Page 6 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
"I wasn't going to say that."
"But you were thinking it, Deputy Neat Freak." She bends over to open another box, and I force my gaze to the ceiling. "Don't worry, it'll all make sense once I'm done. I swear there's a method to my madness."
I clear my throat. "What do you need me to do?"
"Well..." She surveys the mess with the confidence of a general surveying a battlefield. "There are still some boxes in the Jeep. Can you grab them?"
I head outside, grateful for the blast of cold air. By the time I've retrieved the remaining boxes my head's clear again.
When I come back inside and have to reach up to place them on a shelf she's designated for easy access, I hear Nia gasp behind me.
"Oh my."
I glance down. My shirt has ridden up, exposing my left side and part of the ink that covers my ribs and wraps around my back.
Her eyes are wide, fixed on the exposed skin. "You have tattoos."
"Yeah." I tug the fabric down quickly.
"Can I..." She steps closer, and every muscle in my body tenses. "Can I see?"
This is a bad idea. But something about the curiosity in her expression—no judgment, just interest—makes me nod.
I lift the left side of my shirt, pulling my arm out to reveal the full sleeve that starts at my wrist and covers my entire arm, spreading across my shoulder and down my ribs. Mountains rendered in black and gray, with dates woven through the peaks. A compass rose on my inner forearm. A constellation near my elbow that matches the one visible from my childhood home.
"Holy shit," she breathes. "Kade, these are beautiful."
“Thanks. Got them during the police academy." I keep my voice steady even though her being this close to me isdoing dangerous things to my focus. "Took a couple years to complete."
"What do the dates mean?" Her finger hovers near my forearm, but not quite touching.
"Birth dates. My siblings." I point to three different points. "Sadie. My brother Harlon and Jayce. Our parents' anniversary. They’re places and moments that anchor me."
She nods and I should step back. But I'm rooted to the spot, watching her study the ink like it's something she wants to explore…further. "Everyone needs reminders."
Her hand finally makes contact—just her fingertips, feather-light on the compass rose. "It must have hurt."
I fight the wave of need at her simple touch. "The ribs were the worst." My voice comes out rough. "But the pain is temporary."
Her eyes lift to mine, and she smiles. "And what you're left with is permanent."
"Exactly."
We stay like that for a heartbeat too long. Her fingers on my arm, the cabin suddenly scorching hot.
I step back, sliding my arm back into my shirt, and clear my throat. "We should probably get started on the actual decorating."
“Decorating. Yes.” She blinks, shakes her head slightly. “That's what we're doing.”
The rest of the afternoon is a constant push and pull between comfort and subtle torture. She directs, I execute. She's up on the ladder hanging garland while I spot her—and do not stare at the curve of her sweet ass in those jeans or think about gripping it while I?—
"Kade?"
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you could hand me the wire cutters."
"Sorry." I pass them up, careful not to let our fingers touch. "Got distracted."
