Page 37 of A Moon Lake Christmas Hero

It was completely irrational. I didn’t know her. Didn’t know about her past, her dreams, or her life plans. Just knew how she made me feel when I was with her—lighter, more carefree, and protective at the same time. She allowed me to be vulnerable, to be open. Somehow she could see through all the layers and see the real me. Accept the real me. Appreciate the real me. Her presence made me want to show up as the best version of myself.

Do better.

Be better.

But I had no clue how she was feeling. If she was feeling anything more than friendship and camaraderie for me.

Well, since she wanted to cool things off, and given the distance she’d created, she probably wanted nothing to do with me.

So I had my answer even though it wasn’t the one I’d like to hear.

I shook my head, chuckled about my idiocy.

Jumping the gun, much?

And even if she hadn’t retreated. What if we gave this attraction between us a chance? There would’ve been a decent chance of it not working out. And by then, the girls would’ve been used to her, would’ve loved her.

If Erin would leave then, it wouldn’t only break my heart, but the girls’ hearts, as well.

Maybe it was better this way. It was time to create some mental distance of my own. To settle into the idea of a friendship.

Hadn’t I learned that lesson already?

You couldn’t force someone to stay. To love. To prioritize you over everything else.

I shook off all those unwanted feelings muddling my thoughts.

It was time to move on.

Not only in my actions but also to squash those inner hopes and dreams.

I just had to tell her—set her free.

I’d hired Jackson, an old teammate of Peter and Blake, who’d just moved here and started a construction company in town, to have a look at the old farmhouse I owned. And when Jackson had come back with the all-clear yesterday, I’d cleaned up the place and fixed what needed fixing—with the help of my parents. Talk about a couple of hours of discomfort and more raised eyebrows and unasked questions than I cared for.

But the house was close to Alan’s, so she could just cross over to go to work. And Alan could keep an eye on her.

Though she would be too far away for my comfort.

At least she wouldn’t need to use her car, even though it was in tiptop shape now—after Bailey fixed it.

Which caused our second big fight. The first one was when I bought her a new car—which she refused straight out and chewed me out on. She accused me of overstepping, trying to run her life, which she did not appreciate.

At all.

I grinned at the memory. At least then the emptiness in her eyes had been replaced by fire.

I gave her that one and backed off. No new car for her. But if she’d thought I would let her drive around in that safety risk of a car, she’d been thoroughly mistaken. I had it overhauled by Bailey—not the cosmetics but everything else.

And when she’d found out, she’d stormed into my mayor’s office and wanted a fucking payment plan—in writing—which I refused straight out. The way she was panting, leaning against my desk, growling at me.

It took every inch of strength to hold back, to not grab her and take her right there against my desk.

She’d sensed my desire, my self-control, hanging on by a thread. I could see it in her eyes, the way her gaze swept over my body. The way she closed her eyes, sighed, then shook her head and left without another word.

That fight had led to us being at the impasse we were right now. And we’d avoided the topic of her car altogether.

Even though nothing was solved.

---