Page 32 of Christmas With The Broken Mountain Man
"She looks incredible in green," I offer, recalling how the color brings out the gold flecks in her hazel eyes.
Sylvie nods approvingly. "A man who notices. Rare specimen, this one. Hang onto him."
Destiny's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "I plan to."
While Sylvie pulls dresses for Destiny to try, I scan the street through the boutique windows, hyperaware of our surroundings. No sign of the black Escalade or anyone paying unusual attention to the shop.
"Earth to Mason." Destiny's voice draws me back. "What do you think?"
She stands before me in an emerald-green dress that hugs her curves before flaring at the knees. The neckline reveals just enough cleavage to be enticing without crossing into inappropriate for a community event. She's stunning.
"Wow," is all I can manage.
Sylvie smirks. "I think that's a yes."
"Definitely yes." I finally find my voice. "You're beautiful."
A blush colors Destiny's cheeks. "It's not too much?"
"It's perfect." I cross to her, lowering my voice. "Though I'm going to be fighting off every man in town tonight."
She laughs, the sound easing some of my tension. "Good thing I only have eyes for one."
The admission, spoken casually but with genuine emotion, hits me hard. We're so far beyond pretending, beyond the cover story that brought us together. This is real, whatever name we give it.
Back at the cabin, we spend the afternoon in comfortable domesticity. I catch up on paperwork while Destiny bakes cookies for the party. The scene is so perfectly ordinary, so exactly what I never knew I wanted, that it makes my chest ache.
"What's that look for?" she asks, catching me watching her across the kitchen island.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"How right you look here." The words escape before I can censor them. "In my kitchen. In my life."
Her expression softens. "It feels right to me too."
The moment is weighted with implications neither of us is quite ready to voice. But I see the truth in her eyes, the same certainty I feel growing in my own heart.
As we get ready for the party that evening, I struggle to reconcile the conflicting emotions within me. On one hand, fierce protectiveness and lingering concern about Greg's associate in town. On the other, profound joy at the sight of Destiny in her green dress, excitement about introducing her to more of my community, and the deepening certainty that what we've found together is something rare and precious.
"You clean up nice, Walsh," she comments as I finish buttoning my shirt, dark blue, as she requested, with charcoal slacks and a gray blazer.
"Not too shabby yourself, Brooks." I pull her close for a kiss, careful not to smudge her lipstick. "Ready to dazzle Whisper Vale?"
She loops her arms around my neck. "Ready to dance with my very handsome fake fiancé who's starting to feel a lot like a real one."
The candid admission steals my breath. She holds my gaze, letting me see the vulnerability behind her words. This is Destiny at her most authentic, laying her heart open despite the fear of rejection.
I cup her face in my hands. "Nothing about how I feel about you is fake. Not anymore."
Her eyes shine with emotion. "Me neither."
It's not quite a declaration of love, but it's a step in that direction, an acknowledgment that whatever began as pretense has transformed into something genuine and profound.
As we head to the party, I silently promise both of us that this is just the beginning. That tonight is not just a performance for the town or a distraction from danger, but a celebration of what we're building together.
And if Greg or his associates dare to threaten that, they'll learn exactly what I'm capable of when protecting someone I love.
