I don’t explain. All I want is to get through this. I look down at her. “This time, try to stay unburied.”
She gives me a shove and sticks out her tongue, then she waddles away in the thick winter clothing I’ve put her in.
Chuckling, I head for a family wearing matching winter jackets. They surround a massive fir tree and point excitedly. I doubt their small Honda can haul it away, but that doesn’t stop my chest from lighting up at the glee on their faces.
An hour later, I wave goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Yeager, who own the bake shop in town, my gloves dirtier than when I arrived. I search the farm, the thick curtain of trees, for Bellamy. When I don’t find her, I tug off my hat and run a hand through my hair.
“Hey, Pops,” I call out. “Have you seen—” A hard icy ball slams into the back of my neck, cutting me off.
The giggle that comes after has me turning.
Bellamy stands near the red barn, small chunks of snow clinging to the fabric of her mittens.
She wiggles her brows. “Let your guard down, cowboy.”
“Now you’re gonna get it.” Grinning, I dip down and scoop a handful of snow. I pop back up, packing it tight, only to be hit in the chest with another ball of snow.
I lob mine at her, and when it smacks into her thigh, she squeaks.
I take off after her, cold air rushing over me, bringing me to life. With another squeal, this one louder, she bolts. I catch her behind the barn, pressing her back against the red siding.Her cheeks are flushed, her nose a cute shade of pink. White snowflakes cling to her lashes. I pull her closer, inhaling messy chestnut hair. It smells like pine and coffee and burnt sugar.
“Caught you, sugar.”
“Lucky me.” She hums, a coy smile tugging at her lips.
A laugh busts out of me, straight from the chest, the heart.
Fuck but I haven’t been this happy in a long time.
She curls her hands over my shoulders, her expression turning confused. “Hank,” she breathes. “Is this bad? What we’re doing?”
“What are we doin’?”
Her lips flatten in that familiar scold. “Hank.”
“Is anyone else touchin’ you like this?” I tip her chin up, nudge my hand to the back of her neck, run my fingers through the silky strands of her hair.
“No.” Her sigh is sweet and sexy.
“Then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Far as I’m concerned, it’s exactly right.
“But we’re divorced.” Worry, uncertainty flare in the depths of her amber eyes.
That can be changed.
“Does it matter?” When she’s silent, I swallow. My heart’s ready to beat itself out of my chest. “Listen, Bell. You asked me to stay for Christmas. Do you still want that?”
“Yes,” she says. “I want it.”
As long as you want me, you have me.
I catch her mouth with mine. Sighing, she melts into me and hungrily returns my kiss. She’s soft and warm in my arms. Nothing has ever felt this sure.
When she pulls away, she scours the stalls. “Where are Billie Jean and Thriller?”
I flinch at the mention of my favorite buckskin quarter horses, but I school my features quickly. “Think Pops put ’em in the pasture.”
Despite my even tone, my gut sinks. It’s a lie, but how do I tell her we sold them in hopes of saving the farm and the cabin, only to find it still wasn’t enough? It’ll break her damn heart.
