Page 13 of Mountain Man's Winter Wonder
“I want to make snow globes on the side.”
“I’ll build the workshop.” He leaned in and kissed me — slow and featherlight, all promise and warmth. We broke apart on heavy breaths.
“Okay,” I said, firmer now. “I’ll go home. I’ll talk to them. Then I’ll come back.”
“And I’ll be right here,” he said, voice certain enough to be a tether. “Waiting.”
Around us, the festival continued to wind down. Vendors zipped up tarps. A kid chased a dog. Somewhere, someone started playing Christmas music again. “Silent Night.” For the first time, I had hope for future Christmases.
“I love you,” I blurted before I could think myself out of it. The words tumbled out, bright and reckless.
Buck’s grin could have powered a small town. “I love you too. Now go home and tell your parents you’re moving to North Carolina to live with a mountain man who brings you peppermint and builds drive-thrus.”
I laughed, the sound light and honest. “They’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Maybe you have,” he said, pulling me close. “Maybe we both have. But I think crazy suits us.”
At the end of the day, I’ll tuck the last snow globe carefully into its box, feeling greedy and brave all at once. Then I’ll grab my keys and my peppermint-scented future and head home — to have the hard conversation, to do the brave work, and to come back to him.
EPILOGUE
SHERATON
“Order up.”
The two words immediately brought me to attention. I had to remind myself I was seated on my sofa, swollen feet propped up, not at the hot dog and burger stand that kept me busy all day, every day.
In this case, I didn’t even have to get up. My husband of almost a decade was walking toward me, tray in hand. He’d made me my favorite—breakfast for dinner—and now he was spoiling me by carrying it straight to me.
“The kids would be annoyed if they saw this,” I said with a smile. “Lorelai’s always asking to eat over here on the sofas.”
“Yeah, well, while the cat’s away…”
Buck had a goofy grin as he said that. He knelt to hand the tray to me and kept going, planting a sweet kiss on my lips before heading back to the kitchen.
These nights alone were becoming more and more common now that our twins, Lorelai and Remy, were older. They were eight, and tonight they were at a big Christmas lock-in at the local trampoline park. It was marketed as a way to give parentsa chance to shop, but we were doing all our Christmas shopping online this year.
“What do you think?” Buck asked as he returned, his own tray in hand.
“Perfect,” I said. “Nobody makes a fried pork chop like you.”
He settled in next to me, his warmth a familiar comfort against my side. He reached for the remote on the arm of the sofa, but I stopped him, my fingers curling over the solid muscle of his upper thigh. The look he gave me was pure, undiluted heat.
“The movie can wait,” I said, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I have something else in mind.”
His grin was slow and predatory. “Yeah? What’s that?”
My answer was to lean in and capture his mouth in a searing kiss, my hand sliding down to the zipper of his jeans. I felt his sharp intake of breath against my lips as I freed him, my fingers wrapping around his hard, silken length. A low groan rumbled in his chest, and his own hand slipped beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, finding my aching pussy with an unerring accuracy that made me gasp.
“So wet for me,” he said, his finger circling my clit in a rhythm that had my hips arching off the cushions.
We touched each other like that for long, exquisite minutes, a building storm of shared breath and soft, desperate sounds. The world narrowed to the space between our bodies, to the slick friction of his finger and the way his eyes darkened as I stroked him.
Finally, with a growl, he gripped my hips and pulled me on top of him, until I was straddling his lap. Our kisses turned frantic, hungry. He gripped the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head in one swift motion, tossing it aside.
My bare breasts pebbled in the cool air, but his mouth was instantly there, hot and worshipful. He took one taut nippleinto his mouth, his tongue laving over the sensitive peak until a broken cry was torn from my throat.
His hands went to my waist, pushing my sweatpants and panties down. I helped, shimmying them to my calves, baring myself completely to his heated gaze.
