Page 101 of One Kind Goal

“Only if you kiss me.”

Morgan huffed as if kissing him was a huge inconvenience, but the spark in her eyes as she leaned toward him told him the truth. She brushed her lips against his, but as she pulled away, he quickly hooked his hand around the back of her head and deepened the kiss instead. She faltered for all of a millisecond then her hand came up to rest on his shoulder as if she needed something to ground her.

I get it, baby.

It would be so easy to float away on the current kissing Morgan created. He wouldn’t be shocked if he sprouted actual wings and took off.

The kiss revved him up and the need to have Morgan wrapped around him became urgent. With a few quick nips on her bottom lip, Sawyer ended the kiss, but he had full intentions to have his mouth on hers again as soon as they set foot in that cottage.

“I’ll grab the bag.” His voice came out low and raspy. “You get that front door unlocked.”

She saluted him and they hopped out of the SUV. He went around to the back to get the bag while she jogged to the door. By the time he reached her, all he had to do was step inside. He dropped the bag, ready to pick her up and haul her to the bedroom.

Once he got a look at the room around them, however, he froze. Slowly he dropped to his knees at the coffee table, his hand reaching for the framed picture he found there.

He and Nia skating on Brenton Lake. His daughter had the biggest smile on her face. So did he.

Another picture was on the end table by the couch. He and Nia standing beside Charlie’s chopper. Another on the other end table. He and Nia eating pizza. Three more on the fireplace mantle. All of him and Nia having a wonderful time together in Maplehaven.

Sawyer got to his feet again to find photographs on every surface in the cottage. The kitchen was full of them, some stuck to the refrigerator with magnets. The dining room table was covered in a series chronicling the three of them building snowmen behind the cottage.

“There’s more down the hall.” Morgan pointed in that direction.

With a tight throat, Sawyer headed that way, stopping to enjoy each snapshot into fatherhood Morgan had captured. The last one at the end of the hall was of the three of them after their horse-drawn sleigh ride that the driver had taken.

“These are . . . Morgan, these are . . .” He swiped at his left eye and shook his head as he sniffed. “Fuck. I don’t mean to be a crybaby here.”

Morgan’s arms went around his waist and she pressed herself up against him. “I made Sawyer Lundin cry.”

He hugged her back. Probably too tight if the gush of air escaping her mouth was any indication. Too bad. She’d brought this constrictor-like embrace on herself.

“Thank you for doing this.” He loosened his grip. Only a little so he could look down at her beautiful face. “Did you know I have zero printed pictures of Nia and me together? Until now.”

Her mouth opened in shock then she flattened her hands on his chest. “I didn’t know that. I just wanted you to have some tangible memories of your time with her in Vermont.”

“Memories of the first time I’ve actually felt like her father,” he whispered.

Morgan reached up and caught the tear that rolled down his cheek with her thumb. “Lucky for you it’s a lifetime job. You and Nia will make so many good memories now that you’ve worked things out with Carina.”

“You better believe you’re going to be a part of all those good memories, baby.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. “That’s what being a team means, isn’t it?”

Sawyer leaned down and brushed his lips to hers. “Yes, it is.” He glanced at the photos lining the hallway again. “Thank you so much.”

“I do have some pictures in here too.” She knocked her knuckles against the closed bedroom door. “But they’re a little . . . different. A little more Valentine’s Day themed.”

Wiping his eyes a final time, Sawyer put his hand on the doorknob. “Well, let’s see ’em.”

He turned the knob and let out a groan. Pictures of Morgan in racy lingerie littered the room.

Silk.

Lace.

Leather.

“Shit. You are the most beautiful woman ever created.” Then he clenched his jaw. “Who took these?” Some photographer ogling Morgan when she looked like this made him want to beat that photographer with a hockey stick.