Page 38 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
And the ease of that feeling terrifies the fuck out of me.
The next twenty-fourhours have been a fever dream. I wasn’t sure how we’d interact the next morning when I woke to find her in my arms. Leave it to Violet to steer us easily into comfortable territory. I almost went into my head and pulled away, but she wouldn’t let me.
We made breakfast, and I headed to work. Last night, I got home to dinner cooking in this pot she brought with her from home.
“You’ve never used an InstantPot?” she asked. At my bewildered expression, she laughed, and that piercing pain is like a tattoo; it hurts, but is worth the torture in the end.
Violet cupped my cheek, still laughing, pressed a sweet kiss on my bearded cheek, and continued what she was doing.
I wanted her again. I wanted her when we woke up, I wanted her when she bent over to grab a pan for breakfast, I wanted her when I came home…I’ve wanted her. She’s my newest addiction that I’m fighting. Not very hard.
Last night, we fell into bed and she boldly reached for me. I was powerless to draw a line.
It’s now Thursday, and I’m done with work. This morning was much like yesterday. Living with Violet has been the easiest transition. But at work, I’m distracted all day, chopping and harvesting trees. I’ve been in my head. I’ve tried to list all the reasons we should keep each other at arm’s length when we’re alone. Lines are blurring.
I walk in the house and tug my boots off. Cinnamon, vanilla, and peppermint scents assault me. The house feels warm, in that pleasant way that feels like a hug. My memory tickles. I pause in the foyer, knowing something is different.
I open the front door again and see it. A large Christmas wreath hangs against it. Closing the cold away, I clock the details now. Walking further into the house, my eyes dart to every change. Christmas decorations. My wife has been busy today. Christmas threw up in my house.
“Hey,” she comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands. “What do you think?”
“Um,” I look around. Red, white, green, everywhere. “Where did this all come from?”
“Oh. I made an order two days ago. They arrived shortly after you left for work, and I couldn’t wait. I want the girls to be surprised when they get here tomorrow.” She walks up to me and kisses my cheek, pulling my coat off. “How was work?”
This domestic picture is tripping me out. I’m half loving this, half freaking out.
“Long. Cold. Productive,” I answer, walking into the dining room toward the kitchen.
“Do you hate it?” she asks, hovering at the open frame leading in from the living room to the dining room.
I don’t want her second-guessing. This was a sweet gesture for the girls. I step closer, shaking my head. “Just gonna take a minute to get used to.”
“You never grew up with Christmas decorations?” she asks, tilting her head in curiosity.
When I don’t answer, not sure how much to share, she walks over and wraps her arms loosely around my neck. My body stills. Those delicate fingers tipped with short, clean nails play with the longer ends of my hair at my neck.
“Is this okay?” she asks, vulnerability shining in her wide blue eyes.
I hold her waist, bringing her closer. “Yeah,” my voice rasps. I can’t deny her anything. She doesn’t know it, but I’d give her the world if she asked for it.
“You think the girls will like the house?”
Squeezing her waist, I nod. “They’re going to love it.” Wanting her to know me, understand me more, I share, “With how I grew up, holidays weren’t really a thing. Never decorated a tree, never trick or treated for Halloween, none of it.”
Her frown isn’t pity, instead, she almost looks angry on my behalf. “You deserved that and more, Hud.”
“I get to give that to my girls, though, Goldie. That means way more.”
“I love how you love them,” she says softly, and my heart beats stutter. I almost thought she was going to say something else. Something wild. Three words that would be insane and are dangerous to even want.
“How was your day?” I ask, embracing this moment of intimacy.
“I turned in my piece for the newspaper, checked in on dad, left him some groceries and meals in the freezer, then came back home. Here,” she quickly amends.
“Home,” I insist. I look at all the decorations, the snowflakes hanging at different levels on the ceiling, and the bare tree in the corner. “And you still had time to do all this?”
Her soft laugh is a sound I want to live in. I wrap my arms around her back and hold her flush to my body. She melts into me. “I’m efficient.”
