Page 12 of Mountain Man's Pumpkin Spice
“Just your booth. And mine.”
I looked at her, surprised. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I think we both deserve a day off.”
I stood, still holding her hand.
“I’ll put up a sign on my booth,” I said. “You want to grab your stuff?”
She rose to her feet. “On my way.”
Ten minutes later, we were headed toward my truck. I slung her tote bag over one shoulder, then laced my fingers through hers as we walked, passing the crowd and the vendors and the flurry of autumn colors without looking back.
There were people who called out to us. Others who raised brows. But neither of us cared.
Not when I had her hand in mine.
Not when I knew, deep in my gut, that this was just the beginning.
We weren’t just headed to my place. We were headed toward forever.
EPILOGUE
MARISSA
The sign on the door readClosed, but Ashe still had some business to handle.
“Store’s empty,” he said as he came up behind me, palms sliding around my waist, fingers hooking low at my hips.
“I know.” I smirked, still wiping down the front display case, one final streak of cinnamon sugar smudged along the glass. “We’re going to be late.”
His voice dropped to a growl. “Then you’d better stop bending over like that, sunshine.”
I straightened up slowly—just to tease him—then leaned back into his chest. His hands didn’t waste a second. They slid lower, cupping me through my leggings with a reverence that still made my knees weak after eight years of marriage and three wild little boys.
“The kids are with your parents,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder. “And we’re picking them up in”—I checked the clock—“twenty minutes. Dinner after.”
“Plenty of time.” He kissed my neck, slow and firm, then bit gently just below my ear. “I’ve missed this ass all day.”
I laughed. “You saw it when I bent over the herb bins an hour ago.”
“Exactly.” He spun me gently, pressing me back against the glass case that held rows of tiny jars and carved wooden spoons. His hands landed on either side of my hips, caging me in. “And I haven’t thought of a single thing since.”
His mouth found mine, and the rest of the world dropped away. The door was locked. The spice shop smelled like cinnamon and firewood. The lights were dim.
And the man I’d married still kissed me like he wanted to ruin me.
My breath caught when he slipped a hand beneath the hem of my sweater and gripped my bare hip. “No panties?” he asked, eyes dark.
I shook my head, a shiver running down my spine as his fingers traced the curve of my waist. “You know I like to keep things simple.”
His grin was wicked, his touch electric. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
His hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of my leggings. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands hooking around my leggings and pulling them down in one swift motion. I gasped as the cool air hit my skin, but his touch was warm as he traced patterns up my thighs.
“Ashe,” I breathed. “We don’t have much time.”
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with desire. “Then we’d better make the most of it.”
