Chapter Five #2
I showed him my carefully piped snowman. "This is how you do it."
"Show-off."
We decorated cookies, ate warm ones straight off the sheet, and talked. He told ranch stories—cattle mishaps, equipment disasters, the time a calf got stuck in the barn.
"That's when I realized being the boss means sometimes you're elbow-deep in mud at three in the morning," he said. "Dad just handed me a beer and said, 'Welcome to ranch management.'"
I laughed. "Sounds like he has a dry sense of humor."
"Comes with the territory." The muscle in TJ's jaw tightened. "But honestly? I'm terrified. Three generations worked that land. What if I screw it up?"
"Hey." I squeezed his hand. "You love that ranch. You know it inside and out. That's what makes you the right person."
He looked at me for a long moment. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Say exactly what I need to hear."
“Right back ‘atcha.”
He kissed me—soft and grateful—and I melted against him.
By afternoon, cookies covered every surface. We settled on the couch with Twinkle sprawled between us, the fire crackling, Christmas tree lights twinkling.
"Hey," TJ said. "Want to try the hot tub?"
"In this cold?"
"Best time. Trust me."
Twenty minutes later, we hurried out to the deck in thick robes we found hanging in the master bedroom closet.
Snow was still falling, wind gusting hard.
TJ lifted the cover. Steam rose in thick plumes. "Perfect,” he grinned.
I dropped my robe and climbed in fast, the cold biting before I sank into the heat. TJ followed, and we both sighed.
"Holy hell," I breathed. "This is heaven."
"Told you."
Snow fell around us, landing on our hair and shoulders before melting. The world was silent except for bubbling water and wind through trees.
"This is surreal," I said. "Yesterday I was heartbroken. Today I'm in a hot tub on Christmas with a handsome cowboy."
"You think I'm handsome?"
"Fishing for compliments?"
"Maybe."
I moved closer, water swirling. "You know you are."
He lifted me onto his lap in one smooth motion. Water sloshed over the edge. I straddled him, fingers gripping his shoulders, his palms at my hips. He kissed me—deep and hungry this time—and his touch roamed up my back, down to cup my ass, pressing me closer. I felt his length harden beneath me.
The water made everything slow and sensual. I rolled my hips and he groaned.
"You're killing me."
"Good."
His hands cupped my breasts under the water, thumbs brushing my nipples until they were tight. When he lowered his head and took one in his mouth, I gasped.
"Please."
"What do you need?"
"You. Now."
He positioned himself at my entrance. I lifted slightly, then sank down slowly, taking him in.
The angle was steep, tight. We both made sounds of pleasure.
I started to move, riding him with slow rolls. His grip helped guide me, pulling me down harder.
"That's it," he said. "Take what you want."
I picked up the pace. One hand slipped between us, finding my clit, rubbing in circles while I moved.
"I'm close."
"Come for me."
His fingers pressed harder and I shattered, crying out, water splashing everywhere. He thrust up through my release, then followed with a groan.
We stayed like that, both gasping, until the heat became too much.
"Inside?" TJ suggested.
"Inside."
We hurried back into the cabin, wrapped in robes. Twinkle gave us a knowing look from the couch.
"Shower?" TJ said. "Rinse off the chlorine?"
"Together?"
"If you want."
I grabbed his hand and led him upstairs.
The master bathroom shower was ridiculous—a two-person rain shower with multiple jets. TJ turned on the water, testing the temperature.
We stepped under the spray. Hot water cascaded from multiple directions. I tipped my head back, letting it wash away the chlorine.
When I opened my eyes, TJ was watching me.
"What?"
"Just memorizing this."
"We have time," I said, but my voice wavered.
He stepped closer, backing me against the tile. "Then let's make the most of it."
He kissed me—slower this time, more exploratory. His touch mapped my body. I traced the muscles of his chest, the ridges of his abs.
He turned me to face the wall. "Hands on the tile."
I braced myself. Water streamed down my back. His soapy hands washed my shoulders, my back, down to my hips—slow and sensual.
