Page 23 of 3 Stolen Kisses

And I may be an old bastard, but I’m already planning round two.

* * *

Three years later

“Close your eyes. You ready? Are they closed?”

Alison scoffs, climbing out of the truck with her mitten-clad hand in mine for balance. Snow crunches beneath her boot heel as she steps down, and a pine-scented breeze lifts her glossy dark hair. “I’m wearing a blindfold, Saxon. What does it matter?”

She can’t see my stern look, but I give her one anyway. “Don’t care. Close ‘em.”

“So bossy.” A smile plays around Ali’s mouth, and I squeeze her hand before I lead her to the cabin door.

Our steps are slow and careful, her balance wobbly without her vision, and you’d better believe I’m taking no risks with my pregnant wife as I guide her up the snowy steps. I’d better shovel and sweep those later before she comes this way again. When it comes to Alison, I play it safe.

She’s precious. The most important thing in my life by a country mile.

She has been since the moment I met her.

“It’s cold here,” Ali says, her head turning blindly as I fiddle with the key in the lock. “Smells fresh, too. Like how I imagine the mountains smell.”

There’s a real good reason for that, and Iknowthis is Ali’s dream, know this is the kind of place she’s always longed for, but I’m still buzzing with nerves as I get the door open and flick on the lights. As I scowl at the empty fireplace, heart sinking.

Should I go in there now and light the fire? Make the full impact?

But what if she gets cold waiting out on the deck?

“You’ve gone all quiet,” Ali observes, finding my shoulder after a few false attempts and rubbing me through my thick winter jacket. “Whatever you’re all frazzled about, it’ll be fine.”

“I’m thinking second thoughts.” It’s always so easy to confess things to Ali, even when she’s not blindfolded. She loves me the way I love her: with no reservations, and no take-backs. Even if I’ve miscalculated here, she’ll love me just the same, and it’s that thought that gets me breathing again. My shoulders relax, and I steer my wife into the doorway and face her at the cabin. “But here goes nothing. Surprise, baby girl.”

Her silky hair clings to the blindfold, but it tugs away easily. Ali gasps, staring wide-eyed into the cozy mountain home, and she claps her mittens together under her chin.

“I figured… you always wanted a snowy Christmas…”

“It’s perfect,” Ali breathes, bouncing on her toes in her brand new snow boots. “Oh my god, there’s afireplace. And a rocking chair! And bookcases and throws and wooden beams and it smells like sap and pine—”

“The works,” I agree, chest loosening. Well, I can’t have gonetoowrong, even if she doesn’t know the kicker yet.

“Thank you.” When Ali turns to me, eyes so bright, I could get lost in them forever. Could swim around in her baby blues. “This is the best vacation ever.”

Yeah. That’s the thing…

“Doesn’t have to be,” I say carefully, trying to gauge her reaction as I say the words. She’s sweet and excited, mittens still clutched beneath her chin. “Doesn’t have to be a vacation unless you want it to be. We could live here full time, baby. It’s ours. I bought it.”

Her mouth drops open and just like that, the nerves are back, crowding my throat. Making my chest feel tight.

“We don’t have to,” I rush to say, kicking myself inside for thinking this was ever a good idea. “It can just be an investment property, or a rental home. We can flip it or only come here once a year, whatever you want. But I know you’ve always wanted a normal life, and the thing is, out here in the sticks like this, no one gives a shit about the Wainwright family. Even beautiful as you are, no one would know you from Eve. So I could get a local job and you could do your editing work, and no one would ever bother you. We wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. But if this is dumb—”

“It’s not dumb.” Ali plasters herself against my chest, and her voice is shaky. “It’ssonot dumb, Saxon. We can really live here? Start over like that? In the snow?”

I press my smile against her hair. “Don’t think it snows in the summer, baby.”

“I don’t care.” My wife laughs, soft and perfect, and presses a kiss to my throat. “Oh my god, I don’t care. I love it.”

Thank god for that.

This was a risk, and it’ll be a major change for both of us… but if it’s better for Ali, it’s better for me. Plain and simple. I live to make this woman happy. It’s my whole deal.

---