Chapter 6
Slade couldn’t take his eyes off Mia. She was crouched next to Jamie in the snow, examining a Douglas fir like it was the most important decision of her life.
Her golden brown cheeks were flushed from the cold.
Her curls were escaping from under her knit hat, and she was laughing at something Jamie said.
She was in his space. On his mountain. Here.
Where he’d imagined her a hundred times before but never thought he’d actually see her.
The kiss was still burning through his system.
The taste of her. The little sound she’d made when he’d pulled her closer.
The way her hands had fisted his shirt, like she couldn’t get close enough.
Mine. Every cell in his body screamed, Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
“Uncle Slade.” Jamie waved him over. “Miss Brooks says this one is perfect, but I think it’s too small. What do you think?”
Slade walked over, forcing himself to focus on the tree and not on the way Mia’s eyes tracked his movement. “Depends. Where’s it going?”
“My classroom,” Mia said. “We do a tree every year for the kids to decorate.”
Of course she did. Of course she created magic for kids who might not have it at home. “Then this one’s perfect.” He ran his hand over the branches, his professional assessment taking over. “Noble fir. Holds ornaments well. Keeps its needles. Good choice.”
Jamie beamed. “Miss Brooks knows trees.”
“She knows a lot of things,” Slade said, his eyes meeting hers. The heat that flashed between them had nothing to do with trees.
Mia looked around at the farm, taking in the barn and the building behind it. “Is that your workshop? Jamie talks about it all the time. Says it smells like Christmas and magic.”
Slade felt something warm spread through his chest. His nephew talked about him to Mia. About his work. “Magic might be overselling it. But yeah, that’s where I work.”
“Can I see it?” Her voice was almost shy, but her eyes were eager. Genuinely interested, not just being polite.
He wanted to show her. Wanted her to see what he’d built with his hands, what mattered to him. “Yeah. Come on.” He looked at Jamie. “Bud, why don’t you go check on the hot chocolate station in the barn? Make sure it’s still warm. We’ll be in the workshop.”
Jamie took off running, always ready for a mission involving hot chocolate.
Slade led Mia toward the workshop, his hand settling on her lower back like it belonged there. The building was modest from the outside, but when he opened the door, the scent hit immediately. Cedar, pine, sawdust, and linseed oil.
“Oh,” Mia breathed, stepping inside. “Jamie was right. It does smell like magic.”
The workshop was organized chaos. Tools hung on pegboards. Half-finished projects on various workbenches. The rocking chair he was working on sat in the center, golden wood gleaming in the afternoon light coming through the windows.
Mia walked straight to it. Her hand reached out, then hesitated. “Can I touch it?”
“Yeah.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. Watching her appreciate his work did something to him.
She ran her fingers over the curved arm, the smooth rockers, the intricate details he’d carved into the headrest. “This is beautiful. You made this?”
“For a client’s new baby.” He moved closer, watching her trace the woodgrain. “It’s red oak. Sturdy enough to last generations.”
“You put love into your work.” She looked up at him, her eyes soft. “I can see it. Feel it. This isn’t just furniture. It’s... art.”
Something in his chest cracked open. She got it. She understood.
“Most people don’t see that.” He stepped behind her, his hands coming to rest on the workbench on either side of her, caging her in. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel his heat. “They see a chair. You see the care that went into it.”
“Because you care.” She leaned back slightly, her body almost touching his. “About the baby who’ll use it. About the parent who’ll rock their child to sleep. You’re creating memories.”
He couldn’t help it. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her vanilla and cinnamon scent. “You see me. Really see me.”
She turned in the circle of his arms, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. “I want to see all of you, Slade.”
He groaned. “Baby, if Jamie wasn’t outside—”
“I know.” Her smile was shy but heated. “Later.”
“Later,” he agreed. “After that damn wedding. I’m taking you home. To my cabin. And I’m keeping you there.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He kissed her forehead, forcing himself to step back before he did something that would scandalize his nephew. “Come on. Let me show you the rest.”
He showed her his tools, explained his process. She asked intelligent questions, genuinely interested. When he showed her the treasure chest he’d made for Jamie with his name woodburned into the lid, she teared up.
“You made this for him?”
“After Emma died.” The words came easier than he expected. “He needed something solid. Something that was his. A place to keep his treasures. I made one for his house and here.”
“You’re a good uncle. A good man.”
“I’m trying to be.” He pulled her close again, unable to stop touching her. “Trying to be worthy of you.”
“Slade, you’re already—”
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, frowning at the weather alert. Blizzard warning. Heavy snow starting tomorrow afternoon. Roads closing by early evening.
“What’s wrong?” Mia asked.
“Storm’s coming. Tomorrow. Christmas Eve.” He showed her the alert. “They’re saying it’s going to be bad.”
Her face fell. “The wedding.”
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “You have to be there.”
“I’m the maid of honor. I can’t miss it.” She bit her lip. “But the storm—”
“Then I’m not leaving you alone in it.” The decision was immediate, absolute. “I’ll stay at the inn with you.”
“Slade, they’re booked solid. There’s no rooms—”
“Then we share yours.” His eyes were fierce. “I’m not letting you face that wedding alone. And I’m sure as hell not letting you get snowed in without me there.”
“One bed,” she whispered.
“One bed.” He stepped closer, his hand cupping her face. “You okay with that?”
Her eyes darkened. “Yeah. I’m okay with that.”
“Good.” He kissed her, hard and possessive. “Because after tomorrow night, after we get through that wedding, you’re mine. Completely mine. Understand?”
“Yes.” Her breathless agreement went straight to his groin.
Jamie burst through the door. “Hot chocolate’s ready. And I found the perfect tree for our cabin, Uncle Slade. Come see.”
Slade rested his forehead against Mia’s, breathing hard. “That kid’s timing.”
She laughed. “He’s perfect.”
As they followed Jamie back outside, Slade kept Mia’s hand in his. Tomorrow they’d face the wedding, the storm, the shared room. Tomorrow night, everything would change.
But right now, watching her laugh with Jamie as they picked out his tree, watching her fit into his life like she’d always been there—this was everything.
This was home.