Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Seems appropriate, given the town name,” she said, stepping closer.
Her voice dropped lower on the last words, and I swear the temperature in the bar jumped five degrees. I tried to play it cool, but my heartbeat had other plans.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “You couldn’t start your car, so instead of waiting for a mechanic, you found someone willing to drive four hours through a snowstorm just to get here?”
She shrugged, her lips curving into that infuriatingly sexy smile. “When a girl changes her mind, she commits.”
“Changes her mind about what, exactly?”
“You,” she said simply.
And just like that, I forgot every word I’d ever known.
The wind howled again, slamming against the building, but all I could hear was my pulse thundering in my ears.
She was close enough now that I could smell her perfume and I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Everything made me fall deeper for her, from the flush on her cheeks to the way her hair curled around her scarf and the spark in her eyes that told me she was done running.
I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a low rumble. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, you know that?”
“Good,” she said. “Then at least you’ll remember I was worth the drive.”
That did it.
I reached for her before I could think twice, my hands finding her waist and pulling her in. She came willingly, her breath catching just before her lips met mine.
The kiss was electric—hungry, desperate, months of tension snapping all at once.
From the moment I met her, she undid me.
Melanie melted against me, her hands sliding up my chest, tangling in my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear.
I deepened the kiss, trying to memorize the feel of her, the warmth of her body against mine, the soft sound she made when I tilted her head just right.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard.
Her forehead rested against mine, her voice a whisper. “I thought about this the whole drive.”
“Yeah?” I murmured.
“Yeah.” She smiled against my mouth.
“What made you find a way?”
Her eyes met mine, steady and sure. “Because I realized I didn’t want to spend another Christmas wondering what would’ve happened if I’d just shown up.”
Something in my chest tightened. I wanted to say a hundred things, to tell her how I’d convinced myself she wasn’t coming, how it had almost broken me to believe it. But all that came out was a shaky laugh.
“You sure this isn’t just the snow talking?”
“If it is,” she said, her grin returning, “then you’d better take advantage of the storm while it lasts.”
The words hung there between us, heavy and charged.
She brushed her thumb along my jaw, her touch slow, deliberate.
“Take me to your home,” she said quietly. “And make sure I don’t regret the trip.”
For a moment, I couldn’t move. The weight of what she was asking hit me like the wind outside—sudden, powerful, undeniable.
I searched her face for hesitation, but all I found was determination, bright and steady as a flame.
“Mel,” I said, my voice rough, “you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
And that was it. The last thread of restraint snapped.
I grabbed my coat from behind the bar, shrugged it on, and took her hand.
“Come on,” I said, my heart thudding fast. “Before I start thinking too hard about this.”
She smiled, that mischievous curve that always made me feel like I was walking into trouble on purpose. “That’s the spirit.”
Outside, the wind had calmed a little, snowflakes drifting lazily under the lamplight. I locked the door behind us, the faint glow of the tavern fading into the background as we walked across the lot. Her boots crunched softly on the snow, and she leaned into me, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Was it everything you imagined?” I asked quietly.
“What?”
“The drive. The arrival. The reckless part.”
She tilted her head, her breath visible in the cold air. “Ask me again tomorrow morning.”
I chuckled, squeezing her hand tighter as we reached the truck.
“Deal,” I said, laughing wickedly.
When we climbed inside, she turned to me, eyes glinting in the dim dashboard light. “You still look shocked.”
“I am,” I admitted. “But I’m not complaining.”
“Good,” she said, and leaned across the seat to kiss me again—slow this time, sure, like a promise.
As I started the engine and pulled out onto the snowy road toward my cabin, I glanced over at her. She was watching the falling snow, a small smile playing on her lips.
Maybe I was still dreaming.
Maybe I’d wake up tomorrow and she’d be gone again.
But for now, she was here.
And that was enough.
The snow thickened outside, swirling around us like the world was closing in just for the two of us. And somewhere between the bar lights fading behind us and the road stretching out ahead, I realized I didn’t care how she got here—only that she had.
“Welcome back to Reckless River,” I said quietly.
She turned to me, eyes soft. “It’s good to be back.”