Chapter 5
Later, when darkness falls and the fire burns low, we're back on the couch. I’m curled against his side, his arm around my shoulders. We've talked about everything and nothing: my college years, his first business failure, my book club friends, his expansion plans for the park.
"They sound protective," Justin says when I mention Madison and the others checking in. "Your book club."
"They are. We all are. We made a mini club inside of the larger book club. There are seven of us who are in our early twenties and prefer Daddy Dom little girl dynamics to Daddy dynamics. Like, we love reading about the alpha male Daddy who takes control but we also like a little age regression in our books. The author who runs our book club writes both, but lately she’s gone more dominant and less DDlg.
So, we ventured out and made our own sub chapter.
We still read and follow along in the main group but also do our own thing. ”
“Tell me more about your friends,” he says, pulling me closer until my head is resting on his chest.
“Well, there’s Madison. She’s a TikTok influencer.”
“For real?”
“Yep. She makes major bank on her videos. I keep waiting for her to do something stupid and be corrected by a Daddy. You know, there’s not actually a lot of you in real life.” I tease.
“There’s more of us than you know. You said there are seven of you? Who are the other five?” He listens as if he really cares to know about my friends, and also, I think he might be making a mental spreadsheet for later.
“Lily is a personal shopper. She gets paid to shop. Can you imagine?”
“I absolutely can’t. Definitely not a job I would want.”
“Then Maya is a travel agent, Chloe owns her own small coffee drive-through kiosk over by base, Amber is a professional gamer, and Emily is a yoga instructor and personal trainer at the Y. She leads a Zomba class and I went once. Only once. Never again. Turns out I have no rhythm and my hips very much lie.”
He laughs. “I promise you baby girl, you very much have a rhythm and your hips are delicious.” I’m glad I’m facing away from him.
I can blame the fireplace for the blush creeping across my face.
I tilt my head to look up at him. "You'd probably like them.
They're nosy and opinionated and they don't take any crap. "
"Sounds familiar."
I grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should." His fingers trace absent patterns on my shoulder. "When this storm clears and we go back to real life, things will be different."
"How?"
"People will talk. About us being snowed in together."
"Let them," I say.
"It could affect how people treat you at work."
I sit up, turning to face him. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"No. But I want you to be prepared. HR will have questions. Some employees might assume things."
"Then we'll handle it." I take his hand. "Together. That's how this works, right?"
His expression softens. "Right."
“And you are the boss. The owner. You can do whatever you want.”
My phone buzzes on the side table. I ignore it.
It buzzes again.
"You can check it," he says, giving me permission.
“I was trying not to be rude, but if you insist.”
“I do. Check your texts. Tell the girls you are alive.”
I do just that, pulling up the group chat.
Madison: It's been 24 hours. I'm staging an intervention. Do I need to send emergency services up? He hasn’t chopped you to bits has he?
Lily: You watch too much true crime, Maddy. Maybe she's just busy
Chloe: VERY busy
Amber: I bet she's found out boss man has a secret soft side
Maya: Or she's living out her own book and forgot about us
Emily: Sending good energy and hoping she's okay!
Me: I'm very okay. Better than okay.
Madison: DETAILS
Me: Not yet. But... I think this might be something real.
Lily: FINALLY
Chloe: We called it! Little intuition never lies.
I set the phone down and find Justin watching me with amusement.
“They are nosey.” I explain.
"They seem invested," he observes.
"They are." I shift back against him. "They've been telling me for months I needed someone who could handle me. I’ve had a couple bad blind dates that they’ve arranged, and none of them were the real deal."
"And now you have a man who cannot only handle you but enjoys doing so."
"Now I have one," I agree, before yawning. It’s late. Really late.
“As much as I would like to repeat what we did by the fire, I think it’s time for us to get some real sleep.”
“But—” I can definitely wake up for a repeat of what we did by the fire.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’m going to take you to bed and tuck you in.”
The sun is blinding when I wake. Not gentle morning light, but full Colorado high-altitude brilliance reflecting off snow so white it hurts to look at. I really need to make sure the blinds are pulled when I go to sleep. Two days in a row of having my eyeballs stabbed.
I'm alone in bed, but the indent beside me is still warm. The scent of his soap lingers on the pillow.
I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache in muscles I forgot I had.
He’d taken me to bed but we hadn’t gone to sleep right away after all.
We'd stayed up touching, learning the language of each other's bodies through careful exploration.
Nothing rushed. Nothing I wasn't ready for.
Just Justin's hands and mouth teaching me what it feels like to be worshipped slowly.
