Page 28 of Her Grumpy Cowboy
Her breath hitches.
“Even if you sell the place, even if you leave Silver Bell Hollow, I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”My voice dips lower now.“But if you’re looking for a reason to stay… I’ll give you one.”
Angel swallows hard.“Just one?”
I smile.“I can give you fifty.But let’s start with this.”
I lean in slowly, letting her close the distance, and when her lips meet mine, it’s soft, sure, and laced with promise.
“I’m thirty-one years old,” I murmur.“I’ve been through enough stupid to be done with it.Being with you is the best thing I’ve ever done with my time.I want you, Angel.I want this town that won’t stop celebrating Christmas.I want a job that uses me up in the right ways.I want to fix fence posts that look fine to everyone else and sleep under a roof that bears my name.None of that depends on one text from a realtor about a building I already know belongs with you.”
Her eyes grow glossy.“Say it again.”
“I want you,” I repeat roughly.“I want to be yours.I want you to be mine.I want forever, and I don’t scare easy.”
She leans forward and kisses me again—soft and sweet, gratitude twined with hunger.I kiss her back but pull away before I take it where we both want it.She groans, adorable and furious.
“Shower,” I say.“Warm water.I’ll do the work.”
I haul her up and carry her to the bathroom, setting her on the closed toilet lid while I start the water.I strip like a man who knows he’s being watched by his woman.Her breath catches, and I decide not to be a saint.
“Eyes on me, Shortcake,” I murmur, stepping into the steam.“Come here.”
I bring her under the spray and turn her so her back is to my chest, water pelting our shoulders, steam turning the world small and intimate.Soaping my hands, I run them over her arms, her stomach, and down her thighs.I wash her like it matters, because it does.She leans back into me with a moan that rewires my spine.
“This is… nice,” she says shyly, likeniceis an obscenity.“No one’s ever taken care of me like this.”
“Get used to it.”I kiss the back of her neck.“I’m going to touch you a little,” I add, my mouth by her ear.“You tell me if you’re too sore.”
“It’s all right,” she says.“It’s all so right.”
I keep it gentle, my hand between her thighs, slow circles, praise in her ear until she turns liquid sweet, until she murmurs my name and shakes apart in the steam.I hold her, tell her how good she is for me, how proud I am of her.I don’t take anything more than that, not after what she gifted me last night.
After, I wrap her in a towel, lay her on the bed, and kiss her knee like a fool.She laughs, dazed and happy.I like that sound more than any sound I’ve liked in a long time.
Her phone buzzes in the kitchen.She grimaces.“Sorry.”
I grab it from the kitchen before she can and set it in her palm.“You don’t have to apologize for your life.”
She stares at me for a second.“Will you… read it with me?”
“Sure.”
She unlocks the screen.The realtor’s messages are exactly what I expected:amazing offer!andfast close possible!andholiday premium!At the bottom, a line:Buyer is an out-of-state hospitality group.They want to ‘reimagine’ the space.
Angel’s fingers tighten.“Reimagine,” she says flatly.“As in… gut it?”
I nod.“As in turnMistletoe Muginto a brand.Maybe they keep the name.Maybe they just keep the lease and paint everything a color that photographs well.”
Angel presses her lips together like she’s swallowing tears.“The idea of someone taking this place and making it… notMistletoe Mug?That would be like watching someone take a bite out of the moon.”
“Then that’s your answer,” I say.“Choose the life that’s best for you, Angel.I’ll stand beside you.And if you change your mind, I’ll pack boxes and be the guy who carries the heavy things.”
Her smile almost has my heart pounding so hard, it almost breaks my ribs.“Okay.”
She texts:Thanks for the offer, but I’ve decided not to sell.Her hand trembles when she hits send.When the whoosh goes, she sags like a weight has been lifted.
I pull her close and tuck her under my chin.“Proud of you.”
