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Collins is here. The hospital took his leg, but I’m sure you already know that. I’m hoping things are going as well for him as it is for me.
Life is rough. I’m sitting on my keister in front of a fireplace, she’s upstairs sleeping, and I’m watching the snowfall. Three things I never thought I would say four months ago.
Hope all is well, sir.
Thank you again,
Ortega
Clicking send, he sighed, closed his eyes and heard the first faint snore from above.
“My own little lumberjack,” he smiled.
* * *
Getting up early the next morning, Jake started the coffee and was determined to get their path shoveled out. He opened the blinds and looked out to see a snow drift almost halfway up the side of the window glass.
“Well, that’s not going to work,” he muttered – and immediately moved toward the other side of the cabin, breathing a sigh of relief. As long as the front door wasn’t blocked as well, they’d be fine.
Hesitating, he was tiptoeing toward the front door and sliding into his coat when he heard Lena’s voice.
“Going somewhere?” she said in a voice gravelly from sleep.
“I’m making sure that we can go into town.”
“Jake, even if the van gets cleared out, it’s going to take time to plow the roads and…”
“Lena, I know,” he said tightly and then turned to look at her. She was lying up there, her hand resting on the railing, with one eyebrow arched at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well and…”
“And…?”
“You really don’t want me saying the words aloud,” he said, feeling embarrassed. “Let’s just say that I’m really looking forward to the rest of our lives.”
“Let’s have some coffee together and let the sun help melt the snow.”
He sighed heavily – and shrugged off his coat.
“I know you are right,” he admitted.
“But it’s so…” she drawled knowingly, taunting him.
Jake gave her a flat look, pressing his lips together as she smiled widely at his obvious frustration. He was fun to tease, and if he was going to do it to her - then what was good for the goose, was good for the gander, too.
“… Tough,” she finished innocently. “My goodness. I was going to say ‘tough,’ and your mind is in the gutter, my dear Pudding.”
“Buried there… and drowning in straight filth,” he muttered, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I can’t help it. I’m a mess and can’t stop thinking about holding or touching you. It’s called ‘making love’ for a reason… and…”
“I wouldn’t change a thing,” she smiled. “Now, you have two options. You can go out there, shovel the snow that will melt or get cleared eventually, and be frustrated the whole time.”
“Or?” he said bluntly. “And don’t even suggest it because I already told you no once, and I’m trying to do the right thing by my soon-to-be-wife. Don’t torture me. I’d rather break a rib again.”
“Or you can hold me close, have coffee with me, kiss me senseless, and cuddle while letting your filthy imagination run wild – and not acting upon it.”
“It’s pretty filthy,” he chuckled, looking at her.
“I have no doubt,” she grinned.
“You sure have gotten sassy since we met,” he smiled. “You want your coffee?”