My phone shows it's nearly ten. I never sleep this late.
Madison: Good morning sunshine. You alive?
Me: Very alive. Suspiciously well-rested.
Lily: Mr. Bossman wore you out?
Chloe: It’s the afterglow
Me: You're all terrible.
Amber: Terribly RIGHT
Maya: So what's the plan for today? More snowed-in romance novel activities?
Me: He's probably planned something, if I know him.
I find him in the kitchen again, but this time there's more than breakfast. There's a backpack on the counter, thermoses lined up, and what looks like a picnic basket.
"You're up," he says, glancing over. "Good. We have a schedule."
"A schedule for what?"
"For properly enjoying this place." He gestures to the window, where the park spreads out in pristine white. "The storm's over. Roads will probably be clear tomorrow morning, but we have today."
"And you planned activities."
"I planned experiences." He crosses to me, cups my face, kisses me slowly and thoroughly until my knees go weak. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm. "Good morning."
"Good morning," I breathe.
"Did you sleep well?"
"You know I did."
"I like hearing you say it." He releases me, returning to his preparations. "Eat. We leave in thirty minutes."
"So bossy."
"Yes." He doesn't look up from packing supplies. "That's the point."
I grin, pouring myself a mug of hot chocolate. There's already a plate waiting for me with toast, eggs, and fruit. He's cut the strawberries into stars.
Something warm and soft unfolds in my chest.
The park is ours alone, quite likely for the last time in a long time. I vow to enjoy it today. The quiet, magical, holiday playland and the man who owns it.
Justin leads me down the main path, past shuttered booths and silent rides, everything draped in fresh snow like the world's most elaborate wedding cake. Our boots crunch in the quiet. My breath makes clouds in the air.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"You'll see."
We pass the carousel, the reindeer barn, the gingerbread house photo op. When we reach the empty tree lighting plaza, the massive spruce dark and waiting for tonight's nightly ceremony that won't happen, he stops.
"We're going to light it anyway," he says.
I blink. "The tree?"
"The whole plaza. Just for us." He pulls out a key ring, sorts through until he finds the right one. "I override the timer every year for testing."
"That's very rule-breaking of you."
His mouth curves. "I'm learning flexibility."
He disappears into the control booth. A moment later, the plaza erupts in light.
Thousands of bulbs strung through trees, wrapped around lampposts, draped across the rooflines of surrounding buildings flicker on.
The giant spruce blazes gold and white, its star topper catching the sun and reflecting off the snow.
I gasp.
It's magic.
Real, genuine, take-your-breath-away magic.
There’s something different about the lights being on with us here alone.
Without the noise. Without the hustle, bustle, children crying, loud music blasting, salespeople calling out their wares.
It’s the type of Christmas magic you only see in holiday movies.
When Justin emerges, I'm standing in the center of the plaza turning slowly, trying to see everything at once.
"It's beautiful," I whisper.
"Yes." But he's looking at me, not the lights.
I meet his gaze, feel the weight of it. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We're not done."
He takes my hand, leads me to the hot cocoa stand. Inside, he fires up the industrial seized machine, meant for hundreds of guests. He makes two cups, perfect temperature with extra chocolate, topped with fresh whipped cream and crushed candy canes.
He brushes the snow off the plaza steps and lays down the thick blanket he’d brought with us, and as we sit, surrounded by lights, drinking cocoa, I can’t help but think that I could get used to this.
"I used to do this with my grandfather when I was a teen and even when I was in college," Justin says after a while.
"He'd turn on all the lights and we'd walk through, just the two of us, and he'd tell me the reason behind every decoration, every ride and the decision behind each.
When I was younger, he would tell me stories.
" There’s a wistfulness behind his words that makes me want to know more.
"What kind of stories?"
"Made-up ones. About the reindeer's secret love lives, about Mrs. Claus running the whole operation, about elves who got into trouble for being naughty." He smiles at the memory. "He had a vivid imagination. I don't know where I lost mine."
"You didn't lose it. You just buried it under spreadsheets."
"Maybe."
I lean against his shoulder. "Tell me a story."
"About what?"
"About us. Make one up."
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Once there was a man who forgot how to feel anything but responsibility.
He built walls so high he couldn't see over them anymore.
And then one day, a woman covered in glitter crashed through every single one.
She bulldozed in, smashing his carefully built defenses into shreds. "
My throat tightens. "What happened then?"
"He's still figuring that out." He turns to look at me. "But he thinks maybe she saved him."
"That's a good story."
"It's not finished yet."
I kiss him, tasting chocolate and peppermint.
Santa help me, I’m falling for my boss.