Page 30 of Mountain Man Grinch
I clap a hand over my mouth. “He’s so cute, I can’t breathe.”
“Looks like a furry bratwurst,” Davin mutters. “With issues.” He steps closer until we’re a hair’s breadth apart.
Gus trots between us, pawing at my ankle until I scoop him up. “What did I tell you, Princess. A total cockblocker,” Davin groans, but there’s a new softness in his voice.
The pug squirms in my arms, twisting so he can lick Davin’s hand.
“Traitor,” I whisper into his fur.
Davin watches us, cerulean eyes warmer than I’ve ever seen them.
For a moment, the whole world narrows to this: a decorated cabin, a ridiculous pug in a reindeer sweater, and a man who used to swear he’d never do gentle looking at me like I hung the damn stars.
“Morning, Princess.”
He wears a dark green henley and worn jeans, barefoot, hair rumpled from sleep.
“Merry Christmas,” he adds.
My throat tightens. “You … did all this?”
He shrugs, awkward, like it’s no big deal that the man who threatened to throw my pug into a snowbank now lives in a Hallmark snow globe. “Wolfe brought a team sled up early, dropped supplies. Callie and Mateo sent the tree and half this crap. I just hung it.”
“Just hung it,” I repeat faintly, taking everything in. “There are lights on your beams.”
“Yeah, well.” He clears his throat. “You said you wanted Christmas.”
Emotion swells in my chest, warm and fierce. “Davin…”
His mouth quirks. “Did I do okay?”
I laugh, watery, stepping closer to him. “But you hate Christmas.”
“I hate noise and fake cheer and parties,” he corrects, sliding his free hand to my waist. “Don’t hate watching my girl lose her mind over twinkle lights.”
My heart does something ridiculous in my ribcage. “Your girl?”
“Pretty sure we established that,” he says, voice roughening. “Repeatedly.”
Heat scorches my cheeks at the memories. “Yeah, but, like … in front of your tree? With your stockings?” I glance over his shoulder. “You even gave Gus a stocking. He’s going to lord that over you forever.”
“Our tree. Our stockings,” he corrects.
I can’t hide the ear-to-ear grin that captures my lips.
“As for Gus, he’s already entitled. So, figured I’d take my chances,” he murmurs, eyes on my lips. “You sleep okay?”
“When you let me sleep.” He smiles, lazy and naughty all at once. “And you?”
“After Wolfe’s text? Yeah.” His hand strokes my waist absent-mindedly. “Task force swept the area at dawn. The rest of the Sol Rojo crew that was sniffing around got picked up on the road. RRC Command’s got them in a box. They’re not going anywhere near you.”
The last bit of tension that’s been living between my shoulder blades finally lets go.
“So it’s really over?” I whisper.
“As over as it gets,” he says. “Wolfe’ll spend a few months tearing out the rest of their roots. You won’t see them. He promised.”
I swallow hard, then lean into him, pressing my forehead to his chest. “Thank you. For all of this.”
