Wakingtothesunstreaming through the wide windows and a warm body wrapped around me, I sigh contentedly. We fell asleep on the sectional watching a movie and stayed curled into each other all night. True to his word, we’re both bundled in sweats. I burrow deeper against him, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his clean, masculine scent making my toes curl. The morning lightturns the cabin golden and dreamlike, but James’s solid warmth against me is deliciously real.
I lift my head from his chest and find him already awake. I rub the tip of my nose against his. “Good morning.”
He lifts his head to find my mouth, and we kiss for a long, sweet moment. His heat wraps around me, and I imagine never leaving this cocoon of perfection. He tastes like sleep and promise and happiness. But then he groans and rolls off me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not making out with you on that sectional.” He looks away, and I realize he’s thinking about that morning I saw him and Ivy.
“James,” my voice softens, “what if we replace those memories with ones of our own?”
He leans down, reconsidering, slides his hands to my waist, wraps my legs around him, and carries me to the kitchen.
“You can’t pick me up like that!” I squeal, protesting half-heartedly, trying to squirm out of his arms.
“Just trying to be efficient. I’ve got longer legs, and it gets us here faster.” He sets me on the counter and kisses a tender spot on my neck I never knew existed. Against my skin, he murmurs, “Do you ever think about that night here last year? Then afterward... in the sunroom?”
“Hmm... nooo, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I thread my fingers through his thick hair, pulling to see what sound he’ll make. It doesn’t disappoint.
“That smart fucking mouth.” He nips my bottom lip, eliciting a delicious moan from me.
“You love my smart mouth.”
“You’re right. I do.” He flashes that lethal smile, dimple and all. His hands tangle in my hair, one cupping the base of my neck, and then our mouths crash together—hot, hard, and completely out of control.
“I’ve used the memory of that night more times than I’ll ever admit. I remember exactly how much I wanted your lips on me. How badly I needed your touch instead of my own.”
“Your taste...” He groans against my mouth as his hips rock forward. I gasp and pull him closer, ready to lose myself in everything he’s offering.
“Mama!” Anna’s excited voice bursts over the monitor.
Laughing at her perfectly timed interruption, I run my fingers through his scruff. “Life with a three-year-old. Are you up for it?”
“I’m more than ready,” he rasps, and his lips find mine in a final, soul-stealing kiss—a kiss that promises more and seals a future neither of us could have imagined. “Besides, I’ve been practicing myFrozensongs for years. I think I’m ready for the big leagues.”
“Okay, Mr. Big Leagues. Will you finish the coffee?”
Thirty-Five
“UncaJmadepancakes!”Anna tugs me to the island. “My fav’rits!”
I settle her onto a stool, her little legs swinging excitedly, surveying the spread before her. A stack of fluffy pancakes, a bowl of fresh berries, and a container of orange juice wait for her to devour. The scent of vanilla and butter fills the kitchen. I turn to grab my coffee, only to be met with a steaming mug.
“Here you go.” Oat milk froths around the rim, perfect as always.
“Careful, I might never let you return to Boston.”
His eyes pin me in place. “I hope not.”
We stare at each other, a silent agreement passing between us: we’re not going to take this slow.
“Snowman, Mama?” Anna asks between bites of pancake, syrup dripping down her chin.
“Of course, Bug. That sounds like fun.” I force a shiver, half for her amusement, half to shake off the lingering arousal. “We’ll have to bundle up, though. Looks freezing out there.”
Anna turns her hopeful gaze to James, clutching her fork with syrup-sticky fingers. “Unca J, play in snow too?”
Her voice is so full of trust, of certainty that he’ll say yes.
