved all of it.
The trail wound upward in a gentle slope. Not the kind that made my thighs burn, but enough to make me question why I’d agreed to be awake before the sun.
I adjusted Biscuit so she could peek out of the crook of my arm like a tiny, judgmental lookout. “This had better involve pancakes.”
Maddeningly sure of himself, my husband insisted, “This is better than pancakes.”
I narrowed my eyes at his back and kept climbing. My ideas of what was better than pancakes did not involve being out in nature before the ass crack of dawn.
Half a mile in, the trees started to thin, the world opening up in front of us. The ridge flattened out into a ledge that seemed like it hung over the whole Hollow. Even in the gray before sunrise, I saw layers of mountains fading into misty blue, the sky beginning to think about turning pink at the edges. Once the mist burned off, we’d be able to see for miles.
On the bare stretch of grass at the top, he stopped.
“This’ll do.” He dropped the hiking pack and crouched to unzip it.
I blinked at him. “This is why you dragged me out of bed?”
He ignored me in favor of pulling out a blanket and spreading it with brisk, practiced movements, weighing the corners down with a couple of thermoses and a folded jacket. Then came a container of cut fruit, a paper sack that smelled suspiciously like fresh biscuits from Big Wade, and another of fried chicken that had no business smelling that good this early in the morning.
Something melted in my chest with my realization. “You packed a picnic.” I lowered myself to the blanket. Biscuit hopped into my lap, clearly invested in the prospect of chicken. “For sunrise?”
“You mentioned a picnic breakfast once, as the good end of the surprise spectrum.” He opened one of the thermoses and poured out more coffee for me. “Seemed like a good time to pull it out.”
I took the cup from him, wrapping my hands around it, and blinked hard against a sting I hadn’t seen coming.
“This is the most ridiculous, romantic thing you’ve ever done.”
“Even more than the Soren armor?”
I paused. “Well, yes. Because there’s nothing at all ridiculous about that.”
With a smug grin, he split a biscuit and piled some still steaming chicken on top. “Well, I’m sure I’ll top it someday.”
We ate. Warm, buttery chicken biscuits with honey and fruit. Biscuit got a tiny pinch of chicken for her trouble and settled herself like a tiny queen between us.
And as the horizon lightened, I found myself just… breathing.
Pink spread slowly across the edge of the world, deepening into orange and gold, painting the mountains in silhouette. A warmth crept into the cool morning air.
It was quiet up here. Peaceful in a way I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.
I leaned against his shoulder, letting my head rest there as I watched the sky change. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” I whispered after a long stretch of quiet.
His hand found mine on the blanket, fingers threading through.
“I mean it.” I turned to look at him. “I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”
He squeezed my hand, lips brushing the side of my hair. “I love you back.”
I’d have happily stayed like that forever, wrapped in the smell of him and the soft press of Biscuit against my thigh, the whole world unfolding in color around us.
I wiped a smear of honey from my thumb with the edge of a napkin and sighed like the fully caffeinated, spoiled woman I was. “This was a really nice surprise.”
Ramsey turned a grin on me that had enough mischief to make me suspicious. Blair had a face like that. Apparently, it was contagious.
“This wasn’t the surprise.”
My brows pulled together. “It’s not?”
“Nope.”
He nodded past me, toward the far side of the ridge. “The surprise is over there.”
I twisted where I sat, looking out over the sweep of trees and ridgelines. At first, all I saw were long blue shadows and the soft blur of mist curling through the valley. Then something caught—a glint, like the sun had found a mirror.
I narrowed my eyes, squinting. And then, as the light climbed higher, more of it revealed itself. Angles where there’d been none. The warm, honeyed gleam of new wood. A reflection that could only be glass.
A house.
On a stretch of land I knew as well as my own backyard. A place that had always been nothing but open ridge and trees.
“What am I looking at?”
Ramsey’s voice was easy, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Home. Complete with a deck that overlooks the Hollow, a hot tub, a chef’s kitchen, and a library that’s going to keep me laid until we’re ninety-five.”
I whipped around so fast Biscuit huffed at me. “You built me a house?”
“And a library. Well,” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug that wasn’t nearly as casual as he was trying to pretend, “I had it built. With the season, I didn’t have as much time to put into it myself as I wanted. But I didn’t want to wait until I retired. You deserve this now.”
My mouth opened. Closed. For once in my life, I had no words.
