Page 19 of Mountain Man's Redemption

I lean in to kiss her sweet lips, tasting cherry pie on my tongue as she kisses me back. Every time feels just like the first—the same adrenaline, the same rush. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Daphne’s eyes flicker open as we pull apart, and when she smiles at me, my heart jumps into my throat.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” I tell her, breathing hard.

It’s the first time I’ve said it, but not the first time I’ve thought it. I fell in love with this angel the moment I saw her in the bakery, and since then, my feelings have only gotten stronger.

“I love you, too, Garrett.” She beams at me, her eyes sparkling, and I can’t believe she’s really mine. I never imagined I could be this happy. Hell, after the life I’ve lived, I never thought I deserved happiness. I let my past consume me, the darkness burying its claws deep, making me feel like a monster.

But Daphne has changed all that.

She sees beneath my past, beneath my bad reputation and the rumors that follow me. She makes me want to be a better man, and for her, I will be. After all these years of isolating myself, first in prison and then in the woods, I never imagined the woman of my dreams was out there somewhere. Now I’ve found her, and I’m never letting her go.

EPILOGUE

DAPHNE

I sweepmy brush over the canvas, adding a swirl of dark purple to the water of the lake. It glitters in front of me in the afternoon sun, vividly blue, surrounded by towering pine trees. The lake is one of my favorite parts of the forest, and it’s only five minutes from the cabin, but I’ve never painted it before. The nature around here is so beautiful, from the mountains to the rivers, that I’m spoiled for choice for my landscape paintings.

After two years in Cherry Hollow, my career is slowly beginning to take off. I sell most of my art at the local gallery, usually to rich tourists looking for a memento or local businesses who want paintings of the town on their walls. I also have a website, and I’m receiving more commissions than ever, which allows me to paint full time. It’s a dream come true, and I owe it all to Garrett. He supported us both, selling firewood and handmade furniture while I got my career off the ground, holding my hand through the months when I didn’t sell a single painting. But now my work is finally paying off, and I couldn’t be happier.

It’s one of the many ways life has changed since I met my husband. We moved in together straight away, and I never went back to my tiny apartment above the pizzeria. When Ifirst rented it after leaving Iowa, I felt so lost and desperate. I didn’t think I’d ever feel at home in Cherry Hollow, but now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Plainville feels so far away from me now, and all the gossip and the whispers have stopped playing over in my mind.

My parents didn’t escape the scandal unscathed. My dad was sentenced to five years in prison, but they released him early for good behavior. Mom didn’t face any time inside, but she fled Plainville and filed for divorce. I don’t hear from either of them much these days. Despite our perfect family image, we were never that close. My parents were always so obsessed with status and appearance, and after everything that has happened, the distance between us has only grown. Something tells me they wouldn’t approve of my husband, or my new life, living in a log cabin and working as an artist. But I don’t care what they think. Garrett and I are happy, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, sugar.”

My husband’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn my head, smiling as he strides through the trees toward me. Garrett looks sexier than ever, his beard streaked with silver, the lines more pronounced on his rugged face. His eyes turn molten when I meet his gaze, and my heart flutters when he smiles at me beneath his beard. Happiness suits him.

“I bought you a pie from town,” he says, holding up a familiar box from Buttercup Bakery. “You said you were craving it.”

“God, what did I do to deserve you?”

Pregnancy cravings have been kicking my butt, and I go crazy for anything sweet, especially cherry pie. When I moved here, I thought this town’s cherry pie obsession was kind of over the top, but now I understand it completely. Nothing beats a warm, flaky slice with vanilla ice cream.

“How’s the painting going?” Garrett asks, leaning down to rest a hand on my swollen belly. “Looks beautiful so far. Love this spot.”

“Me too. I thought we could keep this one for ourselves.”

Garrett hums appreciatively. “Perfect. I love having your art around the house, sugar.” He presses a kiss on my cheek and straightens up, looking at me with a glint in his eye. “By the way, guess who I saw in town?”

“Who?”

“Rita.”

My mouth drops open. “Seriously? I thought she moved to Denver.”

Garrett nods. “She did. I think she’s just visiting someone. Couldn’t meet my eye when she saw me in the bakery.”

I can’t help feeling a twinge of satisfaction. A few months after my confrontation in the parking lot with Rita, her big secret was finally exposed. Turns out she was behind a series of letters sent to people all over town, unsigned hate mail directed at everyone she didn’t like…which was pretty much every person in Cherry Hollow. She was caught out when somebody compared the handwriting to a Christmas card they’d received from her, and the discovery spread like wildfire through the town. Soon after, Rita left for good and moved to Denver to live with her daughter.

Thank you, karma.

Fortunately, most people in this town are kind. Neighborly. It’s a friendly little corner of Colorado, and people like Rita are the minority. After her letters were exposed, the other local busybodies became a lot less brazen. It forced them to think about their behavior, and I think the whole ordeal did the town a lot of good. But even if Rita had stayed, people like her don’t seem to affect Garrett anymore. He holds his head up high when we are in town together, not giving a damn what anybodythinks. When I think back to how he looked in the bakery when I first saw him, all hunched up and avoiding eye contact, it’s like remembering a different person. After torturing himself for so many years, Garrett has finally accepted his past, and it doesn’t seem to have such a hold on him anymore. He has made his peace.

“Did you say anything to her?” I ask.

Garrett shakes his head. “She isn’t worth it. Who gives a shit what she thinks, anyway?”

“Amen to that.”

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