When he cupped my breasts from behind, I moaned.
"Sensitive?"
"Yes."
He played with my nipples until I was squirming, then his fingers moved lower. Between my thighs.
"Spread your legs."
I did, and his touch found me—already wet again. He stroked slowly, building me up.
"TJ, please—"
"Patience."
But there was strain in his voice. He was hard against my back, and I pushed into him.
"Need you."
He entered me from behind in one smooth thrust. The angle was deep, and I braced harder against the tile.
"Okay?"
"More than okay. Move."
He set a steady rhythm, one hand gripping my hip, the other working my clit. The shower amplified every sound.
"So good."
He increased his pace, thrusting deeper. His fingers worked expertly and the pressure built fast.
"Come on," he growled. "Give me another one."
I shattered, crying out. He followed seconds later, my name rough on his lips.
After, we actually showered—washing each other's hair, trading gentle touches. By the time we got out, our fingers were wrinkled.
Dressing in comfortable clothes—me in fresh pajamas and my oversized Montana State sweatshirt, him in his jeans and henley—we headed downstairs.
I started dinner while he checked on Twinkle.
"What are we making?"
"Spaghetti carbonara, Caesar salad, garlic bread."
"Sounds wonderful."
He appeared in the kitchen. "What can I do?"
"Tear lettuce?"
We moved around each other easily. He tore lettuce while I made dressing. I grated cheese while he set the table. When we both reached for the pepper mill, our hands collided.
"Sorry."
He didn't let go. Just held my hand, thumb stroking my knuckles.
The timer dinged. I stepped back, grinning.
Dinner was simple but exactly right. We ate by candlelight with holiday jazz playing softly. When he told me about a cow that once chased him across a field, I laughed so hard I had to set down my fork.
After dinner, we moved to the couch with wine. I pulled up Miracle on 34th Street on the computer—the movie I'd watched every year since childhood.
"You know every scene," TJ observed as I mouthed along to the dialogue.
"Family tradition. We watch this every year."
"That's nice."
Twinkle stretched and climbed onto the couch, curling up with her head on my lap.
"She's got us trained."
"She's smart like that."
We sat quiet for a while, watching the movie, petting the puppy.
Then TJ spoke. "Tinsley?"
"Yeah?"
"About Livingston." He shifted to face me. "It's a nice town. And there are dental practices that would be lucky to have you."
My heart hammered. "TJ—"
"I know it's fast. But I also know I haven't felt like this maybe ever. And I don't want tomorrow to be goodbye."
"I don't either," I admitted. "But what if this is just Christmas magic?"
"What if it's not?" He squeezed my hand. "What if walking away would be the biggest mistake?"
I looked at him—really looked. At this man who'd crashed into my life with a puppy and a storm.
"My lease is up in March," I heard myself say. "I need to finish my clinical hours before I can take my boards."
"Livingston has two dental practices. I could ask around."
"You'd do that?"
"Tinsley." He cupped my face. "I'm falling for you. Hard. And I think you might be falling too."
"I am," I whispered. "Which is crazy because we barely know each other, but—"
"But sometimes you just know. Sometimes everything just... fits."
"Like puzzle pieces."
"Exactly."
He kissed me—soft and full of promise.
"I'll think about it," I said. "I'll look into practices in Livingston."
"That's all I'm asking."
I settled against him, tucked under his arm, Twinkle snoring between us. The movie played on, but I barely watched. My mind was spinning with possibilities.
A new job. A new town. A new life.
Outside, the storm continued, but gentler now—steady snow instead of violent gusts. By tomorrow, it would be over.
Tomorrow, we'd have to leave this bubble and face reality.
But tonight we had this. This cabin, this fire, this sleeping puppy, this feeling that maybe the universe had delivered exactly what we both needed.
"Merry Christmas, TJ."
"Merry Christmas, Tinsley."
He wrapped his arms around me, and we stayed like that until the fire burned low and the movie ended, neither of us wanting to move, neither of us ready to let this perfect day end.
Tomorrow could wait.