Page 61 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“I was, wasn’t I?” I laugh.

I took the lead at the meeting. Mav was there as the head of the company, but it was my research, my plan, my proposal that brought us over the line. Mr. Manus was charming, an old timer in the industry looking to sell off part of his portfolio as he starts to wind down for retirement, much like Mr. Honeyford. Mr. Manus had brought him up at the meeting, mentioning they used to bowl together every Thursday until Mr. Honeyford moved back to Bear Hills full time. It hadn’t felt as gut-wrenching as I’d expected.

I spoke to my biological father a few weeks ago. He’d made the trip into the city to have dinner with me. Mav had held my hand the entire evening. Mr Honeyford explained about meeting my mother and how they’d slept together before my mom knew he was married, confirming what he wrote in the letter.

A sense of relief had washed through me that she hadn’t known about his wife. And knowing that she had protected me my whole life from the fallout of their night together only made me miss her even more.

I’d left that dinner reassured that whilst I don’t need Hugh Honeyford in my life, I wouldn’t mind the occasional dinner. He did help the B&B after my mom died afterall, even if he never told me it was him.

Once the dinner was out of the way, it was as if I could breathe again. A weight was lifted from my shoulders, and Mav was eager to ensure I settled quickly. Taking on the new job and learning as I go was paramount. That and attempting to ignore the underlying sexual tension that seemed to burst from the seams every time I was within touching distance of Mav was utterly time-consuming. I didn’t have time to think about the shocking revelation from Holly on New Year’s Eve.

The request I made for a year was a goal where the timeline, to be honest, was irrelevant. I wanted to give myself breathing room to focus on the job, focus on building a life that wasn’t completely dependent on Mav and his company. Despite our living together, we’ve stayed in separate rooms, although more than once I’ve found myself at his door, questioning my own resolve. I hadn’t given in, not until his warm palm rested on my lower back before the meeting today. It was like a switch had flipped, foot to the pedal, and before I knew it, Mav’s cum was drying on the inside of my thigh as I shook hands with the man who was going to sell me my first property.

“You were so impressive. He was eating out of your palm by the entrées.” Another kiss, this time his teeth nip at my earlobe as his palm runs up my stomach and between my breasts. My back to his chest, I steady myself by gripping onto the railing. “We’re going to run this town. You and me.”

“I want that.”

“I know, sweetheart. Tell me this is more than business. More than the rush of the sale?”

Spinning around, I wrap my arms around his neck, running the tip of my nose along the slope of his. “Waiting has been excruciating,” I murmur.

“Torturous,” he agrees.

His fingers trail along my jawline.

“Unnecessary.”

Another kiss against my throat.

“Masochistic.”

A laugh huffs out of me as the elevator door dings open. Before I can take a step, he sweeps his hand under me and lifts me off the ground, my fingers clinging to him as I squeal.

“Put me down, you maniac.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“What are you talking about?” I laugh, kicking off my heels as he heads straight past the kitchen and down the corridor to our separate bedrooms. The cat we’ve since named Goose, after I was assured that Mav doesn’t actually have a brother with the same name, skates along the hardwood, threatening to trip Mav up before we make it to his room.

He mutters something under his breath before kicking his bedroom door open, where he promptly throws me on the bed.

“Better.” His grin flashes as he loosens his tie, flicking it out from under his collar and letting it fall to the floor. His shirt is next, and I can’t help but bite my lip as he methodically undoes each button.

“Now who’s being torturous?”

“Shower with me, Indigo. No more waiting, no more painful showers where I fuck my fist, no more using your vibrator on its highest setting just to taunt me. I love you. You sleep in here now. With me. Every night.”

I bite down on my lip, trying to hide the warmth that his words spread through me. “So bossy this evening.”

Slipping off the bed, I begin pawing at his pants, whipping the belt out of the loops with a satisfying smack.

His eyes search mine; a hint of hesitation mars his features until I cup his cheek.

“I’m glad we took a little time to adjust. But I don’t need a year,” I say as he sighs out in relief. “I love you. And it feels as wonderful as it does weird that this is real, and we’ve known each other for less than two months. But I don’t want to fight this anymore. I want you, I want this. Us.”

“I want to tell everyone, Indy. I’m not going to hide you away like a secret. Everyone at work will know by morning.”

And just like that, the tiniest crumb of doubt that had me hesitating disappears. This man wants me openly, publicly, proudly. He’s not going to hide me away. He’s not going to tell me we’ve only been friends with benefits for ten months. This is it; it’s real. We’re real.