Chapter 18
BENJAMIN
“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur against Hazel’s temple, my voice still gravelly with sleep. She stirs in my arms, lashes fluttering as a slow, lazy smile curls her lips. She shifts closer, her warm body molding perfectly against mine—as if she was made to fit there.
“Just a few more minutes,” she mumbles into my chest.
“As many as you want,” I whisper, tightening my hold around her, fingers tracing idle patterns across her bare back. Her skin is impossibly soft, silken beneath my touch, and the thought of moving—of breaking this fragile morning bubble—feels like a crime.
But I know reality waits for us on the other side of the door.
With a sigh, I press a kiss into her hair.
“If we don’t go down soon, we’ll never hear the end of it—especially if they peek in and find you not in your bed.
” My thumb strokes her spine in featherlight touches, earning a tiny shiver.
“Besides, who knows what mischief your little creature is up to alone.”
“He’s not just a creature—he’s a hedgehog,” Hazel corrects, cracking one eye open with mock severity.
The sight of her trying to look stern—hair mussed from sleep, lips still swollen from my kisses—makes something in my chest ache.
Then she rolls away, sitting up, the blanket sliding to her waist. Morning light spills across her skin, kissing every curve.
Her breasts are bared, rose-tipped peaks begging for my touch.
On instinct, I groan. “On second thought, we could be a few minutes late.” My hand moves before I can stop it, fingers catching her nipple in a gentle pinch.
“Ben!” she squeals, laughter bubbling out as she swats my hand. She scrambles to the edge of the bed, the blanket slipping lower, and I don’t even try to disguise how much I enjoy the view—her bare curves bending as she scoops up her discarded clothes.
“Is that… bacon?” she asks, sniffing the air as she shimmies into her pajamas.
“Most likely.” I drag myself from the warmth of the bed, tugging on a pair of jeans. “Mom likes to go all out for Christmas breakfast.”
Hazel rakes her fingers through her tangled hair, frowning into the small mirror on my wall. “It looks like a pair of rats spent the night in it.”
I come up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist and pulling her flush against me. She giggles, squirming when the rough shadow of my beard grazes her neck as I kiss just below her ear.
“You look beautiful,” I murmur—and it’s the truth. Disheveled, flushed, sleepy… she’s never looked more perfect.
“You might think so,” she teases, “but your gran will never let us live this down. I need my brush.”
“Do what you need. I’ll meet you downstairs.” I press one last kiss against her cheek, reluctant to let go. “Cream in your coffee?”
“And sugar, please.” She gifts me a quick smile before slipping out the door. I listen to her soft footsteps fade, the faint creak of the hall floorboards, the opening and closing of the Opal Room’s door.
Silence settles around me, but it isn’t empty. The air still hums with her—the scent of her and her magic.
I scrub a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. I’ll never get tired of this—waking with Hazel tangled in my sheets, teasing until her laughter fills my mornings, her scent clinging to my skin. I want it every day.
That is… if she’ll have me.
The thought of her leaving after the holiday twists like a knife. We’re from two different worlds. I have my family and the farm. She has… everything else.
Are you blind? She wants us as much as we want her.
“Want and love are two different things,” I mutter to the empty room.
Why not both?
Before I can argue with my bear further, a familiar voice interrupts.
“Sooooooo,” Nathan drawls from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smug grin plastered across his face.
I scowl, tugging on my socks and shoving past him. “What do you want?”
“Oh, nothing,” he says far too innocently, trailing me like an annoying shadow. “Just wanted to make sure you were still alive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come downstairs this late.”
I grit my teeth, but the corner of my mouth betrays me, tugging upward. He knows. Hell, my whole family probably knows.
And as much as I hate giving Nathan the satisfaction, I can’t bring myself to care. Hazel’s upstairs getting ready for Christmas breakfast. She spent the night with me. And tucked away in the back of the tree is the gift I picked just for her—something small but meaningful.
I’d spotted it that morning in a shop window, right after her near-disastrous fall from the ladder. What would she have done if I hadn’t been there?
Something far worse than twisting her ankle.
I shudder and push the thought away, heading down the stairs.
“Good morning, Benjamin. Did you sleep well? We didn’t see you two when we came back,” Mom says without turning around, the scent of sizzling bacon filling the kitchen.
“Sleep? Yep. Slept like a baby. Went to bed early, actually.” I grab two mugs—white porcelain with delicate snowflakes stamped on the sides—and fill them both with coffee.
