Page 38 of The Mountain Man's Fake Christmas Bride
"If it was, I'm clearly a genius." I press a kiss to her hair. "But no. This is better than anything I could have planned."
"Agreed." She looks up at me, love shining in her eyes. "Merry Christmas, husband."
"Merry Christmas, wife." The words feel right. Perfect. True.
Around us, our friends and family celebrate, turning what began as a deception into a genuine moment of joy. Ridge raises his glass in a toast, Colt and Jax flanking him with identical grins. The women gather around Jennifer, admiring her ring and sharing in her happiness. Even little Chellie dances with abandon, twirling in circles to the music.
Outside, the mountains stand silent witness to our unlikely beginning. Inside, wrapped in each other's arms and surrounded by the people who matter most, we celebrate the greatest gift ofall. A love neither of us expected, but both of us now cherish above all else.
The mountain man and his no longer fake Christmas bride. Together, for real, for always.
EPILOGUE
JEN
TWO YEARS LATER
"Do you think we need more lights on the porch?" I stand back, assessing the magical Christmas land our cabin has become. Evergreen garlands with twinkling white lights wrap every railing. A towering pine stands in the corner of the great room, ornaments catching the late afternoon sunlight through the floor to ceiling windows. Stockings hang from the stone fireplace, including the tiny new one that makes my heart skip every time I see it.
Jared emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "If you add any more lights, they'll be able to see our house from space."
"Perfect." I grin at him. "That's exactly the visibility Santa needs."
He wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on top of my head. "You're nesting."
"I'm decorating for Christmas," I correct, though he's not wrong. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" His hands slide to my rounded belly, cradling the seven month bump that houses our daughter. "Because this is the third time you've rearranged the lights this week."
"I want everything to be perfect for her first Christmas." I cover his hands with mine, feeling the gentle flutter of movement beneath our joined fingers. "Even if she's still on the inside for it."
"She'll have plenty of Christmases in this cabin." He presses a kiss to my temple. "And her mother will undoubtedly go overboard for each one."
"It's not going overboard. It's creating traditions."
His laugh rumbles against my back, warm and familiar. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Calloway."
Two years of marriage, and I still get a little thrill whenever he calls me that. Mrs. Calloway. The fake wife who became a real one on a snowy Christmas Eve night.
So much has changed since then. My graphic design business has expanded, with clients now including several major outdoor brands thanks to Jared's industry connections. I've published a series of illustrated guidebooks to the Sierra Nevadas that have become bestsellers in the regional tourism market. And I've completely taken over the upstairs bedroom nearest ours, transforming it into a nursery that's equal parts woodland fairytale and practical baby space.
Jared has changed too. He still runs The Outpost, but now he actually interacts with customers. Teaches wilderness survival classes twice a month. Even joined the town's emergency response committee, putting his firefighting experience to use in a way that doesn't trigger the old trauma. The walls he built around himself have come down brick by brick, revealing the man I always knew existed beneath the gruff exterior.
"What time is everyone arriving?" he asks, reluctantly releasing me to check on whatever amazing thing he's cooking in the kitchen. His hidden culinary talents have become legendary in Whisper Vale, with people regularly bribing me to get his secret venison stew recipe.
"Six." I follow him, snagging a slice of cucumber from the cutting board. "Ridge and Stella are bringing Chellie and the baby. Mason and Destiny are coming with Dr. Matthews. And Chloe threatened to bring her new boyfriend, so prepare for that interrogation."
"Great." He doesn't sound thrilled about the last part. My husband has become surprisingly protective of his employees over the past two years. "I'll have the rifle cleaning kit out."
"You will not." I bump him with my hip or try to. The baby bump makes it more of a belly nudge these days. "You'll be nice to Chloe's boyfriend because she's happy and that's what matters."
"Fine." He pulls a tray of something that smells divine from the oven. "But if he hurts her, all bets are off."
"Noted." I steal a roasted potato from the edge of the tray, earning a mock glare. "What? Your daughter is hungry."
"My daughter, is it? Funny how she's my daughter when you're stealing food but your daughter when she's doing somersaults at two in the morning."
"That's how it works." I pop the potato in my mouth, savoring the rosemary and garlic flavor. "Joint custody, husband. You get the blame, I get the cravings."
