CHAPTER 10
Clark
Monday morning, a week before Christmas, I woke to the sound of Maverick singing in the shower. It was slightly off-key and enthusiastic, some pop song I didn't recognize. The bathroom door was cracked open, steam billowing out, and I could hear him over the spray of water.
I lay there for a moment, just listening, a smile tugging at my mouth. This was my life now. Waking up to terrible shower concerts and stolen blankets and the knowledge that someone else was here, making this house feel like a home again.
It was just past seven—later than I usually woke, but my body had adjusted to Maverick's rhythms over the past week. No more jolting awake at five with nothing to do but wait for the day to start.
The singing cut off and a moment later Maverick appeared in the doorway, towel around his waist, hair dripping.
"Morning," he said with a grin. "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Not complaining." I propped myself up on one elbow, taking in the sight of him. Water droplets clung to his shoulders and his skin was flushed from the heat. There was still a small mark on his neck from Saturday night. "What was that song?"
"You don't know it? It's basically a classic." He crossed to the dresser, rummaging for clothes. "I have terrible taste in music. Fair warning."
"Noted." I watched him pull out one of my flannels—he'd been slowly snagging them all week. "That's mine, you know."
"I know." He pulled it on, shameless. "But it's softer. And it smells like you."
Something warm settled in my chest. Mine. He was mine. Had given himself to me Saturday night—trusted me with something I knew he'd never given anyone else. Not the physical act, but the submission. The vulnerability of letting someone else take complete control. The things that it did for me.
And yesterday, Sunday, we'd spent the whole day together.
Working in the workshop, him taking photos, both of us just..
. being. Learning this new rhythm we'd found.
Watching him settle and seeing him relax when I took charge of small things—what we ate, when we took breaks, guiding him gently when he started to spiral.
He'd been perfect.
Five years. Five years since I'd woken up with someone in my bed. Since I'd wanted to. I'd thought I was done with this. Thought Mitch had been my one shot at this kind of connection, this kind of home.
But here was Maverick, a restless wanderer who'd stumbled onto my property with a broken-down car and somehow worked his way into my bed, my life, and my heart.
"You're staring," Mav said, pulling on jeans.
"You're worth staring at."
He flushed, pleased, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. "How'd you sleep?"
"Better than I have in years." I reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. "You?"
"Perfect. This weekend was perfect. Yesterday especially—just being with you, working on my portfolio, not thinking about anything else."
"It was perfect," I agreed.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once, then again.
"Popular this morning," I said.
He reached for it, glanced at the screen, and I watched his expression shift slightly. Not panic—but surprise.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
He was quiet for a moment, reading. Then he set the phone down and turned to face me fully.
"That was Jake. My friend from college." He took a breath. "His company has a design position opening up that he told me about. It’s in Denver. He wanted to know if I was still interested."
My stomach dropped, but I kept my voice steady. "And?"
"I’m telling him no." Maverick held my gaze. "I’m staying here right now. I want to see what we might really be.”
Relief flooded through me so fast I felt dizzy. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." He cupped my face. "I chose this. I chose you. I'm not going to panic and run the second something else comes along."
I pulled him closer, kissing him thoroughly. "I'm proud of you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. That took courage. To choose what you want instead of what you think you should want."
He hummed contentedly. "Well, you've been teaching me about making choices and following through. I'm a good student."
"You're an excellent student." I kissed him again. "Now let's get some breakfast before your stomach stages a revolt."
He grinned. "Promises of food. You know the way to my heart."
***
Over breakfast, Maverick brought it up again.
"I do need to figure out what I'm doing though," he said, spreading jam on his toast. "Like, long-term. I can't just freelance forever and call that a career."
"What do you want to do?"
"I've been thinking about that." He looked up at me. "The photography thing. I really love it. I've been taking pictures with my phone, but if I'm going to do this professionally, I'll need an actual camera. Good equipment."
"What kind of equipment?"
"I've been researching. A good DSLR, some decent lenses, and editing software." He shrugged. "It's an investment, but if I'm serious about building a business..."
"You are serious."
"Yeah, I think I am." He met my eyes. "I could build something here maybe. Not just freelance design work, but actual photography services. Portraits, events, maybe landscape stuff for local businesses."
"That's a great idea."
"You think there's a market for it here?"
"I know there is. Marion at the mercantile was just saying last week she needs new photos for her website. And the library is always looking for people to photograph their events." I paused. "Plus, tourist season brings people who want mountain photography. You could sell prints."
His face lit up. "Really? You think that could work?"
"I think you could make it work. You're talented, Mav. And you're good with people. Once word gets around..."
"I'd need to build a real portfolio first. And figure out pricing. And save up for equipment. And maybe take some business classes or something."
"One step at a time," I said. "But yeah. All of that is doable."
He was quiet for a moment, fork halfway to his mouth, a small smile playing on his lips.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm just thinking about the future. Actually planning for it. Usually I'm already thinking about the next place I'll go, but now I'm thinking about building something. Here. With you. If that’s okay."