One black for me, the other I lace with a heaping spoonful of sugar and a splash of cream. Hazel’s coffee. Just how she likes it.
“He sure did.” Nathan leans casually against the counter, grinning like the devil himself. “Busy night. Can’t blame him though—witches are tricky. Bet you had your hands full keeping up.”
I choke mid-sip, spraying coffee across the floor.
“Nathan!” Mom chides as I sputter, coughing. He howls with laughter, thumping me on the back like he’s trying to knock the rest out.
“Easy there, old man,” he teases between fits of laughter. “I’m just joking.” He doesn’t miss a beat, reaching around Mom to swipe a strip of bacon before she can swat him away.
Mom tuts at us both, but her tone softens when she asks, “Is Hazel awake yet? I hope we didn’t disturb her last night.” She transfers the bacon to a plate before peeking in the oven. The sweet, buttery scent of cinnamon rolls fills the room. “Now, where did I put those oven mitts?”
“Here, Mom.” I pluck them from beside the coffee pot and pull the tray out for her, setting it down to cool.
“Mmm, that smells delicious,” Hazel murmurs as she steps down the last stair.
I turn, and for a moment the kitchen, my family, hell—the whole damn world—falls away.
Her hair is brushed into loose waves of gold streaked with blue, tumbling over her shoulders.
She’s dressed simply—fitted jeans, a soft white cashmere sweater that clings just right, and a beanie topped with a ridiculous puffball.
But she looks radiant, her cheeks faintly flushed from sleep and the cold.
Mine.
My bear rumbles with possessive pride just seeing her framed in the morning light in our kitchen.
Would she want to stay in the big house if things got more serious?
There are a dozen smaller cabins on the property if she didn’t.
As much as instinct pushes me to stay with the clan, the longer I’m in her presence, the more I know I’d do anything for her.
“Oh, dear, are you cold?” Mom’s brow creases, her voice laced with concern.
Hazel smiles, shaking her head. “I’ll be alright, I just need—”
“Here’s your coffee,” I cut in, sliding the steaming mug into her hands before she can finish.
Her fingers curl around it gratefully, shoulders relaxing.
She closes her eyes, breathing in the aroma before taking a slow sip.
The sight of her lips wrapping around the rim sends heat bolting through me.
She exhales, sighing softly, then glances up at me through her lashes with the sweetest, shyest smile.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Goddess, she’s beautiful. I’d face down blizzards, wolves, hell—even Nathan’s smug mouth—just to see her look at me like that every morning.
“Careful, Hazel,” Nathan drawls, snagging another strip of bacon. “Keep praising him like that and his ego won’t fit through the door.”
“Keep talking and you won’t make it to lunch,” I growl, shooting him a glare over Hazel’s shoulder.
He just winks at her, unbothered. “See? Hands full already.”
Hazel giggles into her cup, and even though I’m scowling at Nathan, my chest feels like it might burst. Because she’s here. She’s laughing. And I don’t ever want this morning to end.
“Why don’t the two of you carry these to the coffee table and see if Gran needs a refill on her cocoa before we open presents? Your dad should be back from his walk any minute.”
As if on cue, the back door opens and Dad comes in, leaning on his crutches.
“Did someone call me? Mmm, honey, that smells great.” He gives her a peck on the cheek before turning to us. “Good morning, boys. Hazel. I hope you all slept well.”
“Yes, thank you.” Hazel sets her cup down on the counter before reaching for the plate of bacon. “Here, I can help with that.”
“Nope,” I quip, swiping the plate from her and handing back her mug. “You’re our guest. Go make yourself comfortable.”
“I’m quite capable—”
“I never said anything about you not being capable.” I let the back of my hand brush hers. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She sighs, but the corners of her lips curve up into a smile before she disappears through the doorway. That smile—it hits me like a punch to the chest, sweet and sharp. She doesn’t even realize what it does to me.
I grab the still-hot tray of cinnamon rolls just as Mom finishes smothering them in a thick coat of cream cheese frosting. My stomach growls, but it’s not the rolls I’m hungry for. It’s her. Always her.
Just as I’m about to follow Hazel into the living room, she pops back through the doorway, hair swinging over her shoulder.
“I thought I told you—” I start.
“Gran wanted more hot cocoa.” She grins, holding up the empty cup like proof of her innocence.
That grin. Damn it, she knows exactly how to disarm me.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, though the smile tugging at my lips betrays me. “Nathan could’ve handled it.”