Page 113 of Rocky Top

I should’ve known he was up to something the second he showed up on my porch the next morning, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Rise and shine, Sunshine,” Rocky said, his voice low and smug, like it always was when he had a secret. He leaned on the doorframe, wearing his leather jacket, hiding his sinfully carved chest, and a duffel bag at his feet.

It was barely past sunrise.

I squinted at him. “You better have coffee in that bag, or you’re about to see a side of me that ain’t so sunshine.”

He chuckled, reached into the bag, and handed me a travel mug. “Trust me, Birdie Mae, today’s worth waking up early for.”

I took a sip. Hazelnut, hot and sweet, just how I liked it, and narrowed my eyes. “What are we doing? If this is some kind of surprise snake hunting thing, I swear to God…”

He stepped close, kissed me full on the mouth before I could finish that threat, and when he pulled back, he whispered against my lips, “Put on something warm. And bring your boots.”

He had that look again, like he was about to steal the damn moon outta the sky and hand it to me in a mason jar.

Twenty minutes later, we were riding on his Harley, cutting through the quiet back roads that curved like veins through Knoxville. stewed in the mystery like he hadn’t just hijacked my morning.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” I asked at a stop.

“Nope.”

“Is this a date?”

“Could be.”

“Do I need a weapon?”

He smirked. “Only if you plan on breaking my heart.”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks went hot. He was impossible. And irresistible. And mine.

Eventually, he pulled off the road and into a tiny private airfield I recognized from forever ago. The one where he worked flying tourists over the Smokies.

“Oh,” I said, breath catching. “You’re taking me up?”

He climbed out of the truck and came around to open my door, offering me his hand.

“I ain’t dressed for romance,” I said, glancing down at my jeans and hoodie.

He slid his sunglasses on. “You’re always dressed for romance.”

The man was amenace.

Inside the chopper, he handed me a headset, and soon we were lifting off, the world falling away beneath us. The snow-covered trees turned to white waves, the roads to threads of silver ribbon. I clutched the straps, not because I was scared, but because the beauty of it all knocked the air clean outta my chest.

“You okay?” Rocky asked in my ear.

“Better than okay.”

We flew higher, the sky stretching out in every direction, clouds like cotton candy, the peaks of the mountains rolling under us like the backs of sleeping giants. Tennessee was so beautiful like this, wild, raw, untamed. Just like him.

After maybe ten minutes, he began to descend toward a rocky outcrop at the very top of one of the highest peaks. One I didn’t even know had a name. The chopper touched down on a flat stretch of land that looked like it belonged in a postcard. No buildings. No cell towers. Just mountain air and the whole damn world laid out below.

Rocky killed the engine, pulled off his headset, and turned to me.

“Come on,” he said. “This is the part you won’t forget.”

I followed him out, boots crunching over gravel and patches of snow, and when I turned around to look at the view, my heart stopped.

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