Page 53 of Snow Harm, No Foul

His chest rumbles when he hums, taking my hand to guide us from my table and through the crowded bar. I don’t question where we’re going, already knowing. There’s only one place we’ll have any semblance of privacy.

A couple of minutes later, he’s opening the door to his office for me and ushering me inside. He closes us in and lingers by the door, fidgeting with his belt buckle.

“I’m good to have an office quickie, but with how fast I drank that daiquiri, I might have to go to the washroom first,” I warn lightly.

“As much as I’d like to take you right now, I don’t want anyone here to hear you. Just missed you, baby girl. Wanted a minute with just us.”

My heart attempts to fly straight out of my chest. Suddenly, he’s too far away, and he must share that feeling because he comes right to me. I’m scooped into his arms before I can blink and carried to the bed.

A sense of déjà vu hits when he sits us on the edge and steadies me on his lap.

I drag my nails over the clean edge of his beard and kiss the tip of his nose. “I missed you, too.”

“You’ve sold almost all of your slippers.”

“Don’t worry, I saved you a pair.”

Genuine interest flares in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“The biggest pair I had. I hope they fit.”

“I’d squish.”

“I don’t know how anyone could ever consider you a grump. You’re such a teddy bear.”

“Only to you, Ivy,” he declares, as if I don’t already know that.

“Mmhmm, I’m so lucky.”

His expression grows serious, and I move my hands to the back of his neck, toying with the hair there.

“When I was growin’ up, my mother used to try and get me to write a wish and stick it on the Christmas tree. I always thought it was a crock of shit. She told me that I could wish for anythin’ in the entire world, and it might come true one day. A million dollars or a signed jersey from my favourite football player. If I could go back and choose to write somethin’ on a slip of paper, there’s only one thing I’d wish for,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

“What?”

“This. All of this. You.” He pauses, moving a hand between us to rub my belly. “The baby we’re goin’ to have.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I sniff while blinking them away. His beard scrapes against my palms when I take his face into my hands and bring us nose to nose.

“I’d wish for this, too.”

Every single time.