Chapter 33
Fact or Fiction?
Snowball fights with my wife are top-tier.
Luke
“Oh my God, this is fun!” Roe squeals with delight as she sits on my lap in the fully enclosed cab of the tractor, pushing
snow into a pile at the top of the drive, just next to my cabin.
“Okay, now use the back blade and push that excess to the left.”
“Here?” She points to the controller that shifts her into Reverse.
“Yeah, you got it.” I smile and laugh, gripping her hips as she runs the tractor like a pro, picking up instructions easily
with all her time spent on machinery at the lumberyard. Her hair is braided down one side and stuffed under a beanie, and
she’s dressed in a pair of my Carhartt overalls that are way too big on her, but she needed something better than what she
had, so we made them work.
We have easily gotten two feet of snow in the past few days so Addison really got a taste of Fletcher Mountain snowstorms.
The plow company finally called and said they’re going to come do our road tomorrow morning, so I figured it was time to get
outside and dig out our cabins so we’re ready to get back to the real world in the morning.
But I would have much rather stayed snowed in with Roe. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve fucked already this week,
and miraculously I am in no way losing steam.
“You look good enough to eat in these overalls,” I murmur, snaking my hands inside and squeezing her tits. She ditched her coat in the heated cab and her little braid is driving me insane.
“After this, we’re eating real food!” She gives me a playful shove away from her. “I swear you’re trying to starve me.”
“I think I fed you pretty well in the shower this morning,” I state hungrily as I picture her lips wrapped around my cock
again. God, she sucked me so good. Begged me to blow it down her throat as her fingers dug into my thighs and she swallowed
every drop like the good little slut she’s proving to be.
Fuck, she’s even more perfect than my perverted dirty little heart could imagine.
It’s no wonder I couldn’t keep my hands off her a couple hours later when she was doing her precious “stretch and fold” process
to her bread. Her hands were literally covered in sticky dough as I bent her over my kitchen counter and ate her out from
behind. She screamed my name and pressed her face into the countertop so by the time I was done with her, she needed another
shower.
My dick is raw from overuse and, still, I crave more. I can’t get enough of her. And even though my girl is hungry, I know
the feeling is mutual. That’s why we forced ourselves to go outside just to get a break from the fucking pheromones floating
around my small cabin. It’s suffocating in the best possible way.
But once we’re done pushing snow, I have every intention of stripping her out of her gear and taking her in this tractor to
tell her what a good girl she was for working so hard. And then I’ll feed her real food afterward as a thank-you.
Maybe.
However, when we finish, my plans are put on hold when we spy Calder, Dakota, Wyatt, Trista, and Stevie all bundled up and
heading our way. The way they’re looking at us, I can tell they’re trying to gauge if we’re okay. And the look of relief on
their faces says it all.
Wyatt and Calder both have sleds in their hands and Calder has a dopey smile on his face . . . not too dissimilar to the dopey smile on my face.
Everyone loves some snow days.
“Hey,” I say, hopping out of the tractor and turning around to help Addison down.
“Hey, you two,” Trista calls out, shielding her eyes from the bright sun as she looks at the giant pile of snow we just created.
It’s the perfect snow for sledding, taking you right past all three cabins, down the driveway, and ending at the more flattened
section in front of the barn.
“Baby’s first sledding adventure.” Trista cheers, holding Stevie’s hand up, who looks completely unimpressed by the whiteout
conditions all around her.
She’s dressed in tiny pink Carhartt coveralls that match her mother’s tan set. Her chestnut curls peek out under the matching
pink Carhartt hat on her head, and I can’t help but reach my hands out to take her in my arms. The cuteness of her is too
overwhelming to stay away from. I hold her up to the sky and give her a little toss, causing her to giggle excitedly.
“We made a hill for you, Stevie baby!”
She babbles and slobbers down her chin as I hold her to my body, my chest full of a feeling of rightness that I’ve never experienced
before. It’s wild how my brothers and I swore off women just a few years ago and now we’re all standing out here smiling with
our ladies like one big happy family dressed for a Carhartt photoshoot.
Because we found the right women.
Except Wyatt, who doesn’t look quite so happy. “She’s too little for sledding.”
“Stop being such an overprotective grump,” Trista says, smacking him in the chest.
“Dakota and I will go first to make sure it’s not too fast,” Calder says, grabbing Dakota by the wrist and dragging her up the giant pile.
