“Yes. I’d like all the marshmallows, please.”
“You’re very greedy,” she says, leaning down for a kiss. It’s sweet at first—just the barest brush of her lips on mine—but it grows deeper, hotter until I think I might not need that hot chocolate, after all.
Two hours later, we finally make it down the stairs for cocoa, which we fall asleep drinking in front of the fire. I carry Lucy to bed after, but I’m so excited to wake up beside her that I have a hard time nodding off.
When I finally do, I dream of her—a sweet and filthy dream involving my girl wearing a Santa hat and nothing else—that makes me even more grateful to wake to her smile.
“Good morning,” I murmur.
“Hey, there,” she whispers. “I was going to make tomato basil omelets with fresh mozzarella on top, but then I worried that maybe you didn’t like omelets. I know you have firm food preferences, so I came back upstairs to ask.”
“I would love an omelet.” I reach for her. “After I’ve had you for the first course.”
She laughs but shakes her head as she bats my hands away. “I can’t. I’m starving. Someone burned up every bit of fuel in my body last night. My stomach is going to go rogue and start eating my other organs if I don’t get sustenance in me soon.”
I hum thoughtfully and frown. “Sounds awful. Then let’s get you fed, Miss Billings. I’ll wash up and be down to help with coffee and side dishes in five.”
“Perfect.” She leans in, kissing me softly before sliding off the bed with a grin. “See you downstairs, Sexy Boyfriend.”
My chest goes tight with happiness, and I’m pretty sure I’m beaming at her like a love-sick idiot as she leaves the room, but I don’t care. I’ve been falling for Lucy from the moment I met her.
Now I don’t have to fight it anymore. I can let go, give in, and see how far love will take us together.
Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, but I can’t help thinking that this time, the ride isn’t going to end. This time, we might just stay on forever.
I dress and swing into the small bathroom attached to the master to make myself as presentable as possible, leaving my cell on the bedside table.
I’m not as tied to the damned thing as I used to be when the state of the world financial markets was uppermost on my mind every morning. Now I can go hours, even as much as an entire day, without touching my phone. It’s one of my favorite parts about my life in California. I’ve found the slower-paced, simple life I craved when I was a harried broker.
But maybe I’ve grown too complacent, relaxed my vigilance a little too much.
After all, if I’d checked my phone earlier, I would have seen the group text from Wesley Reed to both Lucy and myself, a dangerous-to-my-future missive that reads—Hi, Lucy. After some thought, I decided I should give both you and Mr. Beverly first shot at my ten acres. I know the land is closer to Mr. Beverly’s farm, but I was friends with your grandparents for decades. I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t reach out to you, too. I’m not trying to start a bidding war, so you two can talk it out between you. After you decide how you want to move forward, I’ll work out a fair price with the interested party. I hope you understand why I made this call, Mr. Beverly. I appreciate you being willing to make a decision by the 2nd, but since we’re looping Lucy in on this, why don’t you both take until the 10th to decide. I’m in no rush.
No rush…
Mr. Reed might not be in one, but I am.
Shoving my cell into my pocket and my feet into my shoes, I hurry down the stairs and circle around to the kitchen, but it’s empty. “Lucy?” I call out, heart beating faster. “Lucy? Where are you? We need to talk.”
I turn back, checking the living room where we had cocoa last night, but she isn’t on the couch, and the logs for a fresh fire have been abandoned on the floor beside the stove. I spin back toward the kitchen, but movement outside the front window catches my eye.
It’s Lucy’s truck, pulling out of her parking spot.
Running for the door, I burst out into the frigid morning, waving my arm and calling for her to wait as I hurry down the stairs and across the stiff grass. But she doesn’t wait, she simply flips me the bird through the driver’s side window, swipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, and peels out, sending gravel spraying into the air as she disappears down the drive.