“You’re really staying?” She couldn’t repress a tremor in her voice.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

Forever.

Stories and promises could all come later—that night by the fire pit or curled up on her couch. Jonas found her. He left on his own accord, searched, and, somehow, miraculously found her. Nothing else mattered. “Thanks for the flowers.”

“Thanks for the muffin.”

“Oh gosh!” She glanced at the mangled pastry and let muffin crumbs rain among petals. “I have two dozen more in the kitchen.”

He embraced her again. “I’ve missed you.”

Her lips found his, and like an alpine primrose, she opened. She was rooted in confidence earned through a Rocky Mountain winter. She bloomed with desire that lay dormant since the spring.

With his hands still firm on the small of her back, he pulled away.

Crisply outlined against a cloudless sky, he met her gaze with unfettered passion—nothing held back.

“I love you, mei wildi ros.”

“I love you, too.” Ten thousand times since August, she whispered those words to a memory. To say them now kindled equal parts relief and joy. Closing her eyes, she basked in the warmth of that love. When she opened them again, she was blinded by a revelation as incandescent as fire from the sky.

That indefinable color of his eyes?

Colorado, summer-sky-blue.

Peeking beneath her lashes, she caught his hand and interlaced her fingers between his. “Do you want to come inside?”

His gaze darkened. “I do. But first, I want you to show me something.”

She honeyed her voice. “Anything.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. Lowering his lips to her ear, he took in a whispered breath. “Show me how that pop-top opens into a tent.”

Just like that, she was back in the front seat, cruising Route 45 with a drop-dead gorgeous Amish dude with insatiable curiosity and a lust for speed. Laughter bubbled inside. She rose onto tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, I’ll pop the top, all right.” She dashed toward the van, pausing only to toss a wink over one freckled shoulder. “But first? I’m teaching you to drive.”

A word about the author…

A word about the author…

Wendy Rich Stetson is a New York City girl who still considers the green ridges of Central Pennsylvania her home. She grew up watching the country roll by from the back of a 1979 VW camper van, and she keeps a running list of favorite roadside attractions from coast to coast. Now an author of clean and wholesome romance, Wendy is no stranger to storytelling. She’s a Broadway and television actress, an audiobook narrator, and a mom who enjoys little more than reading bedtime stories to her daughter. And cake. Wendy lives in Upper Manhattan with her family of three and Maine Coon kitty, Tessa.

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