“Calder, I swear, if you crash us, I will kill you.”
“Baby, you know I love to make you angry so that’s not even a real threat.”
They situate themselves at the top and Addison climbs up to help give them a push down. With a loud cheer, they skid past
us, Dakota screaming and Calder laughing as they go soaring down toward the barn where the golden sun is just beginning to
lower in the horizon.
It looks like fucking heaven.
Wyatt’s goat Millie bleats from the pasture and he sighs. “I guess that doesn’t look so bad.”
“Stevie is going to love it,” I confirm, giving him a pat on the back.
Wyatt turns to face me and then subtly cuts a glance up to Addison. “Are you two good?” He eyes me thoughtfully, clearly wanting
to check in after all the drama the other night.
I bite my lip and feel a flush of heat crawl up my neck. “Oh yeah, we’re good.”
My grumpy fucking brother actually grins at me and pats me on the back, hitting me with a knowing wink. “You look good, baby
bro.”
“Thanks.” I smile sheepishly.
And we spend the next two hours playing in the snow as six grown-ass adults all focus on the one baby on the mountain. Except
for the moment when everyone else is down by the barn, and I push Addison up against a tree and kiss the life out of her.
A boner in snowpants is not a pleasant experience, but I’m way too happy to be bothered by it because I finally don’t have
to pretend in front of my family. I finally don’t have to be the seventh wheel. I finally get to touch my best friend whenever
I want.
After we end the day watching the sunset at our dad’s bench, Addison and I stomp inside out of the fresh powder. We’re cold and out of breath, but the crackling fire in the hearth and the smell of chili she threw together in the Crock-Pot before we went outside warms me instantly.
“I’m starving,” Addison exclaims, her cheeks rosy as we undress each other in the doorway, smiling like a couple of lovesick
puppies.
I grab her braid and pull her toward me. “I promise I’ll let you eat food this time.”
She presses a chase kiss to my lips before heading into the kitchen and prepping for our dinner. She begins cutting up a loaf
of fresh bread and spreads her homemade cinnamon butter on it, offering it to me as an appetizer when I come to stand behind
her. My hands skate around her hips as I pull her back into my groin.
Fuck, this is how we got in trouble last time.
I bite the toast out of her hand and groan my approval. Everything from this woman tastes like heaven, including her body.
I press my lips to her shoulder and rest my chin on her, watching her slice a few more pieces.
“I’m going to text your family and tell them if they want to come grab some chili, they can. I made more than you and I will
be able to eat in a week.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Smiling, she stops her work on the bread and shoots out a message in a group text that Trista started the night before the Mercantile.
The Fletcher Mountain group chat has changed a lot these past couple of years as we’ve folded in the new women who have joined the peak.
But it gives me a warm sense of rightness that we’ve included Addison in it now too.
It’s mostly jokes and memes, or images of Stevie trying to take her first steps, and Trista looking similar as she waddles down to the barn to do chores in all her winter gear.
Calder just sends pictures of his fucking cat. God, he’s obsessed.
“What do you think about bridesmaids and groomsmen?” Addison asks, licking a dollop of butter off her thumb.
“Huh?” I ask, turning to look at her and not the bread.
“And maybe a flower girl and ring bearer.”
I shift over so I’m standing beside Addison instead of behind her and note those two worry lines are present between her eyebrows.
“I feel like you were having a whole conversation in your head, and I need a bit of context before I can answer these questions.”
She brushes crumbs off her hands before lifting her eyes to me, the setting sun casting a golden halo around her wild hair.
“When you filled out that questionnaire from your mom, you put that we didn’t want any bridesmaids and groomsmen.”
“I figured that was for the best . . . all things considered.”
“Right. But things have changed, no?”
My brows lift. We haven’t really had the talk quite yet about what we are. I mean . . . we’ve admitting to caring about each
other obviously, which felt like a huge accomplishment. I guess I was just waiting for the winds to die down before I hit
her with another snowstorm. If it was up to me, we’d be walking through the sunset right now.
But it’s not just up to me.
I swallow the knot in my throat, my muscles tightening as I ask the question, “This wedding we’re having in a couple weeks . . .
is it fact or fiction?”
She blinks back at me with a completely unreadable expression that makes me sweat. When will I feel secure with this woman?