Page 114 of Rocky Top

It was endless.

Blue ridges stretched to the horizon, kissed by morning light, the haze of the Smokies soft around the edges like a dream. We werehigher than any overlook I’d ever seen, and the only sounds were the wind and my own heartbeat.

“Rocky,” I breathed. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

He came up behind me, slid his arms around my waist, and pressed his mouth to my ear. “Not yet.”

I turned, and he was already lowering to one knee.

My breath caught.

“Birdie Mae,” he said, pulling a carved wooden box from his jacket. “You know I ain’t much for speeches, but I’ve got something to say.”

I covered my mouth with my hands.

“You shot into my world like a damn firework,” he said, voice gruff and full of every bit of his heart. “With your loud mouth and your glittery hats and your sunny smile that made my whole goddamn soul wake up.”

The tears came hot and fast.

“You ain’t just my girl. You’re my mate. My better half. My reason. And I’m askin’ you to stay wild with me. To make a home with me—in the clubhouse, in the woods, in the sky—wherever the hell we end up. Will you marry me?”

He opened the box.

Inside was a ring unlike any I’d seen. A pale moonstone shimmered in the center, surrounded by silver vines and little carved wolves etched on the sides. Wild. Magical. Ours.

“Yes,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of him. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

He slid the ring on my finger, and I swear I felt the world shift.

“I love you, Rocky,” I whispered.

His arms wrapped around me, and his mouth met mine, fierce and sweet all at once.

And over the whole damn Smoky Mountains, we kissed like we’d earned it.

Rocky held me like I was something sacred, like saying yes made me holy in his arms.

We stayed there on the mountaintop, kneeling in the moss and morning dew, tangled up in each other like time didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe when you said yes to someone like him, a biker made of grit and growl and unshakable loyalty, the rest of the world fell away.

“Let me look at you,” he said, pulling back just enough to cup my face. His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek, but his own eyes were glassy too, all that steely biker bravado cracked open just for me. “Birdie Mae Foster… you’re gonna be my ol’ lady.”

The way he said it? Like he couldn’t quite believe it. Hell, neither could I.

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me now,” I teased, even as I choked on the words. “You’ll ruin your reputation.”

He snorted. “Too late for that. You’ve already made me soft.”

I smacked his chest. “You are not soft, Wolfman. You’re just house-trained now.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and Lord, that sound, deep, rich, real, was the kind of thing I’d bottle if I could. I’d keep it on a shelf and open it on rainy days.

Rocky stood and pulled me up with him, twirling me once like we were on a damn ballroom floor instead of a bald-ass mountain. Then he kissed me again, and this time it was slow, lingering. Promisin’.

“I got one more thing,” he said, leading me back to the chopper.

I eyed him suspiciously. “Another surprise?”

“Always.”

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