She suspects I’m dating somebody. I don’t know what she’d say if she knew it was Cassie. My parents warned me away when I was eighteen and again a few years later. In their eyes, Cassie is delicate and fragile. But she’s not. She’s a strong woman who’s built a thriving business. She’s carved out a good life for herself. She’s incredible and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life showing her that.
She glances around the kitchen, like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. She’s still new to this. We both are, but I want my place to feel like her place in the coming weeks. Because by this time next year, I want her wearing my ring and carrying my baby in her belly. Just the thought fills me with anticipation.
“Let me show you around,” I say casually. She’s only been in here once before when I was first moving in. She helped carry some of my stuff from my parents’ place to this house.
“Kitchen, obviously,” I point behind myself before I walk through the dining room. It has the table and chairs I ordered from her.
“You kept this.” She gives a self-conscious laugh.
Before she made wooden toys, she thought she wanted to make furniture to sell. I was her first customer. I ordered a custom dining set that I love just because she made it. She pored hours of work and dedication into these pieces.
“This is dreadful craftsmanship,” she complains as she runs her fingers along the back of a chair that wobbles no matter how many times I fix it. “You should give it away or sell it on one of those marketplace apps. Get yourself something better.”
“It’s a custom piece,” I answer. “And it’s special to me.”
She looks up at me, a blush stealing across her cheeks. Fuck, I want to kiss her again. I want to devour her, but I promised myself I’d take this slow. I said I’d give her lots of time and if I kiss her now, the last thing I’ll be thinking about is giving her more time.
“Show me the rest of the house, you big softie,” she says in that teasing tone. I like it when she teases me. I like the way it makes her eyes sparkle.
She pauses in the living room when she sees the big Christmas tree. Most of the trees grown here at the ranch are Fraser Firs. It’s the tree that ninety percent of Christmas tree farmers grow in the state.
But the one in my living room is a Carolina Sapphire. Once I learned they were Cassie’s favorite, I made sure we started growing them. They’re different than our usual product. The needles look more blue than green, and the trees smell of minty citrus.
Micah wasn’t too sure about investing in them at first but they’re becoming in demand across the South. Not that I can say it was a business decision I made with my head. I just wanted things around the ranch that gave my girl a reason to smile.
“It’s incredible,” she whispers and reaches out to touch the branches.
“I’m still working on growing them,” I explain. It takes years to grow Christmas trees. People think you just plop one down in the ground and five minutes later, you’ve got a tree. No, when you’re planting Christmas trees, you’re playing the long game. It could be years before they’re the right size to harvest. Granted, this particular type grows rapidly but I’m still not ready to bring them to market until I know we’ve got everything optimized for them. “We’re hoping to start selling them in the next three years.”
I gesture toward the boxes of decorations in the floor by my couch. That was something else I liberated from my parents’ place. They have hundreds of decorations, more than they can ever use each year. But they’re constantly sharing them with friends and family, so I took a few. I looked for things that would make Cassie happy. “Could use some help decorating it.”
She tugs off her coat and tosses it to the couch. “Let’s start with the lights.”
I bought about a million of them all in different colors. I have big bulbs and little ones. I have white lights and colored lights. I have ones that blink and can be controlled with your cellphone.
We spend the next hour, decorating the tree as her favorite Christmas movie plays in the background. It’s some love story that always makes her misty-eyed. But I don’t care what she plays as long as we’re together.
“What was your favorite Christmas?” I ask her after we finish hanging the final strand of lights. She went with the ones that blink all different colors, saying they look best with this type of tree.
She shakes her head. “You go first.”
I don’t even have to think about it. There’s one celebration that stands out among all of them for me. It’s the one that changed my life, the one where I gave away my heart. “The Christmas you came to live with us.”
She looks up at me, tears springing to her eyes. “Really?”
“I fell in love that year.” I’ve never been the same since.
All those years and I didn’t understand why my dad always said that falling in love changes how you see everything. Then I fell in love with Cassie and suddenly, I did understand. Because you stop being the most important person in your world.
Suddenly, that space belongs to the person you care about. Their dreams, hopes, and joy become central to your own happiness, and you’d do anything for them. The way I’d do anything just to make Cassie happy.
“It was my favorite Christmas too,” she admits.
Then I’m kissing her again. My hands are everywhere, trying to feel every inch of her curvy body, the way I’ve always longed to. My fingers tangle in her hair before skimming down her and gripping her round ass. She swings her legs around my waist, and I carry her to the couch. The entire time, she’s pressing kisses to my face and neck, anywhere she can get those pouty lips.
I sit with her in my lap and instantly reach for the buttons on her shirt. Fuck, it’s been killing me since she walked in the house. I’ve been wondering what color her bra is and what kind she likes to wear. Is it those plain serviceable ones? Something with satin or lace? I don’t really care, just as long as my curiosity can finally be satisfied.
She puts her hands over mine and instantly, I still. I want her more than I want my next breath, but her needs come first always.