Chapter 9
“We’re back on the ground.”
“We are,” I mumble into Bellamy’s soft skin. We had sex twice more after our post-breakfast romp. Now we lay in a boneless and tangled heap on the rug in front of the fire.
I never want this to end. Never want her to leave my arms again.
She burrows deeper against me, her dark hair a wild halo around us.
Lazily, I trace a line up her arm. Kiss the scar on her bicep where she jumped out of a tree as a kid and impaled herself with a branch.
Outside, the sun is bright, the light blasting through the cabin windows. Like the blizzard never happened. In truth, I thank my goddamn lucky stars for that blizzard. It brought me closer to Bellamy.
There’s still so much we haven’t said. Words, explanations I need. But for now, this is enough. We have three more days to broach the rest.
With a small sigh, she lifts her dark head. The rest of her remains hidden beneath the blanket. “Cowboy, I think you made me sorer than the tree did.”
“And I’m thinkin’ you’re more beautiful than I remember, Bell.” With her puffy pink lips and glazed well-fucked eyes, looking away is impossible.
A blush creeps into her cheeks, making her even prettier. “You’ve always been a charmer, Hank Blue.”
I shift, tracing her candy-apple cheek with my thumb. Study every detail of her perfect face. Those big brown eyes and soft voice melt my insides. This is Bellamy in all her beauty. “Been too damn long, if I say so myself.”
“With who?” Amusement laces her voice. “Your ex-wife?”
“No. With anyone.”
“Hank.” She searches my expression with careful eyes, her small hand frozen on my chest. “You haven’t been with anyone else?”
“Nah, sugar. I haven’t.” I chance a question that could kill me, unease seeping in. “What about you?”
She clears her throat, never looking away. “No.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, a pleased sound rumbling out of me. It’s what I fucking thought. She doesn’t want anyone else either. We share a bond that can’t be measured. We’ll always come back to us, no matter how long it’s been.
What would she say if she knew I still consider her my wife? Still consider her mine. Would she laugh? Squirm? Maybe try to leave? If she did, she wouldn’t get far. Not this time.
She opens her mouth to respond, but she’s cut off when Zelda bounds happily over the heap of blankets. She laughs as the dog licks her face in greeting, then she pulls her down into the blankets with her to rub her tummy.
Love, lust roar through me.
Goddamn, how has it been three years? There’s not a chance in hell I lose her again. The earth could open up and drag her down, and I’d launch myself after her.
But I have to go slow. Hold myself together. If I rush or push, I’ll scare her.
She sits up, the blanket barely covering her. Stretching out her arms, she lets out a big yawn. “We should probably make ourselves useful today.”
I groan. Back to reality. Going out on the ranch is the last thing I want to do. I’d rather stay here with her.
With my hand on the curve of her back, I yank her to me. “What’re you gonna do?”
“I can paint while you’re out.” Brows pinched, she worries her lip between her teeth. “Not that it’ll be any good.”
“Sugar, what are you talkin’ about?” I run a hand up her smooth thigh.
“Nothing.” She looks away, effectively ending the conversation, and zeroes in on the tree in the corner of the room. “I could decorate the tree. It’s almost Christmas.”
Which reminds me…I never gave her an answer about staying for Christmas. It’s what I wanted. A second chance.
“Listen, Bell.” I turn my face toward her.
The buzz of the walkie kills the mood.
“Sure could use your help, son. Snow’s clearing and we got a few straggling customers.”
With a deep breath out, I sit up. It’s always busiest right before Christmas. Late planners. Unexpected holiday guests. But that’s what the spirit of the season is all about.
Dread and sadness move through me. This’ll be our last Christmas running the farm. It’s time to admit that to myself. I’m all out of options.
“Can I go?” She slips on my shirt, a flash of flannel in my periphery. “And help?”
I frown. “You need to rest.”
Her lips twist, her brows lifting. “Like we did all morning?”
“Damn it, Bell.” She’s got me there.
