Page 98 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

“Your contract held.”

“I’m a professional.”

“You’re expensive.”

“I’m excellent.”

“You are.”

I turned to face him. “You keep saying things that make it difficult to pretend I’m humble.”

“I’ve never seen you pretend that.”

“That’s because you respect me.”

Jonah kissed me once, then reached past me to close the laptop.

Dinner waited on the table.

My grandmother’s Sunday gravy covered baked pasta beneath a layer of browned cheese. Jonah had made the cast-iron cinnamon rolls he’d eaten every Christmas Eve since moving into the cabin because they required one pan and almost no planning.

He’d improved the icing after I moved in.

We ate beneath the tree lights while snow tapped softly against the windows.

I’d repaid Jonah the full amount listed on Mabel’s receipt in August using the first account that belonged only to me. Jonah had expanded the bedroom closet across one wall, and every shelf was full.

He hadn’t asked me to discard anything to make room.

He’d built more room.

After dinner, Jonah carried the plates to the sink while I poured two glasses of prosecco.

“The approval qualifies as a milestone,” I said.

“I thought passing your classes was expected.”

“It was. This deserves bubbles.”

He accepted the glass and touched it to mine. “To the good news.”

“To our satellite internet.”

“That wasn’t cheap.”

“It remained connected for an entire call with Daddy. It has earned recognition.”

We drank.

Jonah set his glass down before I finished mine.

“You’re becoming serious,” I said.

“I need to give you something.”

I looked toward the tree. “You already gave me a present.”

“This is different.”