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He did a double-take, then leaned in and looked at the people again. “Oh my God, it is! How did you never show me this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I thought it was too corny? And it wasn’t even Christmas when I made it. So it went into a box. I forgot about it until we were going through those things.” She leaned her chin against his knee and tapped her fingertip against the glass. “We’re walking a dog in it.”
“It looks like the woods at the back of the farm.”
She nodded. “That’s exactly where I set us, I think. Even back then, I think I knew I wanted this to be a part of our life.”
“It’s amazing.” He slid his fingers into her hair and tugged, tipping her mouth up so he could lean over and kiss her.
She kissed him back, then rose on her knees.
He set the snow globe aside and pulled her onto his lap. Legs spread. Hands everywhere.
“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips.
“So much,” she whispered back.
And then there was no talking, only kissing, and touching, and then moving together. Slowly. Faster. Fastest. Hard, at the end, his grip tight on her hips, his mouth on her neck.
Her hands in his hair, holding him to her. Holding on tight, forever.
Perfect.
FOREVER AND EVER, THE END
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What to Read Next
An excerpt from Where Their Hearts Collide (a Wardham novel)
IT was a shame the guy next door was so rude. If he smiled, he’d probably be drop-dead gorgeous. If he smiled, that might mean she finally had his attention.
Karen peeked out the corner of her eye at the post-war bungalow on the other side of her driveway. The shared driveway. A mirror image of her house, with dark red brick and pretty white trim. A wide front porch—his was bare, except for a broom. Hers had her beloved bicycle in a place of honour, and a comfortable wicker conversation set decorated with navy cushions.
Between their houses sat his sensible four door sedan. Now it was awkward. Should have told him the first time.
She’d come home from work three weeks ago to find the house next to hers no longer vacant. Her standard welcome-to-the-street spiel had died on her lips as the new resident jogged out the door and straight past her, as if she hadn’t been standing next to his front walk. Technically on the sidewalk, but her intent to greet him had been clear. Hadn’t it?
That was followed by two more non-meetings, which chafed her because she liked to be known as a friendly person. Forcing her neighbour to have a conversation crossed a line into needy. She’d been looking for a natural opening to a conversation. Now she needed to make it happen.
April was around the corner, and her Camaro was calling to be let loose on the road. As soon as the last threat of snow passed, she’d need to use the shared driveway to get 304 horsepower of Victory Red awesomeness onto the roads. Hard to do with his fuel-efficient safetymobile in the way.
So she was killing time in her front yard, pretending to tidy her flower beds, planning the best way to ambush a stranger. Not her finest moment.
Since he’d been home all day, he was probably going to leave soon. He worked shifts, leaving either early in the morning or around dinner time, and was often gone for the better part of a day.
She felt like a stalker, but really, he hadn’t left her any choice. And it’s not like she’d gone through his mail or trash. She really didn’t know anything about him except for his schedule and where he parked. And that he had single-handedly increased the hot quotient of Wardham by 1000%. She didn’t even know how old he was, although she guessed around her age, maybe a little bit older. No way would a guy in his twenties drive that car.
Two bags of twigs later, because pretending to work had turned into actually gardening, his front door opened. She stood, stretching her back before moving to intercept him before he could get to his car. “Hi! You must be my new neighbour.” She offered her hand before remembering she was covered in dirt, and quickly converted the gesture to a wave. “Karen Miller.”
He nodded, and stepped around her to put his duffle bag in the trunk.
“So, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, if you can spare a second?”
Another nod, and a raised eyebrow.
Karen paused a beat, then continued. “The driveway. It’s actually a shared lane.”
