Page 97 of Mountain Wood

I’m going to cherish this date forever.

Next, he wins me a stuffed black bear wearing a red winter hat over at the gaming booths. I should have known he’d be a sharpshooter. My man hit the target six times in a row and winked at me between each one.

So. Sexy.

“It’s almost time for the tree lighting,” Dean says.

Holding my hand, he leads us back to the center of town just in time. Everyone gathering around the tree gives major Whoville vibes, which I love.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” Cheers erupt as the thirty-foot-tall Christmas tree lights up with a million colorful bulbs.

Dean stands behind me with his arms wrapped around my middle. He kisses the side of my head, and I get all that on camera too.

“Does it annoy you that I always record?”

“Nope.” He sways a little with me in his arms while the band in the firehall jams out. “Whatever makes you happy, sugar.”

I spin and hook my arms around his neck. “This has been so fun. Thank you.”

Dean kisses me again. “Thankyou.”

Everyone disperses, likely finishing up shopping and heading home now that the big event is over. Not to mention it’s snowing pretty hard now. “This is the sweetest town I’ve ever been in.” I sigh.

Across the street, a man in a black peacoat catches my attention and my heart seizes for the second time tonight. I blink, breath hitching as I watch him disappear in the crowd.

Dean must sense my sudden shift in body language. “You okay?”

“Yup!” I say, acting extra bubbly and happy.

Except I’m not sure that’s true. This is the second time I’ve been nervous tonight, thinking I see Bryson Clyde-Smith here. The first was when we were at the coffee shop earlier, and I didn’t say anything then either because I’m probably just being paranoid. There’s no way that idiot would stick around this long after we ran him off Dean’s property, nor would he beback so fucking soon. And he sure as shit wouldn’t be enjoying a night out at some Jingle Jubilee.

You’re just freaking out because Bryson’s fresh on your mind after that conversation with Jackson this afternoon.

“You’re right,” I say to myself.

“What?” Dean asks.

“Nothing.” I tap my head. “Just talking to me.”

Unfazed, Dean cups my face. “I hope you’re saying nice things to yourself.” He kisses my forehead, and warmth spreads through my system. “Come on, let’s go home.”

I’m more than ready. It’s fun doing stuff like this, but I’d rather be warm and cozy in a cabin with my man, than out in the freezing cold night with a crowd. The snow is really sticking to the ground now.

By the time we get back to Dean’s truck, I’ve convinced myself that I hallucinated Bryson and decide to not bring it up. That is until we turn onto Dean’s road and several tire tracks lay in the freshly fallen snow.

I lean forward with my hands on the dashboard. “Someone’s been here.”

Dean doesn’t say a word.

I glance over at him, ready to press the issue, but there’s a serene smile on his face. He’s not alarmed. In fact, he doesn’t look shocked at all that there are so many tire tracks on his private property.

I narrow my gaze. “What are you up to?”

“Who? Me?” His smile grows wider. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Butterflies swarm in my belly, blowing all my worries away. We go over his little bridge and pull upto the front of his house. Smoke billows from the chimney. There’s a warm glow in the windows.

I shove my door open and Dean growls. Leaning over me, he snatches the handle and slams it shut again. “No touching.”

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