Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
I press a soft kiss to Lark’s temple, then one to Finn’s forehead, feeling the warmth of my son’s skin against my lips. “I’m the luckiest man in the Rockies,” I say quietly, my voice filled with a raw honesty I don’t usually let show. “The day I found you, Lark, I found myself.”
Lark’s eyes glisten, her lips curving into a smile that’s both tender and teasing.
“Is that right?” she asks, her voice filled with a mix of playfulness and emotion.
I nod, my voice dropping to a low, rough whisper. “And I’m not done, you know. I want to show you just how much I love you.” I lean closer, my breath hot against her ear. “Starting by putting another baby in that belly of yours.”
She lets out a soft, surprised laugh, swatting at my chest with one hand. “Hunter,” she says, her tone a mix of amusement and warning.
But there’s a flicker in her eyes—an undeniable heat that tells me she’s not entirely opposed to the idea. I feel a surge of possessive pride, the kind that makes me want to lay claim to her all over again, to build something even bigger, even stronger, with the woman who’s become my entire world.
“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice low and filled with promise. “Another baby. And maybe another one after that. I want to fill these mountains with our wild, free-spirited kids.”
Lark’s cheeks flush, but there’s a spark of mischief in her gaze. “And who says I’ll let you?”
I lean back, a slow grin spreading across my face.
“Because you want it as much as I do,” I say simply, my voice filled with certainty.
She lifts her chin, her expression defiant. “Maybe I do.”
I lower my head, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss that says everything I can’t put into words. She responds instantly, her mouth warm and welcoming, her free hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. The kiss deepens, filled with the same passion that’s always burned between us, a fire that refuses to die down.
When we finally pull back, both of us are breathing hard, our foreheads resting against each other. “I love you, Lark,” I say, my voice rough. “More than anything.”
“I love you too, Hunter,” she whispers back, her voice steady and sure.
I glance down at Finn, his tiny face still peaceful, unaware of the world he’s been born into. “And you, little man,” I murmur, my voice filled with affection. “You’re going to have one hell of a life up here.”
Lark rests her head against my shoulder, her eyes soft as she looks down at our son.
“We’re going to give him everything,” she says, her voice filled with a quiet determination.
I tighten my hold on her, feeling a fierce sense of protectiveness. “Damn right we are.”
Mom clears her throat, her eyes filled with a mix of happiness and nostalgia. “It’s good to see this,” she says quietly. “To see the next generation of Warners growing up on Devil’s Peak.”
Lark smiles, her eyes bright with gratitude. “We’ll make sure he knows where he comes from,” she promises. “And how much he’s loved.”
I watch as mom reaches out to take Finn’s tiny hand in hers, her expression filled with tenderness. “He’s a lucky boy,” she says softly. “He’s got parents who love each other, and a family that’s always here.”
Lark turns to me, her eyes shining. “We’ve got everything we need, don’t we?”
I lean down, kissing her again, slow and deep, savoring the moment. “Yeah, we do,” I murmur against her lips. “Everything.”
And as I hold my wife and son close, I know that this is where I’m meant to be—right here, on Devil’s Peak, surrounded by love, family, and the promise of a wild, beautiful future.
Third Epilogue
Lark–five years later
The air is crisp, filled with the clean scent of pine and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. The late afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled light over our campsite on the Phantom River. It’s our favorite spot—secluded, peaceful, and just wild enough to keep the kids entertained for hours.
I glance over at Hunter, standing at the edge of the river with a fishing rod in his hand, his broad shoulders relaxed, his stance steady. He’s the picture of calm confidence, a man who’s at home in the wilderness. I can’t help but smile. Even after all these years, the sight of him still makes my heart race.
Behind me, our three boys are a blur of movement and shouts, caught up in an intense game of cowboys and Indians. Branches snap, laughter echoes, and the occasional splash signals that someone has taken an unplanned dip in the river. I keep an eye on them, my heart a mix of worry and amusement.
And then there’s Abigail—our baby girl, our sweet surprise. She’s sprawled on a picnic blanket, one chubby hand grabbing at her toes as she coos happily. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s gnawing on her fingers, teething but determined to stay cheerful. I bend down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, inhaling her baby scent—milk, powder, and that undefinable sweetness that only babies have.