Page 47 of Sweet Doe
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Alaska.” I lie.
She blinks. “That’s random.”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”Not a lie.“Somewhere deep enough that no one would ever find us. Somewhere quiet. With nothing but trees and snow and time.”
She sips her tea, watching me over the rim. Her voice is lighter when she asks, “Would I have Wi-Fi?”
I chuckle. “Depends how good you are.”
She hums low in her throat, then sets the mug down and nudges herself into my side. Her body fits against mine like she’s always belonged there. Her fingers find mine and they tangle loosely. Her breath slows. I press a kiss to her temple, letting my lips linger, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of her skin and the faint woodsmoke curling in her sweater. The scent is comforting now. Home. A need to protect her claws deep in my chest and refuses to let go.
We sit like that for a while. No words. Just the sound of the fire and the wind outside. Just the steady beat of her heart against me.
“I’ve been thinking,” I murmur finally, voice low, thick. “If we ever did go north… I’d build everything from scratch. Better than this place. Stronger. Bigger. Solar panels, water tanks, a proper greenhouse. A real workshop.”
She doesn’t pull away or make a joke yet. Just rests her head against my shoulder and whispers, “I want a window seat.”
That catches me off guard. “Yeah?”
“With a cushion. Big enough to curl up with a book and tea and ignore you completely.”
I laugh under my breath. “You’d ignore me?”
“Oh, absolutely. You’d be chopping wood shirtless in the yard, and I’d be up in my reading nook pretending not to notice. But I’d notice.”
I grin. “I’ll make the cushion extra wide. So I can join you.”
Her fingers trace slow patterns across my knuckles. “You’d just distract me.”
“That’s the plan.”
She turns her face into my neck, breath warm against my skin. “Can I have a bathtub?”
“I’ll build you the biggest one I can find. Deep enough to drown in.”
“Romantic,” she teases, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I’d hold you under and kiss you while the water stole your breath,” I mutter against her hair, deadpan, and she smacks my chest with a laugh.
“You’re not allowed near the bathroom plans.”
“No promises.”
She exhales a soft, pleased sound. I can feel it more than hear it. Her next words are quieter. “I want a garden, too. Not just for vegetables. Flowers. Big, colorful ones. I want to paint the fence stupid colors and hang wind chimes that drive you crazy.”
“You’re already driving me crazy.”
“Then it’s working.”
I shift beside her, brushing her hair behind her ear, studying her like I’m trying to memorize her face all over again. “You’d stay?”
She meets my gaze. “If you build the tub, without drowning me in it, and the window seat…I’ll consider it.”
I trace my thumb over the curve of her cheek. “Done.”
“And I want a cat.”
