Epilogue
Josie
I spun in a circle, my gaze arcing around the top of the ski slope. Looking below, I had a clear view of the ski resort construction. I smiled over at Tate. “Wow! This looks amazing. I can’t believe how much work they’ve gotten done.”
Tate had told me they finally had a new ski lift running. This wasn’t the first time I’d come skiing here since I’d moved home. Up until today, we’d been using the old tow rope lifts. We’d just skied off the brand-new lift.
His smile was wide. “I thought you’d like it.”
“The tow rope lift was a good upper body workout, though,” I teased.
He chuckled. “Archer told me they think construction is on track to be done for next season. There’ll be a grand opening.”
“I know. I’ll be there with bells on.” I glanced down the slope and back at him. “Are you going to ski down with me?”
We were standing on skis, after all. It was nearly impossible for me to be at the top of a snowy mountain and not feel the urge to plunge my poles into the snow, curl forward, and zoom down the slope. I was an adrenaline junkie when it came to skiing.
“There’s only one way down, Josie,” he teased.
He lifted his chin, his gaze sobering after a moment. My heart began to thump harder and faster as emotion began to rush inside. He took a step closer, reaching for my hand.
“I was going to wait until we got to the bottom,” he said.
“Wait for what?”
“Well, sweetheart, there’s only one person I can imagine spending the rest of my life with.
That’s you. I think we’ve had enough time to know how we feel.
I sure do. I love you. I want to wake up every day with you.
I want you to look annoyed if I forget to wash the dishes.
I want to stop by the café and see your face at least once a week even though you no longer have to work there.
I want to come home to you and Kara baking cookies and help clean up later.
And I do want to ski down that slope with you, but maybe you could tell me if you’ll marry me before we do.
” His earnest gaze held mine, and I could barely breathe.
Startled into silence for a moment, I couldn’t even speak. The rush of emotion was almost a sound, a force inside my body. I curled my hand tightly around his.
“Josie?” His tone was soft.
“Yes!” I shouted so loud that the single word echoed back to us. We were on an empty mountaintop high in the clear air.
Tate started laughing as he swung me into his arms. We almost stumbled and fell with our skis tangling for a moment. Only after he stepped away and swiped his thumb under my eyes did I realize I was crying happy tears.
“I have a ring,” he added with a grin.
I giggled. “You do?”
His answering chuckle spun around my heart. “I do. The plan was for us to ski down and for me to ask you there, so now I have to get it out.” He slid his hand into his jacket pocket before pulling out a little fleece bag.
“Isn’t that for…?” I began.
“A candle lantern for camping,” he filled in with a grin. “Don’t make fun. I had to make this work.”
The ring was a beautiful white gold band. With my heart doing cartwheels in my chest, I smiled up at him. “You did this perfectly. Just like you do the dishes.”
TATE
Three months later
“Really?” Josie teased.
Plate in hand, I glanced over my shoulder to see her walking into the kitchen. I chuckled and quickly rinsed the plate in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher, a step I’d been about to skip before she walked in.
After I closed the dishwasher, I turned and rested my hips against the counter, crossing my arms. “I’ll have you know I researched this.”
She stood across from me, resting her hips on the opposite counter and crossing her arms in imitation. “Really?”
“Yes. With modern dishwashers, you don’t have to rinse.”
“Have you tested this theory?” Her lips quirked at the corners.
My body revved its engine, and I could feel my length starting to swell.
If you had asked me if debates about dishwashers could’ve turned me on before Josie and I reconnected, I’d have scoffed.
But really, it took next to nothing with her—her presence in a room near me, her voice on the other end of a phone call or a text message.
“No, but that’s what the internet says.”
Josie snorted. “Fine. Let’s do it your way. Why don’t you test that theory? Don’t rinse anything next time.”
“Really?”
A smile unfurled across her face, and electricity sizzled through me. “Really. I promise I won’t say anything. In fact, don’t rinse any plates. Since there are only three of us, it usually takes a few days to fill it. Don’t rinse and leave everything. Go crazy with it.”
I pressed my tongue into my cheek as I eyed her skeptically. “I feel like you might’ve already tested this theory.”
She shrugged, all nonchalant. “I think you should test it.” She pushed away from the counter, her arms unfolding, before she stopped in front of me and placed her hand over my heart. “When’s Kara due home?” she asked.
“Not for an hour. She’s at softball practice.”
“Mmm. I just got home and haven’t seen you since this morning,” she murmured before leaning up to press a hot kiss on the edge of my jaw.
My heart lunged, and the arousal teasing inside lit up like a bonfire. “It’s been hours,” I agreed as I dipped my head and nipped lightly on the shell of her ear. She shivered against me as my lips traveled down her neck. I could feel the goose bumps rising on her skin.
I slid my hands down her waist to grip her by the hips as I kissed her. When I lifted my head, I whispered, “Hold on, sweetheart.”
She curled her legs around my waist when I raised her high against me. I took two steps to slide her hips onto the counter.
In all honesty, Josie and I hadn’t figured out how to slow our roll. Whenever we collided, it was hot, fast, and messy. Sometimes I could slow down enough to savor her. I loved that our connection was that explosive. It was another part of all the things I loved about us.
I opened the dishwasher one week later, feeling optimistic about my experiment. Come to find out, only some of the plates were completely clean. I glanced at Josie. “The internet was wrong. They said modern dishwashers could get rid of caked-on food.” I held a plate out for her to see.
Josie pressed her lips together, trying and failing not to smile. I checked a few other plates. “It worked on some things.”
“I love you for trying.” She bit her lip before she burst out laughing.
My own laughter broke free. “So what do I do now? Do I run it through another cycle?”
“Sure, try again,” she offered with a shrug.
“Like us,” I said as I looked at her.
She had what I called her “professional” look.
She wore a blouse that flared out over her hips and a pair of black jeans tucked into knee-high leather boots.
It was Josie, so the heels were low and practical, and I loved that about her.
Although she tried to keep her hair tidy, it was usually a failed effort.
Today was no exception, and several curls had escaped with one sticking up wildly on the back of her head. My heart felt kicked over.
“What?” she asked.
I set the plate down on the counter and stepped to her, smoothing the curl back. “Just that I love you.”
“What do you mean ‘like us’?” she asked.
“We tried again. Not just us together, but love, that whole thing.”
“I guess the dishwasher metaphor works,” she said slowly.
She was laughing as I lifted her into my arms and spun her around.
Thank you for reading Josie & Tate’s story!