Page 74 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
“Yeah, but you spent hours fixing it. This just took me the amount of time it took me to find the deed in Dad’s office.” She leaned against him, closing her eyes in bliss. Warm air from the heater washed over her, and Jace’s body was just as warm against hers. “I know this is a lot. Maybe too much. If you don’t want to stay?—”
“Holly.” He kissed her again, deep and lingering. “I don’t ever want to move away. Not if I can be here. If you want me here.”
“More than anything.” She gazed up into his eyes. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, and kissed her again.
A long time later, they lay sleepily entwined under the heavy warmth of the covers in the loft. Jace murmured, “Your dad never considered selling off the cottages to pay for the farm’s bills?”
“No,” Holly said quietly. Tucked up against him, so burrowed down that her voice was slightly muffled, shecould think of nowhere else she’d rather be. “It all reminds him of Mom too much.”
“But he gave it to you, and you’re offering it to me.”
“We want you to stay,” Holly whispered.
“I do too,” he said quietly, his breath ghosting over her hair. “I do too.”
JACE
In the softgray light of dawn, they walked down the hill hand in hand through six inches of fresh, fluffy snow. Holly kicked it aside with her boots, sweeping her feet through the light fluff with a considering air.
“It’s enough we probably should plow, but not enough that you can’t drive in it,” she remarked. “And it’s not like anyone’s going to be coming out to the farm today, at least we don’t expect anybody. I don’t see why we can’t all just stay inside and enjoy our white Christmas.”
Jace had come to understand by now that the Porters were early risers, and so he wasn’t surprised when they opened the door to crisply delicious frying smells and the sound of a Christmas movie on the TV. Kaden was sprawled in a nest of pillows in front of the TV, ignoring the colorful cartoon characters while digging through the haul from his stocking.
There were a few sharp barks from Rocket, and Cupcake came running to dance around Holly’s feet as if he hadn’t seen her in a year instead of for one night. Holly scooped him up and they went on into the kitchen, where the Colonelwas wearing a holiday apron, with a Santa hat perched jauntily on top of his large square head, and flipping pancakes. By now Jace had learned not to underestimate the man, but that was still a sight to behold.
“Mornin’,” he greeted them, as casually if they hadn’t just come in from clearly spending the night together. “Grab some coffee.”
“I hope you made it strong, because I need it,” Noelle said, lurching into the kitchen in her bathrobe. “I forgot how early everyone gets up here. And that’s even without the unholy terror bouncing on my stomach twenty times last night asking me if it’s Christmas yet. I’m really regretting that second glass of wine now. Load me up.”
She grabbed a large mug from the dish drain and thrust it hopefully in the direction of the coffeepot. Jace poured it full, then filled cups for himself and Holly, and added one of the hazelnut creamers he had noticed Holly liked. She gave him a nod of thanks and took her cup.
Noelle, meanwhile, was putting in enough sugar and creamer that Jace couldn’t imagine she could taste much coffee underneath it all.
“Oh, wonderful,” she said after a long gulp, eyes closed. “I may live.”
There was a happy squeal and a crash from the living room.
“Or not!” Noelle yelped, and hurried out of the room, taking her coffee with her.
Holly went out to the barn to feed the chickens, accompanied by the dogs, and Jace offered to help with breakfast. The Colonel put him to work mixing more pancake batter from a recipe in a neatly organized binder.
“Holly gave me her present last night,” Jace said. “The more I think about it, the more overwhelmed I am. You don’t have to hold to it, sir, if you change your mind.”
“Nonsense,” the Colonel snorted. “Those houses have been standing empty for years, barring an occasional guest. I’d love to see someone living up there full time.”
The kitchen door slammed inward and Holly stood there, holding the basket she usually used for collecting eggs.
“Dad,” she said, holding up the basket, which had a bow on it. “What’s this?”
The Colonel flushed. “Your Christmas present, honey.”
There wasn’t just one dog sweater in the basket. There were several, all of varying degrees of lumpiness and slightly different sizes.
“Are these for Cupcake?” Holly laughed, sorting through them. “You must’ve cleaned out the dog section at the holiday bazaar. Dad, this is .... unraveling,” she murmured, picking at a loose end. “Okay, you definitely need to get your money back.”
The Colonel muttered something under his breath.
