Page 20 of Branded Mountain Man
Colt was quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving her face. "I've been thinking about what you said. About Marcus. About what he'd want."
"And?"
"And I think he'd want me to stop being such a stubborn asshole."
Despite everything, Sloan felt her mouth curve into a smile. "That's a start."
"I built you something," Colt said, gesturing toward the cabin. "Thought maybe... if you ever wanted to come back..."
He trailed off, uncertainty creeping into his expression. Like he was suddenly realizing how presumptuous it was to build someone a home without asking first.
Sloan walked closer, taking in the careful craftsmanship, the attention to detail. "It's beautiful."
"It's not finished. Needs insulation, proper plumbing, about a dozen other things." Colt was talking faster now, nervous energy spilling out of him. "But the bones are good. Solid. Built to last."
"Built for two people."
"Yeah." He met her eyes, and she saw the question there. The hope he was trying not to show. "Built for two people."
Nash appeared on the cabin threshold three days later like he'd materialized from the forest itself. Colt tensed, old instincts kicking in, until he saw the familiar weathered face.
"About time you came down from that tower," Nash said, taking in the cabin construction, the obvious signs of life being built for two.
"Nash." Colt's voice was carefully neutral.
"Heard you had company. Thought I should meet the woman who got Colt Ramsey to rejoin the living."
Sloan appeared from inside, flour in her hair, completely at ease. "You must be Nash. I've heard about you."
Nash's eyes crinkled. "All bad, I hope."
"Mostly." Sloan grinned. "Coffee?"
"Don't mind if I do."
When they were alone on the porch, Nash got serious. "Crew misses you. Trail work's not the same without someone who actually gives a damn about craftsmanship."
"I'm not ready?—"
"Didn't say you were. But when you are..." Nash looked around the cabin. "Building things that last. That's what you do, Colt. Always has been."
"Even after what happened?"
"Especially after. Marcus would've kicked your ass for hiding up here this long."
Colt's jaw tightened, but Nash wasn't wrong.
"Think about it," Nash said, standing. "Trail work starts up again in spring. Could use someone to teach the new guys how to build things right instead of fast."
Sloan reached out and traced the carved mountain symbol with her fingertip, the same reverent touch she'd used on his brand that first night. Something about the parallel felt right—both marks carved by trauma, both transformed into something that could mean home.
"How long have you been working on this?"
"Since the day you left."
"Two weeks."
"Two weeks, three days, and about sixteen hours." Colt's mouth quirked into something that wasn't quite a smile. "But who's counting?"
