Page 15 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
"Probably." Kade stays by the tree, adding the last string of lights. "It's getting dark."
"Mmm." I watch the fireplace, the flames hypnotic. "Just five more minutes."
"Take your time."
The warmth seeps into my bones, the stress of the day catching up with me. Just five more minutes turns into ten, then fifteen.
The last thing I remember is Kade's voice saying something about more lights, soft and distant.
When I surface briefly, someone's draped a blanket over me. The cabin is quiet except for the crackling fire. Through half-closed eyes, I see Kade sitting in the chair across from me, his face illuminated by his laptop screen.
He looks up, catches me watching. "Go back to sleep, Christmas angel."
I should go home to my own bed.
Instead, I burrow deeper into the blanket that smells like cedar and pine and pull the soft fleece up to my chin, drifting back under to dreams of mountain peaks that have nothing to do with Deepwood.
CHAPTER 4
KADE
I've been awake since five, which is three hours earlier than necessary and a pretty clear sign that I'm losing my goddamn mind.
To pass the time, I drank an entire pot of coffee, reorganized the ornament boxes by colorgradientinstead of just color, and replay yesterday's hot chocolate incident approximately forty-three times.
Nia’s fingers trailing down my abs.
The way her breath caught when she saw my piercings.
How close I came to saying “fuck it” and backing her against that counter.
The only thing that stopped me was remembering our age difference, the fact that I hired her to decorate this cabin, and that I was going to go back to Colorado once Christmas was over.
And well, she deserves someone who isn't carrying around the kind of appetites that make most women run.
So I did the right thing.
Stepped back.
Put on a clean shirt.
And spent the rest of the afternoon keeping myself in check while she bent and stretched and laughed, completely obliviousto how badly I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her upstairs.
She fell asleep on my couch around five-thirty, curled up under the blanket like she’d done it a hundred times.
I tried to work. Really I did. But I kept getting distracted by those soft sounds she made, and how sweet and peaceful she looked.
When she woke up, she was adorably disoriented, apologizing profusely while I assured her it was fine.
Morethan fine, actually, but I couldn't tell her that.
I did insist she text when she got home safe.
And she did.
Made it!
Thanks for letting me nap. That couch is ridiculously comfortable. Also, you're a really good cook. And, I might have stolen a cookie for the road. Okay three cookies. Goodnight Deputy Giles!
