Page 32 of Mountain Man Grinch
But the one that makes my throat close is near the middle.
It’s a photo ornament, rough, like it was thrown together overnight. Inside is a picture Mateo must’ve sent—me sandwiched between Callie and Mateo on their wedding day, all of us laughing, hair blowing in the wind. Someone—Davin, probably—has writtenFamilyacross the bottom in blocky black Sharpie.
My eyes sting. “You did this?”
“Wolfe printed it,” Davin says. “I just stuck it in a frame.”
“Stop downplaying,” I sniffle. “It’s perfect.”
“Good,” he says, quiet, pleased.
Gus toddles to the tree and noses toward his stocking.
Davin groans. “Fine. You can open yours first, gremlin.”
I grin. “You got him a present?”
“Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, reaching up to unhook the tiny stocking. Inside are a rubber squeak toy shaped like a snowman and a tiny bag of fancy dog treats.
Gus goes feral over the squeaker immediately, launching into a vigorous murder-shake that sends it squealing around the room.
Davin watches him, deadpan. “If he squeaks that during dinner, I’m feeding him to Wolfe.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I say, bumping his hip with mine. “He’s your son now.”
“That’s slander.”
“Legally binding,” I counter. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Santa does.”
“Santa can fight me,” he grumbles.
I glance up pointedly.
He frowns. “What?”
“Mistletoe,” I say.
His eyes follow mine to the little green sprig hanging from the ceiling beam directly above us, tied with a red ribbon.
He sighs, defeated. “Callie again.”
“Smart woman,” I say smugly.
“Yeah?” He steps in closer, crowding me back toward the tree until my shoulders brush low branches. “You know what I told her when she suggested it?”
“What?” My voice comes out softer than I intend.
“That it was unnecessary.” His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I don’t need an excuse to kiss you.”
Heat blooms under my skin.
“Then, you should probably do it,” I whisper, “before Gus squeaks the moment away.”
Right on cue, the snowman toy shrieks from near the couch.
Davin’s mouth curves, wolfish and tender all at once. “Copy that.”
His kiss is deeper this time, his hand cupping the back of my neck, the other splaying warm and solid at my lower back. The world outside—cartels, storms, scars—fades into background noise. There’s only this man, this cabin, this life I never saw coming and never want to lose.
