Page 31 of Christmas With My Mountain Man Landlord
"Special access." I tuck a wayward curl beneath her hat. "Reserved for guests of the sheriff."
"Is that what I am?" Her tone is teasing but with an underlying question. "A guest?"
The word feels wholly inadequate for what she's become to me in such a short time. Guest. Tenant. Lover. None capture the seismic shift her presence has triggered in my carefully ordered existence.
"You're more than that," I admit, the confession easier here among ancient trees that have witnessed far greater revelations. "Much more."
Her smile softens into something that makes my chest tight. "Good. Because you're more than just my landlord too."
I bend to kiss her, her lips cold at first contact but quickly warming. She tastes like the hot chocolate we brought in thermoses, sweet and rich. When we part, her glasses are completely fogged, and she laughs, removing them to wipe them clean on her scarf.
"Worth it," she says, replacing them. "Even if I'm temporarily blind."
We continue along the trail, our conversation flowing easily. She tells me about her writing progress, how the words are coming faster than she can type them. I’m fascinated by the way her mind works, the stories she creates from observation and imagination.
Eventually we reach a wooden bench overlooking the lake and settle there, shoulders touching, sharing the remaining hot chocolate.
"Can I ask you something personal?" Kelsie says after a comfortable silence.
"You've seen me naked. I think we're past the point of personal boundaries," I reply, drawing a laugh from her.
"After Caroline left..." She hesitates, clearly testing if the topic is allowed. "Did you ever think you'd be open to someone else? To feeling something again?"
The question pierces deeper than she probably intended. I take a moment, watching my breath cloud in the cold air.
"No," I answer honestly. "For years, I wasn't interested. Then eventually, I just didn't think about it anymore. Being alone became normal."
"Until?" She nudges gently.
"Until recently." I meet her eyes, letting her see the truth there. "Until you."
She bites her lower lip, that small gesture of vulnerability undoing something in my chest. "After my divorce, I convinced myself I was done with relationships. That I'd focus on my career, my writing. That it was safer that way."
"What changed?" I ask, though I think I know the answer.
"I came to Whisper Vale." Her smile is genuine. "And met this grumpy sheriff who saw me more clearly in a week than my ex-husband did in three years."
I take her gloved hand in mine, squeezing gently. "I wasn't looking for this," I admit. "Whatever this is between us."
"Neither was I." She leans against my shoulder. "Maybe that's why it found us."
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the winter light play across ice and snow.
"Mason texted earlier," she says casually. "While you were at the station."
The name of her brother brings an immediate shift in my awareness.Mason. My therapist. The man who knows more about my demons than anyone except perhaps Savannah.
"Oh?" I keep my tone neutral. "What about?"
"Nothing specific. Just checking in on me." She shifts to look at me. "He seems pleased about us spending time together."
A sliver of unease works its way under my skin. "What exactly did he say?"
She must hear something in my voice because her expression turns questioning. "Just that he thinks you're good for me. That I seem happier."
"Did he mention anything else?" I try to sound casual but feel tension creeping into my shoulders.
"He did say something about you having been through a lot." She rests a hand on my knee. "That I should be careful with your heart."