“Please, Hank. For old times’ sake.” She scoots closer, only stopping when she’s in my lap, her warm legs wrapped around my waist. The steady thump of her heart beats against my chest. “Let me go.” Her mouth moves to my throat, her touch draining me of my free will.
I smooth a hand down her hip and squeeze her ass. “Best get ready to work, sugar.”
“I can barely move, Hank.”
I sit back in the saddle of the snowmobile and glance over my shoulder at Bellamy. Her petite frame’s swallowed by my overalls and a thick Carhartt jacket. A sparkly pom hat sits on top of her head, slipping low and mussing her hair.
“Deal with it.” I grip the throttle, accelerating. If she’s coming outside to work, she’s gonna be warm. “And drink your hot cocoa.”
“You’re a cruel man.” Despite the words, a small, happy sigh slips from her lips. As we ease slowly toward the tree farm, she loops her free arm around my waist and sips from her tumbler.
I like that sound. Her touch. Hell, I liked everything about this morning. I like her beside me. The sight of her beautiful smile. Showering together before we left. It was like old times.
I’ve spent so long hoping for this. Now I’m fucking terrified. Because what happens after Christmas? She goes back to San Francisco? Forgets this ever happened? I don’t fucking think so.
A flash of red in the distance catches my eye. Grinning, I gun the snowmobile. When Bellamy squeals, her hand tightening just below my ribcage, I let out a chuckle. I bounce over a pile of snow, and soon, we’re pulling up beside the big red barn.
I wait for her to climb off, then I follow, taking it all in. It’s like the blizzard never happened. The sun shines bright. The snow is powdery and white, making the farm seem like the picture-perfect destination for the holidays.
And it is.
For three more days.
Townspeople are out in full force. The best kind of chaos. Oohing and aahing over trees. Lined up at the hot chocolate truck. Employees lift their hand to me, some going wide-eyed when they see Bellamy. By dinnertime, my ex-wife will be a hot topic of conversation in town.
Christ, how the hell am I gonna tell Bellamy the truth about this place? She loves this damn farm as much as I do.
When my father comes into view, dread curls in my gut. Thumbs hitched in his belt loops, he sidles toward us, bringing the familiar scent of pipe and apple cider with him. “You two survived the blizzard.”
“And each other,” Bellamy says half seriously, half amused.
I breathe out slowly through my nose. “Where do you need us, Pops?”
He grins like he knows what we’ve been up to. “We’ve got one last Christmas rush, son.” His jovial expression dies, voice choking up. “Let’s get to it.”
My throat tightens in response.
An arm grips my bicep. Bellamy frowns up at me, questioning, curious.
I don’t explain. All I want is to get through this. I look down at her. “This time, try to stay unburied.”
She gives me a shove and sticks out her tongue, then she waddles away in the thick winter clothing I’ve put her in.
Chuckling, I head for a family wearing matching winter jackets. They surround a massive fir tree and point excitedly. I doubt their small Honda can haul it away, but that doesn’t stop my chest from lighting up at the glee on their faces.
An hour later, I wave goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Yeager, who own the bake shop in town, my gloves dirtier than when I arrived. I search the farm, the thick curtain of trees, for Bellamy. When I don’t find her, I tug off my hat and run a hand through my hair.
“Hey, Pops,” I call out. “Have you seen—” A hard icy ball slams into the back of my neck, cutting me off.
The giggle that comes after has me turning.
Bellamy stands near the red barn, small chunks of snow clinging to the fabric of her mittens.
She wiggles her brows. “Let your guard down, cowboy.”
“Now you’re gonna get it.” Grinning, I dip down and scoop a handful of snow. I pop back up, packing it tight, only to be hit in the chest with another ball of snow.
I lob mine at her, and when it smacks into her thigh, she squeaks.
I take off after her, cold air rushing over me, bringing me to life.
With another squeal, this one louder, she bolts.
I catch her behind the barn, pressing her back against the red siding.
Her cheeks are flushed, her nose a cute shade of pink.
