Page 11 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
"This is real," I say, needing him to understand. "What's happening between us. It's not just the storm or Christmas magic. It's real."
"I know," he says, and this time his voice carries certainty instead of doubt. "I've never felt anything like this, Dove. It scares the hell out of me."
A crash from the main room followed by guilty giggles sends us springing apart.
"We should check on them," Tannon says, though his eyes never leave my face.
"Yeah." I smooth my hair, trying to look like I haven't just been thoroughly kissed. "But Tannon?"
"Yeah?"
"This conversation isn't over."
He smiles. "I'm counting on it."
6
Tannon
The kids crash hard after lunch, exhausted from their morning of fort-building and elaborate games. Bentley falls asleep first, curled in a nest of blankets by the fire, while Mia follows soon after, her head on his shoulder. They look peaceful, trusting that the adults will keep them safe.
The sight of them sleeping so peacefully in this small cabin tugs at something deep in my chest. These kids have been shuffled between hired help their entire lives, always wondering if the adults around them actually want them there.
But here, right now, they're just kids being kids.
Dove moves quietly around the cabin, cleaning up lunch remnants. She's changed into one of my spare flannel shirts – sleeves rolled up, hem brushing her thighs.
The thought hits me harder than it should: I don't want this to end.
Not just the storm, not just this forced proximity. I don't want Dove to walk out of my life when the roads clear. I don't want togo back to my empty cabin, my careful solitude, my half-life of existing instead of living.
For three years, I've told myself that alone is safer. But watching Dove with these kids, seeing her fierce protectiveness, I'm starting to think my brother Danny had it right: some risks are worth taking.
"What are you thinking about," Dove says softly, settling into the chair across from me.
I lean forward, suddenly needing to close the distance between us. "I'm thinking about what happens when this storm ends."
She tips her head. "What about it?"
"I'm thinking I don't want you to leave."
The words hang between us, raw and honest. Dove's breath catches. "Tannon."
"I know it's crazy. I know we barely know each other, I know your life is complicated with the Ashfords and your career plans. But I can't pretend anymore that this is just about the storm."
"What is it about?" she asks.
"It's about the way you look at those kids like they’re the whole world, even though their parents treat them like inconveniences. It's about how you turn disappointment into adventure. It's about how you saw past my walls to something worth caring about."
I stand, needing to move, but there's nowhere to go in the small cabin. "It's about how I've been living half a life for three years, and you walked into my maintenance shed and made me remember what it feels like to be whole."
Dove rises too, her hands reaching for me. "I feel it too. This thing between us. It's real, and it's terrifying, and I don't know what to do with it."
"I do." The certainty in my voice surprises us both. "I know exactly what I want to do with it."
"What's that?"
Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us, my hands framing her face. "I want to love you, Dove Williams. I want to love you completely, without reservation. I want to build a life with you. Areallife full of pancake breakfasts and bedtime stories and all the beautiful chaos that comes with caring about someone more than your own safety."
