Page 12 of Mountain Man's Christmas Star
“We should tell the others,” Ivy said finally. “Let them know their missing stuff isn’t really missing.”
“Yeah.” I pocketed my phone, but I didn’t move. Neither did she.
The tree lighting ceremony was only hours away. Soon, the whole town would be gathered, warm and buzzing with holiday cheer. And Ivy? Ivy would be packing her bags for a city that didn’t deserve her.
“Gunnar,” she said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Last night…it wasn’t just one night for me.”
Before I could breathe, let alone answer, her phone rang.
“Becca,” she said. “Again.”
She lifted it, hesitating. But her eyes—her eyes were locked on mine like she was memorizing my face.
That was when it hit me. She didn’t want to leave. She was waiting for me to give her a reason to stay.
The raccoons skittered around behind us. Crews called out across the festival grounds. Christmas music floated from a small speaker somewhere. And I finally found the courage I should’ve had all along.
“Don’t answer it,” I said.
Her hand lowered, hope flickering in her gaze. “What?”
“Don’t answer. Stay. Stay with me.”
“Gunnar—”
“I know it’s crazy. I know we just met. But I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I don’t think you have either. Build yourbusiness here. Hell, I’ll help you hammer together a storefront from scratch if that’s what it takes. Just don’t go. Please.”
The phone stopped ringing. The town around us glowed with Christmas, raccoons continued their bizarre crime spree, and Ivy Shaw looked at me like I’d just offered her the world.
“You really want me to stay?” she whispered.
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
Her smile lit up her face, bright and sure. “Then I guess I’m staying.”
And as the tree lights flickered to life in the distance, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her like she was my very own Christmas miracle.
Which, turns out, she was.
EPILOGUE
IVY
“And you didn’t think this bathtub was big enough.”
I smiled as my husband tightened his hold on me briefly, then let go. We’d been discussing how to best put this jetted garden bathtub to use since we built this cabin several years ago. But with two young kids—Asher, seven, and Scarlet, five—we both worried about getting settled, only to hear a knock on the bathroom door.
That wouldn’t happen tonight, though. The kids were both at our neighbors’ house for the night. Lainey and Hendrix had become our best friends, and with their kids being around the same age, we were able to easily take turns with these sleepovers.
“You know,” he said, “I don’t think we need these jets.”
I knew exactly what he meant. And that was why I wore a big smile as I shut them off. Then I returned to his embrace, my back against the hard wall of his chest and his arms around me as we both stared toward the ceiling.
“Now what?” I asked, already feeling a little breathless.
