Page 24 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
The absurdity of it all—our awkward formality, the ridiculousness of a wild animal dashing through the house, bribing a squirrel with Christmas cookies…it's too much.
"Your face," I manage between giggles. "When it jumped on the chandelier?—"
"Your face when it ran up the tree!" He slides down the wall to sit beside me. "’We have a situation!’,” he mocks playfully.
"You looked ready to tackle it!"
"Standard police procedure for home invasions." He's grinning now, and damn, I've missed that. "Even if the perpetrator is fifteen inches tall and weighs a pound."
Our laughter fades, as we're sitting on the floor surrounded by fallen ornaments and ribbon.
"About yesterday," he says quietly. "What I said?—"
"Don't." I pick up a silver ornament, turning it over in my hands. "You’re right. Thisiscomplicated."
"It is." He stops, and looks out the window. "Shit."
I follow his gaze. Snow is falling. And not the gentle, picturesque kind from a Christmas card, but heavy, thick flakes that are already obscuring the driveway.
Kade pulls out his phone, frowning at the screen. "Blizzard warning just went out. They're saying roads will be impassable within the hour."
My stomach drops. "I should go then. Before it gets worse."
"Nia—"
"I can make it." I stand, brushing off my jeans. "My Jeep's good in snow."
"No vehicle is good in whiteout conditions." He stands too, and there's something urgent in his eyes. "You need to stay."
"I'll be fine."
"I'll go out of my mind wondering if you're stuck in a ditch somewhere." His voice drops. "Stay. Please."
The lights flicker. Once. Twice.
I gesture to the ceiling. "I need to go now."
"Don't make me cuff you to my bed, Nia." The words come out rough, almost desperate. "Because I will. To keep you safe."
Everything stops.
His eyes go dark, pupils dilated, and I can see his pulse jumping in his throat.
"Is that a threat?" My voice comes out breathy.
"It's a promise."
Something reckless surges through me. "I'm calling your bluff, Officer."
For one second, he doesn't move.
Then he's on me, backing me across the room until my shoulders hit the wall. His hands bracket my head, caging me in.
"Last chance," he growls. "Tell me to stop. Right now."
I bite my lip and look up at him. "No."
He makes a sound low in his throat—half groan, half growl—and then his mouth is on mine.