“You want a tour?” he asked, all calm like he hadn’t just tilted my entire world on its axis.
“Hell yes, I do!”
Ramsey packed up the picnic like he’d been waiting on that exact answer, tucking containers and coffee thermoses back into the hiking pack with the same unhurried efficiency he used to load a game bag. Biscuit supervised from my lap, her little head swiveling between us like she couldn’t believe he’d managed to outmaneuver her morning cuddle schedule.
“Come on.” He offered me a hand up. “It’s not far.”
A few minutes later we were back in the truck, bumping along a narrow gravel lane I’d never noticed before. It wound around the curve of the ridge, trees parting to give teasing flashes of what was ahead. My pulse climbed higher with every turn until we rounded the last bend, and there it was.
The house.
Not just any house.
It rose out of the ridge like it had been waiting there for us all along—a perfect marriage of modern and mountain, all clean lines softened by warm wood and stone. The whole front was glass, a wall of windows catching the morning light and reflecting it back in gold.
A wide wraparound deck hugged the house like an invitation: sit here. Watch everything. Never miss a sunset again.
I couldn’t look away.
“You built this.” It came out in a whisper.
He parked in front of a wide set of stone steps, hopped out, and came around to open my door. I tucked Biscuit under my arm again and followed him up to the door, my boots scuffing against smooth planks as he swung it open.
The living room opened up in a flood of light, all that glass and those vaulted ceilings making it seem like the mountains had been invited inside. Thick beams crisscrossed overhead, warm and solid, and a massive river-rock fireplace anchored the far wall. It was a fireplace that begged for winter nights and entire logs. Big enough that my whole family could sit around it without elbowing each other in the ribs.
I set Biscuit down, and her tiny nails clicked across the wood floors, little tail a metronome of pure joy as she started her inspection.
The kitchen sat wide-open to the living room, a chef’s dream with a big center island, double ovens, and enough counter space to make my food-loving Sasspatches weep. Clean modern lines but softened with wood shelving instead of cabinets, deep farmhouse sinks, and light fixtures that looked like something salvaged from an old barn.
He walked me down a short hall next, stopping at a set of double doors that opened into a primary suite that honestly could’ve been in a resort. Wide windows, a bed so big it would swallow us whole, and a bathroom that made me want to dive face-first into the deep soaking tub. It was luxurious but still somehow managed to feel as if it had been built to be lived in, not looked at.
And then he saved the best for last.
“This one,” Ramsey said, hand on the next door, “is yours.”
He swung it open, and I swear I forgot how to breathe.
Two stories of bookshelves rose like cathedral walls, sunlight spilling through massive windows that overlooked the valley. There was a rolling ladder—the kind I’d only ever seen in movies—and it tracked all the way around the room. And in front of those windows sat a massive desk, positioned like it belonged there, looking out over the world.
“This is…” I couldn’t even find the word.
“Your office,” he said, but it was more than that.
It was a library. A dream. And it was mine.
I turned slowly from the window, my heart thudding in my chest like it was trying to make room for everything I was feeling. This house. This room. Him.
For a long second, I looked at that stupidly proud grin on his face and tried not to burst into tears like a fool. And then, because there was no keeping it in, I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
“You,” I said, crossing my arms and tilting my head at him, “are absolutely right.”
His brows went up, teasing. “About which part?”
“About this getting you laid until we’re ninety-five or our hips give out—whichever comes first.” I tipped my chin toward the enormous desk behind me. “And I think we should start right here, right now. Because that desk is never going to be not covered with stuff again, and as much as I love the idea of sweeping it all off in a big dramatic flourish, my organized soul will not allow me to do that. And I really, really want you to make love to me on it.”
His grin shifted, slow and wicked, the way it always did right before he ruined me.
And then he bowed. A slow, deep, perfectly formal bow, exactly like Soren would have done in one of my books.
“As you wish, my lady.”
Biscuit, wise little creature that she was, scampered out the door as he straightened and started walking toward me with that intent in his eyes that melted every last bit of composure I had.
My breath hitched as my back met the edge of the desk.
And then his mouth was on mine, all heat and promise, and the rest of the world—the house, the valley, everything—fell away until there was only us, right where we were meant to be.
* * *
I hope you enjoyed seeing Alia and Ramsey (and of course, the adorable Biscuit) again! Don’t miss out on Bodie’s book, Hero, Unexpected, coming November 14th.