Leo Mathis
His eyes warm as he points to his name. “You mean this?”
“I do.” I step closer. “You told me it’s okay to speak up for what I want.” I skim my lips over the corner of his mouth. “And I want you.”
Fire burns in his gaze, and I want nothing more than to be warmed by his touch. “Likewise, Greta Carlton.” He pulls me to him and kisses me in the glow of twinkling lights.
EPILOGUE
CHRISTMAS NIGHT ONE YEAR LATER
Leo’s goingto ask me to marry him. A girl can sense this kind of thing. Or maybe it’s just cold, hard facts. The reasons for my suspicion are as follows: A ring of mine disappeared a few weeks ago, only to turn up in the same place a day later. A subtle yet effective way to get my ring size. This morning, when exchanging gifts, Leo said he’s held one back for the “right time.” After Christmas dinner with Mom and Pap, Leo suggested I dress warmly because he’s taking me somewhere special outdoors. And that special placemustbe the turtledoves display, where Gran and Pap got engaged over sixty years ago.
Now it’s my turn.
How perfect would it be to seal our love at that very spot?!
Which is why, when Leo guides me past the bend leading to our park bench, my steps falter. I’m rubbernecking like crazy, but he’s not catching the hint. I squeeze his hand. “I thought we were visiting the turtledoves.”
His gaze meets mine, and I realizeheknowsIknow. By the handsome curl to his lips, he’s not exactly bothered that I’m onto him. Instead, he wraps an arm around my back and lowers hishead. “That’s their moment.” He points to the street clock where the turtledoves are nestled nearby. “Let’s go get ours.”
A surge of love swells in my chest, and I vow to follow those dimples anywhere. At this point, I don’t care if he drops to one knee next to the porta-johns where Josie hijacked the light display two years ago. Okay, I might mind a little.
I glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the season. Last Christmas everything spun by in a haze, but this year, I purposed to live in the present. Leo and Tilly helped me with this year’s Secret Santa project, and we were able to select a recipient quickly this time. Just like last year, I didn’t watch the big reveal on the news. For some reason, it didn’t feel right, like it’s almost transactional gifting if I saw their emotional response. As I’ve learned to receive help with no strings attached, I want to freely give without reciprocation of any kind.
I shake off my deep thoughts in time to realize we’re close to the opening of … Killer Hill.
My grin breaks free, and we quicken our steps, which turns into a full-blown race. Leo hooks me by the waist, so I don’t reach the crest of the hill before he does. My laugh spills into the snow-laden air.
He hauls me back against his chest and his lips brush my ear. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” I’m breathless, and it has nothing to do with my recent sprint.
“Good,” he says, slipping his hands over my eyes. “I’ll guide you.”
“If you dare push me down the hill, Leo Mathis, I will tell the old men you want to be a Maverick.”
He tightens his hold, and I can feel his huff of laughter against my neck. “That’s low.” He may talk tough, but Leo loves those guys as much as I do.
Gently, he leads me along and removes his touch.
That’s when I see it.
At the bottom of Killer Hill is a winter wonderland. Leo decorated the surrounding evergreens with twinkle lights and lanterns. I squint and am able to make out a tarp on the ground. Oh my gosh. “A winter picnic!”
“Yeah, I was told once that hot chocolate after sledding is a must.”
I open my mouth, but Leo seems to anticipate my question because he moves to one of the trees where he propped a sled. But not just any sled. “You fixed it.”
Leo holds out the vintage piece I salvaged for my parade float. It’s completely restored. He replaced the mangled rail and stained the wooden slats. He sets it on the edge of the hill and grins at me. “You’re the only girl I’ll ever share a sled with.”
The one-sled trope. It’s a thing now.
I lift on my toes and kiss him.
After several delicious minutes, he rests his forehead against mine. “I was going to wait until we got to the bottom of the hill, but I’m kind of nervous it will fall out of my pocket. I think”—he reaches into his coat pocket and lowers onto one knee, despite the four inches of snow—“that this will be safer on your finger.” He peers up at me and opens a black velvet box.
My hand flies to my mouth at the platinum solitaire diamond.
