Which reminds me…I never gave her an answer about staying for Christmas. It’s what I wanted. A second chance.
“Listen, Bell.” I turn my face toward her.
The buzz of the walkie kills the mood.
“Sure could use your help, son. Snow’s clearing and we got a few straggling customers.”
With a deep breath out, I sit up. It’s always busiest right before Christmas. Late planners. Unexpected holiday guests. But that’s what the spirit of the season is all about.
Dread and sadness move through me. This’ll be our last Christmas running the farm. It’s time to admit that to myself. I’m all out of options.
“Can I go?” She slips on my shirt, a flash of flannel in my periphery. “And help?”
I frown. “You need to rest.”
Her lips twist, her brows lifting. “Like we did all morning?”
“Damn it, Bell.” She’s got me there.
“Please, Hank. For old times’ sake.” She scoots closer, only stopping when she’s in my lap, her warm legs wrapped around my waist. The steady thump of her heart beats against my chest. “Let me go.” Her mouth moves to my throat, her touch draining me of my free will.
I smooth a hand down her hip and squeeze her ass. “Best get ready to work, sugar.”
“I can barely move, Hank.”
I sit back in the saddle of the snowmobile and glance over my shoulder at Bellamy. Her petite frame’s swallowed by my overalls and a thick Carhartt jacket. A sparkly pom hat sits on top of her head, slipping low and mussing her hair.
“Deal with it.” I grip the throttle, accelerating. If she’s coming outside to work, she’s gonna be warm. “And drink your hot cocoa.”
“You’re a cruel man.” Despite the words, a small, happy sigh slips from her lips. As we ease slowly toward the tree farm, she loops her free arm around my waist and sips from her tumbler.
I like that sound. Her touch. Hell, I liked everything about this morning. I like her beside me. The sight of her beautiful smile. Showering together before we left. It was like old times.
I’ve spent so long hoping for this. Now I’m fucking terrified. Because what happens after Christmas? She goes back to San Francisco? Forgets this ever happened? I don’t fucking think so.
A flash of red in the distance catches my eye. Grinning, I gun the snowmobile. When Bellamy squeals, her hand tightening just below my ribcage, I let out a chuckle. I bounce over a pile of snow, and soon, we’re pulling up beside the big red barn.
I wait for her to climb off, then I follow, taking it all in. It’s like the blizzard never happened. The sun shines bright. The snow is powdery and white, making the farm seem like the picture-perfect destination for the holidays.
And it is.
For three more days.
Townspeople are out in full force. The best kind of chaos.Oohing andaahing over trees. Lined up at the hot chocolate truck. Employees lift their hand to me, some going wide-eyed when they see Bellamy. By dinnertime, my ex-wife will be a hot topic of conversation in town.
Christ, how the hell am I gonna tell Bellamy the truth about this place? She loves this damn farm as much as I do.
When my father comes into view, dread curls in my gut. Thumbs hitched in his belt loops, he sidles toward us, bringing the familiar scent of pipe and apple cider with him. “You two survived the blizzard.”
“And each other,” Bellamy says half seriously, half amused.
I breathe out slowly through my nose. “Where do you need us, Pops?”
He grins like he knows what we’ve been up to. “We’ve got one last Christmas rush, son.” His jovial expression dies, voice choking up. “Let’s get to it.”
My throat tightens in response.
An arm grips my bicep. Bellamy frowns up at me, questioning, curious.
