She smiles, wobbly but happy, and throws her arms around me. I rock her back and forth as she whispers into my neck, “It’s a yes, cowboy.”
DECEMBER 25TH
I’m boneless. Battered. Utterly and thoroughly exhausted.
Not to mention, in love. After our confessions in Hank’s shop, we retired to the bedroom and stayed there until morning. Now, bright sunlight streams through the window, warming my face. I lie on my back for a long second, basking in this picture-perfect Christmas morning.
This second chance.
I’m still so overwhelmed by the way this trip has turned out. Grateful too.
Hank’s mine all over again.
I turn my head, finding Hank’s sapphire eyes on me.
“Stare much?” I tease.
“Only at my wife.”
A shiver works its way through me, leaving pure happiness in its wake.
The side of Hank’s mouth kicks up, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Happy birthday, sugar.” He kisses me, arms circling me tight, and pulls me into his hard body.
“Hmm.” I nuzzle into him, sweeping my lips over his neck, his chest. “Easy, cowboy. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Hell, I’m aimin’ to right that real quick, Bluebell.” Brow furrowed, he sits up and checks the clock on the nightstand. “Think the courthouse is open?”
“Today’s Christmas, Hank.” With a laugh, I clutch his shoulder and drag him back down into the sheets with me. We face each other, wriggling together, my arms around his neck and his hands on my hips. “It’s time for sloth and gluttony.”
“My favorite sins.” He rubs a thumb across my lips, his voice darkening as he says, “But there’s nothing I love more than you.”
“Hank…” I breathe out, my heart stumbling.
“I could stay like this all day. With you.” The husk of his words vibrates along my bare skin as he inches closer.
“We have to keep traditions,” I murmur.
He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of my silk sleep shorts, pulling a deep sigh from me. “Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?”
“Only my husband.”
“Sounds like a smart man.” He nudges my cheek with his nose. “Tell me, Bluebell.”
“Pies. Pumpkin. Pecan.” I’m distracted now, a rambling incoherent woman thanks to Hank Blue. A calloused finger pressing on my thigh. I tip my knees open, the smallest whimper falling from my lips as he finds my heat.
“Horseback rides.” Two thick fingers dip into me. I’m breathless now, eyes falling shut. “Coffee and Irish cream. Presents.”
He uses the heel of his hand to work the delicate bundle of nerves.
I throw my head back, a shuddering breath leaving my lungs. “In no particular order.”
“We’ll have all that,” Hank says, voice thick and throaty, “but first, a new tradition.” He sweeps his lips against mine, the rough brush of his stubble catching my cheek as he pulls away.
I crack an eye, peer up at him.
Arms flexing, he presses himself up so he’s hovering over me. His attention trails down my body, pauses on the dusky dark nipples peeking through my thin tank top.
Adrenaline and lust buzz through me. I straighten in the sheets, my body tight with anticipation, already arching, aching for his touch. “Better get to it, cowboy.”
