Page 61 of Mountain Hero

Thomas is in jail. With all the charges against him, he’ll be in prison for decades.

It’s an impressive list—kidnapping, assault, robbery, burglary, attempted arson—and that’s not even taking into account the illegal weapons and drugs the police discovered when they searched him. And the guy whose car Thomas borrowed was more than happy to give up anything he knew in exchange for a reduced sentence as an accessory.

By the time he gets out, if the district attorney can be believed, Thomas will be an old man. He won’t be a threat to Winter anymore, although I’ll still be watching.

As long as he’s alive, I’ll never fully let down my guard. Not when it comes to Winter’s safety. Even if we aren’t together thirty years from now, I’ll be keeping tabs on Thomas.

I meant what I said to Winter yesterday. Anything she needs, I’m there.

What’s kind of crazy, though? The idea of being with Winter for that long doesn’t feel crazy at all. It feels kind of… right.

I can see it—the two of us sitting on the front porch, Winter reading one of her romance novels with a shirtless guy on the cover while I run through purchase orders for the store or check the news. And in the evenings, we’ll find our usual seats on the couch—right next to each other of course—and take turns picking a movie to watch.

There’s no way I’m mentioning any of this to Winter, though. Not when the L word hasn’t even come up yet.

I’m not bringing up growing old together when we haven’t even discussed our plans for a week from now.

Could I have ever imagined it? Feeling so sure about someone after such a short time?

Growing up, I wasn’t sold on the idea of marriage. After watching my mom struggle to do everything on her own, hearing her quietly crying in her bedroom when she thought I was sleeping… it was awfully hard to see the positives of linking myself to someone who would have the power to break me.

More recently, I’ve been a little more open to it. How could I not be, seeing how happy my friends are with their partners? It makes me believe a happy ending, like the ones Winter tells me about from her books, might actually be possible.

But I thought it would be a long, drawn-out thing—years of getting to know the right woman and figuring out if I could really trust her.

Then I met Winter.

There was something about her that caught me from the start. And having spent this time with her, seeing her at her most vulnerable and her strongest, I discovered something I wasn’t expecting.

When it’s the right person, you just know.

The question is, does Winter feel the same way?

Not that I’m going to propose; not now, at least. But it’s been two days since Thomas was arrested and I’m on pins and needles, anticipating the moment when Winter says she’s going back home.

It’s not like she needs to stay here anymore. Now that the danger’s passed, she can move back into that little house she loves so much and work on rebuilding the life Thomas ripped away from her.

Rationally, I know it makes sense. And it’s not like we can’t see each other, considering Winter will only be living ten minutes away. But selfishly? I don’t want her to leave. I want to keep having our coffee together every morning and talk about our days over dinner and fall asleep each night with her wrapped in my arms.

Is it even fair of me to ask her to stay when living on her own might be the best thing for her?

“Good morning.”

Winter comes into the kitchen, looking as beautiful as always—her hair dark and damply waving down around her shoulders, a long-sleeved V-neck that matches her eyes, and dark jeans that cling to her hips and ass. Her cheeks are still flushed from her shower, and there’s a hint of shimmer on her lips. As she smiles, her whole face lights up with happiness.

This is the Winter I’ve been hoping to see—the one that doesn’t have faint shadows under her eyes and tiny lines of tension etched across her forehead. And while I know she’s felt safe here, the slight tension she always held in her shoulders has gone away.

“Hey, hun.” I force aside my conflicted feelings and return her smile. “You look beautiful.” Leaving the counter, I cross the kitchen to meet her halfway, pulling her into my arms and capturing her lips.

Her arms twine around my neck as she kisses me back, her breasts pressing temptingly into my chest. She smells like flowers and citrus, her mouth tastes of sweet mint, and she feels so perfect in my arms I can’t help wondering is there enough time to make love to Winter before we leave for the store?

Maybe. Then again, we made love—yes, I’ve moved beyond calling it sex—three times last night. Winter’s probably sore and I should give her a break. Settle for kisses and coffee and save the rest of it for later.

When we end the kiss, Winter stares at me for a few seconds with this sort of half-smile curving her lips.

I tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What are you smiling about?”

Her smile expands. “Just thinking.”

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