White snowflakes cling to her lashes. I pull her closer, inhaling messy chestnut hair.
It smells like pine and coffee and burnt sugar.
“Caught you, sugar.”
“Lucky me.” She hums, a coy smile tugging at her lips.
A laugh busts out of me, straight from the chest, the heart.
Fuck but I haven’t been this happy in a long time.
She curls her hands over my shoulders, her expression turning confused. “Hank,” she breathes. “Is this bad? What we’re doing?”
“What are we doin’?”
Her lips flatten in that familiar scold. “Hank.”
“Is anyone else touchin’ you like this?” I tip her chin up, nudge my hand to the back of her neck, run my fingers through the silky strands of her hair.
“No.” Her sigh is sweet and sexy.
“Then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Far as I’m concerned, it’s exactly right.
“But we’re divorced.” Worry, uncertainty flare in the depths of her amber eyes.
That can be changed.
“Does it matter?” When she’s silent, I swallow. My heart’s ready to beat itself out of my chest. “Listen, Bell. You asked me to stay for Christmas. Do you still want that?”
“Yes,” she says. “I want it.”
As long as you want me, you have me.
I catch her mouth with mine. Sighing, she melts into me and hungrily returns my kiss. She’s soft and warm in my arms. Nothing has ever felt this sure.
When she pulls away, she scours the stalls. “Where are Billie Jean and Thriller?”
I flinch at the mention of my favorite buckskin quarter horses, but I school my features quickly. “Think Pops put ’em in the pasture.”
Despite my even tone, my gut sinks. It’s a lie, but how do I tell her we sold them in hopes of saving the farm and the cabin, only to find it still wasn’t enough? It’ll break her damn heart.
Her attention lingers on me like she knows I’m lying. Then, with a small shake of her head, she takes my hand and smiles. “C’mon. Let’s get back to work.”
Together, we head back to the large lot, hands hanging in the space between us, our fingers tangled. Halfway there, Bell stops abruptly, her hand dropping from mine. I pull up short, examine her. She stands frozen, her gaze on a family that’s just pulled in.
When the man climbs out of the driver’s side of the SUV, my heart sinks.
Fuck.
I haven’t seen my best friend in two damn long years.
Clint slaps his hands on his jeans, his eyes going wide with surprise. “Shit, man, it’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
“Miss you around Buck’s.”
The crunch of boots on snow is followed by the appearance of a woman dressed in a cardigan and leggings. Clint’s wife Laura rounds the hood of the SUV. Blond hair. Pretty blue eyes.
Clint and Laura were our partners at Tuesday night trivia at Buck’s.
Some of our best friends during our marriage.
It took all I had to go to their wedding after Bellamy left.
After that I was like a pulled thread, slowly unraveling.
I stopped going to Buck’s. Stopped hanging around with Clint. It was too painful.
And in Laura’s arms, a pink-cheeked baby in a My First Christmas snowsuit.
My stomach drops. It should have been us. The bitter thought takes up residence in my brain.
“Hey, Clint.” Bellamy’s voice carries soft and clear behind me. “Laura.”
“Bell, you’re back.” My friend looks from me to my ex-wife and back again, his lips parted in shock.
“Just for Christmas.”
I tense. Fuck. I have to tell her. Soon.
Bellamy steps forward, eyes widening when she sees the baby. I watch her spine shift to steel, her lips twitching. “You had a baby, Clint? Never would have guessed.”
He laughs. “You’re tellin’ me. I’d be better off raisin’ kittens.”
Bellamy smiles at him, at Laura. “Congratulations.” She peers at the baby. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Thanks.” Laura beams. “This is Rosie.”
“I think we have the perfect tree for you and Rosie.” Bellamy gestures toward the path leading into the grove. “Why don’t you take a look? We’ll be right there.”
I swallow hard as the trio walks away, pushing away the bitterness, the pain.
Then warmth as Bellamy slips her hand into mine and squeezes. Like she knows just how much that hurt. Like she knows just how much I need her touch.