Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Q uinn

I wake to the soft glow of morning light streaming through the observatory windows. Ridge may not know it, but his little hideaway is a dream come true for someone like me—a haven for stargazers and lovers of the wild. I stretch, the borrowed flannel shirt I wore to bed sliding against my skin. It smells like him—wood smoke, leather, and something distinctly male.

The man himself stomps into the kitchen then, his expression as stormy as the mountain sky before a blizzard. He’s already brooding, coffee in hand, his broad shoulders tense beneath a gray thermal shirt.

“You’re still here,” he grumbles, glancing at me like I’m some unsolvable equation.

“Good morning to you, too.” I flash a smile and pour myself a cup of coffee.

“And you’re wearing one of my flannels. My favorite flannel, actually.”

“Hope you don’t mind.” I add a sugary sweetness to the last part, knowing full well he’d rather I be halfway down the mountain by now.

His scowl deepens, and I can’t help but enjoy the way he glares at me. He’s like a bear woken too early from hibernation—gruff, growly, and oddly endearing.

“You’re Quinn Stevens–I realized it last night while I was lying in bed wondering what the hell to do with you,” he states flatly, like he’s still wrapping his head around it.

I arch one eyebrow, taking in his grumpy features.

“I can’t believe Grady’s little sister answered a mail-order-bride ad.”

“Not so little anymore.” I take a sip of coffee, meeting his gaze over the rim of the mug. “I’m twenty-four, in case you’re keeping track. I just graduated from Colorado State, actually.”

“Well—aren’t you asking for trouble. I hate to break it to you but twenty-four is still a decade too young to be mixed up with this family.”

I set the mug down, leaning against the counter. “Don’t worry, Ridge. I’m not looking to ‘mix myself up’ with anyone. I’m here for the stars, not you.”

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t bite. I hide my smirk behind another sip of coffee. Winding him up might just become my new favorite pastime.

“What did he say when you told him about this ridiculous little plan of yours?” He finally replies.

“He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m staying with a friend.”

Ridge’s eyes widen with surprise. “Well, shit just got a helluva lot more complicated. If he knew you were here with me– offering to be my bride –he’d skin us both alive.”

I laugh. “Listen, mountain man, I’ll get out of your hair just as soon as it’s safe. My brother will never be the wiser that this happened–as long as you can keep your mouth shut, that is.” My eyes land out the window to the snowdrifts building along the narrow driveway.

Ridge huffs, rinsing his coffee mug in the sink and then stalking out of the kitchen like an angry bear.

By noon, I’ve decided. Devil’s Peak is perfect for my research. The altitude, the clear skies, the lack of light pollution—it’s everything I’ve been searching for. Of course, Ridge is less than thrilled when I mention I’d like to stay a few more days for the sake of my research.

“This isn’t a bed-and-breakfast,” he grunts as I unpack my own small telescope. “And I’m not a tour guide.”

“Noted.” I set my telescope and notebook on the desk in the corner, deliberately ignoring his tone. “But don’t worry, I won’t be in your way. I’m here for the constellations. And maybe some snowboarding,” I add with a cheeky grin, glancing over my shoulder. “Devil’s Peak has some of the best hills in Colorado.”

His brows knit together, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of something other than annoyance in his eyes. Curiosity? Interest? Whatever it is, he shoves it aside with a shake of his head.

“Fine. Just stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.” I grin back at my new roommate.

An hour later I’m headed to the lodge, eager to see if the slopes live up to their reputation. I’ve been anxious to visit Devil’s Peak Lodge since Grady moved to Devil’s Peak a year ago but the timing never lined up. He doesn’t even like outdoor sports, but I live for them, escaping campus with my friends on the weekends to snowboard the fresh powder that The Rockies are known for. When I came to Devil’s Peak to stay with Grady, I only planned on staying a few weeks but that’s been six weeks ago now. Grady was happy to have me because he works all day in the woods as a lumberjack and his old sheepdog, Shep, was diagnosed with arthritis a few months ago and now has to stay at home all day while Grady works. I figured I could take care of Shep and Grady’s cabin all day and stargaze at night, but I quickly realized that my brother isn’t used to living with anyone and I couldn’t shake the sense that as much as he wanted me there–he was struggling with having someone else in his home all the time. That’s why, when I flipped through Grady’s copy of Mountain Living Magazine and saw the ad for a mail-order-bride on Devil’s Peak, I thought it’d be worth a shot. I love this mountain, but living with my brother had me feeling like an imposition even on the best of days. Also, if my thirty-eight-year-old unmarried brother has any chance of having a love life, he can’t have his sister as a roommate.

