Chapter 24 Patton
PATTON
Winnie nestles in my arms, her face tilted up toward mine, and every reason I’ve ever had for keeping my distance evaporates like smoke.
My heart drums wildly against my ribs as I take a risk, do something daring like I haven’t done in a long time—embodying the name Maverick.
“I’ll never regret this,” I whisper, giving voice to my thoughts, to how I feel.
“Never.”
I frame her face with my hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, and lower my mouth to hers again. She lets out a shaky breath that I feel against my lips, and then I’m claiming her mouth like I’ve dreamed about doing for weeks—months, maybe, if I’m being honest with myself.
Her fingers thread through mine for a moment before circling my shoulders, pulling me closer. A charge rushes through me with such intensity that I forget how to think.
Her lips part beneath mine and the world goes unfocused, fuzzy around us—nothing exists except the soft sounds she makes and the way she fits perfectly against me. I cradle the back of her head, deepening the kiss, and her thick lashes flutter closed.
My voice comes out deep and husky when I finally pull back just enough to breathe. “You’re going to be the end of me.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Definitely not.”
Her shallow breaths match mine as a hot jolt of pure want rockets through my chest, lighting me up like a rescue flare in the dark.
Our almost-kiss was a miss. The first one we shared in the snow was short and sweet. This is need and want, the tension crackling in every conversation we’ve ever had condensed and exploding like fireworks.
She tastes like hot chocolate and something even sweeter that’s just her. Her hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer. I make a sound low in my throat that I’ll worry about later.
Right now, I don’t care about anything other than Winnie.
How she feels. What she wants. Whether she’s enjoying this as much as I am.
The storm rages outside—wind howling, snow battering the windows like it’s trying to get in—but inside this small room, everything feels still. Perfectly still. Like the earth, moon, and stars finally aligned, granting this special moment just for us.
Pulling back a fraction, I gaze at her in awe. The fact that she is letting me kiss her after everything is astounding. An honor. A testament to her strength.
“You dazzle me, Winnie.”
Cheeks already pink, they lift with a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Despite everything, I can’t help but think this is exactly where I’m supposed to be—snowed in with this bossy little woman, who has curves like the surrounding hills, and a beauty mark above her lip that knocks me out.
She blinks slowly, thick lashes fanning coquettishly, and my head spins. My pulse hammers in my ears as she sighs with delight against my mouth.
What crackles between us—has been for months—is now a live wire, flickering with heat and want.
When we meet again, the kiss climbs mountains, drops into valleys, crosses bodies of water, both of us soaring, scaling, climbing new heights, exploring uncharted terrain.
We pause, breathless, and when her eyes search mine, my chest swells with something I’m not ready to name yet, so I just enjoy the moment as she giggles and wraps herself around me, mouth against mine, and takes what she wants, which just so happens to be what I want as we ride out this kiss and see where it goes.
When we break apart, breath short, I rest my forehead against hers once again.
“What now?” she starts, voice shaky.
I reply with another kiss, laced with a promise.
It’s softer this time, but my stubble scratches lightly against her skin as I sweep her hair from her neck and kiss her there, feather light.
My hand skims down her spine. She inhales sharply, her body squeezing tight against mine.
I feel her trembling as I move my hands down her back, then around to her shoulders, steadying us both.
When we finally pull apart for real, I can’t quite make myself let go. My hands wrap around her shoulders, then her arms, memorizing the shape of her.
Her eyes shine in the dim light.
“I’m really bad at this,” I admit.
Her lips are bee-stung. “At kissing? Because I adamantly disagree—”
I huff a laugh despite the riot in my chest. “At … whatever this is.”
She gifts me with a wide smile. The warmth of it spreads through me like wildfire.
“It’s not really my forte either. Can’t exactly create a plan and neatly outline it with a color-coded system.”
Voice low, I say, “We don’t make sense together.”
She rests her head against my chest and I wrap my arm around her, gripping her close. “No, we really don’t.”
But she doesn’t pull away. Neither do I.
Earlier, I moved boxes to make room for the kids to sit on the cot while they waited for their parents.
Without room on the floor or another surface, and because of the cold, we can’t afford to question the sleeping arrangements.
It’s unavoidable and if I didn’t know better, I’d say the kiss we shared was inevitable.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. We settle onto the narrow cot, snuggled together because there’s no other option in a space this small. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
She fits against me like a missing puzzle piece. Her hair—slightly messy from the squirrel costume head—tickles my chin. We warm each other as snow piles up outside the window.
And for a few stolen hours, I let myself believe this could work.
I wake to voices in the hallway and the horrifying realization that bright, snow-white daylight is streaming through the window.
Winnie stirs against me, blinking groggily. “Is that—?”
“People,” I finish, already moving.
We scramble apart like guilty teenagers who fell asleep during a movie. I’m smoothing down my shirt while she frantically fusses with her hair, which only makes it worse.
The electronic lock clicks—power fully restored—and the door swings open before either of us can compose ourselves.
Mindy stands there with two coffee cups, her eyes going cartoonishly wide as she takes in the scene.
The rumpled cot.
Our flushed faces.
We’re standing as far apart as the room allows, looking anything but innocent.
“Oh,” she says, looking at Winnie. Then at me with a louder, “Oh.”
“The three kids—” Winnie starts at the beginning, ready to relay how this situation came to be.
Mindy’s smile gleams with knowing. “We just came to check on you two since you weren’t answering your phones.”
Thomas appears behind her, sees us, and his eyebrows jump before he puts two and two together and narrows his gaze like he just walked into a crime scene and caught the thieves red-handed. “Well, well, well.”
“Nothing to see here,” I say, which is technically true if you ignore the earth-shattering kiss and the sleeping arrangement.
“Sure,” Mindy says airily, not believing me.
Thomas paces like a detective. “You expect us to believe that you both just look like that naturally?”
“Like what?” Winnie demands.
Thomas chuckles. “Like you got caught together in a supply closet.”
“First aid room,” I correct automatically, then immediately regret it.
“Fully clothed and professional,” Winnie adds with a hushed, “-Ish.”
Thomas puffs up his chest. “You’d better believe I’ll get the truth outta you!”
Winnie and I—even Mindy—exchange a concerned glance because he’s taking this a bit too seriously.
More staff arrive—maintenance, admin, Mayor Barbie herself—all checking on storm damage and asking if we’re okay.
Everyone stares at us with barely concealed curiosity as the building fills with noise and activity.
Given our track record, more than likely, they’re wondering how the building is still standing and why there wasn’t a homicide.
Winnie and I are repeatedly pulled in different directions, most notably apart.
Every time I try to catch her eye, someone else needs her attention.
Finally, I manage to clasp the tips of her fingers as she passes. “We need to—”
“Maverick!” Austin’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Captain wants a debrief.”
“Winnie!” Mindy calls. “Emergency meeting about storm damage!”
We look at each other. Her eyes are uncertain, questioning.
I squeeze her hand discreetly, quickly and then we’re both walking away in opposite directions.