“I’d like three or four kids,” I say.
He takes my hands in his, eyes lighting up. “Four sounds perfect.”
There may not be any guarantees with Shep. The best-laid plans rarely go as intended, but I’d rather take the risk than spend my life wondering what might have been with the man I’ve fallen head over heels for.
Meet Me Under The Mistletoe
I’d braced myself for the day after Christmas to feel hollow—forced into another goodbye I wasn’t ready for. This time, though, I knew if I had to watch Noelle walk away, I wouldn’t survive it.
Thankfully, the worst-case scenario didn’t happen, and instead, I’m celebrating that she’s staying for the foreseeable future. Sure, we’ll go to New York in January so she can handle some business and pack her things, but we’ll be back on the mountain within a week. Until then, she’s all mine.
This morning, she was up earlier than usual, wanting to go on a walk by herself. I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect, but one look at those doe eyes and I was done for. Still, I made sure she was bundled up and told her I’d come looking if she wasn’t back within the hour.
She’s got fifteen minutes left before I make good on my promise.
To keep myself preoccupied, I’m going through my closet, sorting through flannels, a handful of winter coats, and boots.Most of my clothes are decades old so it’s about time I got rid of the things I never wear.
Noelle warned me that she has an extensive wardrobe, and I want her to have plenty of space to store it all once we bring it back from New York. The sooner she feels at home, the sooner she’ll see a future for herself here—which is why I reached out to Casey and a local construction crew this morning about converting the empty office at High Noon into a soundproof podcast studio. They’re fast-tracking the job and by the end of next week, it’ll be ready for Noelle to use.
The bonus? With her office next to mine, it’ll be added motivation to show up at the honky-tonk more often. I’m also looking forward to settling back into managing some of the day-to-day, like I used to. Casey’s done a great job keeping things running smoothly, but it’ll be nice to be part of the action again.
I’ve just started a donation pile when my phone rings. I’m not surprised to find that Birdie is video calling me; she tried yesterday, but I was a little preoccupied, so I sent her a text wishing her a Merry Christmas.
“Hello,” I answer.
Birdie’s smile fills the screen. “Glad to see your broody face. I was worried after getting that nice message yesterday that you’d had a personality transplant.”
She has her phone propped up on the counter as she makes coffee.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, attempting a scowl, but failing to keep a straight face.
She wipes her brow in exaggerated relief as she walks across the kitchen. “I was starting to wonder how I’d make it through the week without my regular dose of grump.”
“A double shot of caffeine ought to do the trick.”
“You’re paying since you’re the reason I need it to begin with,” she tosses over her shoulder as she opens her fridge. “So,how’s Noelle?” She slips the question in like it’s the most natural thing to ask.
“What makes you think she’s still here?” I reply with a half-smile as I try to fold a long-sleeved flannel with one hand.
It’s obvious Birdie’s itching for an update. Aside from her attempted call yesterday and a handful of texts, we haven’t talked in a few days—and I can’t deny I’m enjoying stretching out the suspense. She’s merciless with her teasing, so it’s only fair that I return the favor.
She stands near the fridge, hazelnut creamer in one hand, the other on her hip, looking at the camera with an eyebrow raised. “You might be the ancient one, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Noelle had you the minute she set foot on your property, whether you realized it or not. And when you told me you were making her lunch, I knew you were a goner.”
I don’t bother setting her straight. Technically, I never admitted to making Noelle lunch. Birdie just assumed, and the last thing I want is her gloating about being right.
“I’m still not sure why you’re invested in my dating life,” I huff out with a sigh, tossing a pair of old jeans into the donation pile.
“Because you’re my cousin and I want you to be happy.” Birdie returns to the counter, splashing creamer into her coffee and taking a sip before adding, “So is Noelle still there or not?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, she is.”
“Does that mean you spent Christmas together?” Birdie’s voice is now three octaves higher.
“Yeah.”
She straightens, and her eyes lighten up. “Does that mean the two of you are official?”
I press my lips together to hide my amusement. “Yeah, it does.”
