Page 102 of Beastly Mountain Man

I pulled back laughing. “Perfect timing.”

He laughed as I slipped away.

While Lucky showered and changed out of his work clothes, I pulled the potatoes from the oven and set them on the stove. I knew which cabinet held the serving dishes without opening three wrong doors first. My charger was plugged into the outlet beside the bookshelf. Two production notebooks shared a lower shelf with Lucky’s repair manuals and cookbooks. On the wall above the small console table, a framed photograph of the two of us sat among the Ramsey family pictures that had been there long before I arrived.

The heavy beams, solid furniture, and big old table with marks that no amount of polish would erase were unchanged. A soft lamp glowed beside the couch where there hadn’t been one before. The windows held simple winter greenery and tiny white lights. My favorite throw was folded over one arm of Lucky’s chair, and a shallow ceramic bowl we’d chosen together sat in the middle of the table holding pinecones and evergreen clipped from outside.

Lucky came back in a dark T-shirt and gray sweats, his hair still damp from the shower. He crossed straight to the stove, lifted the lid from the pan he’d prepared earlier, checked the chicken, and leaned down to smell the herbs and garlic.

“Five more minutes,” he said.

“I was close.” I carried the green beans to the counter beside him. “Tell me when you need something.”

Lucky looked over his shoulder, smiling. “I will.”

For a while, dinner happened around us without needing much conversation. I handed him what he asked for. He finished the chicken and sauce. I set the table and poured water. Outside, the snow thickened over the dark yard, catching the small lights along the porch rail. A few flakes struck the glass and melted almost immediately.

Lucky reached past me for a serving spoon and brushed a kiss against my temple on the way.

“You’re in my path,” he murmured.

“You have an entire kitchen.”

“I like this part of it.”

I turned in his arms. “That sounds suspiciously like an excuse.”

“It is.”

His kiss started gentle and changed when I slid my palms under the hem of his shirt. Lucky made a quiet sound against my mouth and pulled me closer, his body warm and solid against mine.

The sauce began to bubble behind him.

I laughed and pressed my forehead to his chest. “Your dinner is trying to save itself.”

“It has good instincts.”

He turned the burner down without letting go of me.

We ate at the table instead of the counter. Lucky poured us each a glass of wine, and I took seconds on the potatoes without waiting for him to offer.

By the time we finished, the windows had gone completely black except for the reflections of the room behind us. Snow gathered along the lower panes. Bear slept near the stove, one enormous paw stretched across the edge of the rug.

Lucky cleared the plates while I carried the glasses to the sink.

“You’re leaving Wednesday morning?” he asked.

“For the location shoot. I should be back Friday afternoon unless the weather changes.” I leaned against the counter. “I protected Saturday, too. I didn’t schedule anything that requires me to be somewhere else.”

Lucky glanced at me while he rinsed a plate. “Good. I’m off.”

“I know. We have two days together before I leave, three nights after I come back, and I’m working remotely Monday.”

His shoulder bumped mine as he handed me a plate. “Sounds good to me.”

I dried the plate and set it in the cabinet.

Later, we moved to the couch with the rest of the wine. Lucky stretched out beside me, one arm along the back cushion while I tucked my feet beneath his thigh. Music played softly from the speaker near the bookshelf. The white lights reflected in the windows, doubling themselves against the snow outside.