It was more than okay. "It is. But how does that feel?"
"Scary," he admitted. "Like... exciting scary instead of running-away scary."
"That's growth, baby."
"Yeah." He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully. "I should probably call my parents today too. Let them know I'm really staying here for awhile. They probably won’t believe me. My mom will say it’s a phase and I’ll have to convince them that I’m serious."
"You don't have to convince them of anything."
"I know. But I want them to understand." He met my eyes. "That I’ve found something I want here. I feel like I’m done looking for whatever it is. Pretty sure I’ve found it."
The certainty in his voice made my chest tight. This was the Maverick I'd been waiting to see—the one who'd stopped running long enough to see what he had. To choose it actively instead of just letting it happen to him.
"Good," I said simply. "Now finish your breakfast before it gets cold."
He threw a piece of toast at me.
***
That afternoon, while Maverick continued working on updating his portfolio website at the kitchen table, I finished some paperwork for the farm.
I kept an eye on him while I worked. Watched the way he got absorbed in what he was doing, his face lit by the laptop screen, occasionally muttering to himself about layout or color schemes. Every so often I'd remind him to take a break, get some water, and stretch his legs.
He was learning to accept my care. Learning that he didn't have to do everything alone.
Around three, I made coffee and brought him a cup. He looked up with a smile that made my chest tight.
"You're spoiling me," he said.
"Getting you coffee is hardly spoiling."
"It is when I didn't have to ask for it. When you just knew I needed it." He took a sip and hummed contentedly. "Perfect. Like always."
"How's the website coming?"
"Good. Really good, actually." He turned the laptop so I could see. "Look—I organized everything into better categories. Landscapes, the workshop shots from yesterday, some daily life stuff. It looks professional, right?"
"It looks very professional." And it did. The layout was clean, the photos were stunning, and it had the kind of polish that would attract clients. "You really do have an eye for this, Mav. For the photography and the design."
His face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."
"I'm just telling you the truth."
We worked in comfortable silence for another hour, both of us absorbed in our tasks but aware of each other. This was what I'd been missing—not just having someone in my space, but having someone who fit there. Who made the space better just by being in it.
***
That evening after we closed up the farm, Maverick called his parents while I gave him privacy, taking Bear for a walk around the property.
The sun was setting, painting the snow pink and gold, and the cold air stung my lungs in the best way. Bear bounded ahead, delighted by the fresh snow, and I felt grateful for this life. This place. This man who'd stumbled into it and decided to stay.
When I came back, Maverick was sitting on the couch, looking lighter somehow.
"How'd it go?" I asked.
"Better than I expected. I told them I'm staying. Mom thinks I'm rushing into things, but..." He shrugged. "She said she wants to meet you eventually. Maybe come visit in the spring."
"I'd like that."
"Really? You're not worried about the idea of meeting my parents?"
"Should I be?"
"They can be... a lot. Especially my mom. She'll have opinions about the age difference, about how fast we're moving, about—"
I kissed him, cutting off the spiral before it could start. "I'm not worried. We're building something good. That's all that matters."
He relaxed against me. "You're right. You're right."
"I usually am."
"Don't push it." I tried to keep a straight face but I couldn’t help but smile at him.
We spent the evening decorating more of the house for Christmas—Maverick had insisted we needed more lights, more garland, and more everything. I watched him transform the space, adding touches that were purely him, and felt something settle even deeper.
This was our home now. Not just mine. Ours.
He strung lights along the mantle while I hung garland, and we worked together with an easy rhythm we'd found. Bear supervised from his spot by the fire, occasionally barking at ornaments that dared to sway too much.
"This place is really starting to feel like Christmas," Maverick said, stepping back to admire our work.
"It hasn't felt like Christmas in five years," I admitted. "Not really. I went through the motions, but..."
"But it wasn't the same without someone to share it with." He came over and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Well, you've got someone now. And I fully plan to make this the best Christmas ever."
"I believe you will."
"Damn right I will." He grinned up at me. "Fair warning—I'm very annoying about Christmas. I want to do all the things. Cookies, movies, caroling if that's a thing here—"
"It's definitely a thing."
"Perfect. We're doing it all."
I pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'm looking forward to it."
Later, in bed, he curled against me with that content sigh that meant he was completely relaxed.
"Clark?" he murmured, already half-asleep.
"Mm?"
"I'm really glad my car broke down."
I smiled into the darkness. "Me too, baby. Me too."
"Best breakdown ever."
"Go to sleep."
"'Kay."
Within minutes, his breathing evened out. I held him, listening to the quiet sounds of the house, and felt grateful for snowstorms and broken-down cars and wanderers who stumbled onto my property and decided to stay.
The next few days would be busy with then final tree sales before Christmas Eve. Then Christmas itself. Then the new year and everything that came with it.
But tonight, we had this. And that was everything.