Page 20 of The Christmas Romance Wish

Tapping Alex lightly on the arm, I say, “Go do your hosting duties. I’ll be here...and if it’s all the same, I’d like to stay warm here by the fire while you guys hike tomorrow. I can get some work done.”

“I’ll make sure a peppermint mocha is waiting for you.”

“That would be sweet.”

He adds, “And maybe you can visit Ginny.”

That, not so much.

Alex welcomes everyone to the Wild Warriors Winter Weekend Retreat and wreath-making event. He talks about how the quarterly ruck is a good way to train for tactical fitness, bond with brothers, and get outdoors.

“If any of you skip the service portion and leave early before making a wreath or two and packing meals to donate, you owe me one hundred pushups...in the snow.”

Several of the guys groan.

“No complaining. Oxygen thieves aren’t welcome. You’ll hike, make wreaths, pack meals, and be happy about it.”

“Says the good idea fairy. Have you checked the temps? Tomorrow is going to be brutal,” Paxton says.

Alex continues, “We all served our country and the hike is a way to remind ourselves what it’s like to be uncomfortable, to push ourselves, to work together. We also now continue by serving the community.” He describes the wreath-making and meals they’ll be providing.

It’s impressive and inspiring. Almost makes my icy heart thaw.

“You may also notice my co-writer has joined us for the weekend,” Alex says, gesturing to me where I sit behind the guys on the arm of the couch.

I jolt from my thoughts as all eyes land on me.

With a regal bow, Paxton formally introduces me, “Your Majesty, Princess, Royal Lady of the Circle of Mad Mojo, Order of the First Degree, Queen of Eaglewood Acres.”

“Also known as Emmie,” Jesse adds.

My cheeks warm with the attention, and my mind races. “It’s nice to meet you all. As the resident writer and royalty, I won’t be doing the hike tomorrow, however, you’re welcome to share stories about Alex’s heroism.”

His dimple appears then fades when he turns to the group. “Don’t say anything to embarrass me. I’m looking at you, Pax.”

“Do you mean you don’t want me to mention that night we were on duty and you wanted to go to the—” one guy says.

“Zip. It. You’re still my subordinate.”

He pouts. “I thought we were brothers. No fair for you to flaunt all that chest candy.”

I’ve gleaned that means Alex is more decorated with ribbons and medals of valor than the guy who commented.

The others chuckle.

“Our medic and all-around top chef The Carnitas Cowboy has prepared a mean meal for y’all so go ahead and dig in. Wemuster at zero-dark thirty so no one get carried away with the libations.”

The room full of Spartans thunder toward the food line, which I glean consists of tacos and an assortment of side dishes, including queso. Everyone spreads out in the room, small groups and pairs breaking off into conversation. I overhear the recounting of missions and mentions of missing fallen brothers.

After filling a plate, I find a seat near the fire and listen for the low rumble of Alex’s voice like a homing beacon—likely these guys will too as they trudge through the forest tomorrow with him as their intrepid guide.

Knowing as much as I do about this honorable man, he has a special way of leading people home. Unexpectedly, his invitation here woke something up inside me. It’s like coming out from under a spell.

More than anything, I wanted to escape Coco Key. I got all the fashionable clothing, the big sunglasses, the sugar shoes, and tried to be a big city woman.

I thought I wanted that life, but maybe the mountains are for me.

Perhaps this is where I belong.

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