I suck in a quick breath when The Devil’s Peak Lodge comes into view. The air is crisp, the snow glistening under a sun so bright it makes my goggles necessary even before I hit the trails. I step into the rental shop, only to find Ridge leaning against the counter, chatting with a guy who looks like his twin—if his twin had a perpetual smirk and none of Ridge’s surliness.

“Quinn,” Ridge says, straightening when he sees me. His tone is neutral, but his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s trying to figure out why I’m here.

“Ridge,” I reply, matching his tone as I grab a snowboard from the rack. “Didn’t know you worked here.”

“I don’t. But I teach.” He glances at the guy next to him. “This is Slate, my brother.”

“Ah, another Warner brother.” I offer a smile, but Slate’s already grinning like he’s in on some inside joke.

“You must be the infamous mail-order bride,” Slate says, his tone dripping with amusement. Ridge shoots him a warning look, but Slate just laughs. “Don’t worry, big bro. She’s too pretty for you, anyway.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say dryly, strapping my boots into the bindings.

“Ridge, you taking her up?” Slate asks, nodding toward me.

Ridge hesitates, his jaw tightening. “She doesn’t need my help.”

“You sure about that?” I interject, sliding past them to head toward the lift. “I’ve been snowboarding since I was a kid. But hey, if you think you can keep up, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Slate snickers, but Ridge doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he follows me to the lift, his expression unreadable.

The first run is glorious. The powder is fresh, the trail weaving through pine trees and offering stunning views of the mountain. Ridge follows close behind, silent but watchful. When we reach the bottom, I can’t resist poking the bear.

“Not bad for a grumpy old man,” I tease, unstrapping my board.

“Grumpy, maybe,” he replies, his voice low and steady. “But old? Hardly.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine. There’s something about him—his quiet confidence, the way he doesn’t have to try to command attention. It’s infuriating and magnetic all at once.

“Care for another round?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.

“Think you can keep up?”

“Oh, Ridge,” I say, smirking. “The question is, can you?”

By the third run, the tension between us is almost tangible. I’m pushing myself harder than usual, partly to prove a point, partly because I don’t want to admit how much I enjoy having him near. Ridge, for all his gruffness, is an incredible snowboarder—effortless and precise, like he was born to carve through the snow.

At the bottom of the run, I catch him watching me, his expression unreadable. I raise a brow, feeling bolder than I should. “What? Surprised I didn’t faceplant?”

He shakes his head, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Just wondering what the hell you’re doing here.”

“Snowboarding,” I reply innocently. “What does it look like?”

“You know what I mean.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why answer the ad?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question—and the intensity in his eyes. My pulse quickens, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I was curious. Maybe I wanted a change. Or maybe...” I trail off, leaning in slightly. “I just wanted to see what kind of guy advertises for a bride.”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “And?”

I shrug, stepping back. “Still deciding.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of trails and teasing. By the time we return to the lodge, my legs are aching, but my mind is spinning. Ridge is a puzzle I can’t quite figure out—grumpy and guarded, but with a depth that draws me in.

“You coming back tomorrow?” he asks as we unstrap our boards outside the rental shop.

“Maybe.” I glance up at him, smirking. “If you’re lucky.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, but I catch the faintest hint of a smile before he turns away.

As I watch him walk off, I can’t help but feel like I’ve stumbled onto something more than just a mountain and a set of constellations. Ridge Warner may not know it yet, but he’s as much a part of this place as the stars above—and I’m not ready to leave just yet.