“Looks like I’m not the only one raring to go.”
“Totally your fault. If you were terrible in bed, we wouldn’t have this issue. But, like everything else, you insist on excelling.” My final word huffs from my mouth as Dylan buries himself inside me.
“What were you saying?” Dylan inquires, cocking his brow at me as he moves inside me, filling me completely.
“I have no idea,” I breathe, fisting the sheets. “Just keep going.”
“Daddy, are you and Poppy getting up soon?” Marissa inquires from the other side of the door.
“In just a minute, Cupcake,” Dylan answers, his hips undulating against mine.
“We have to stop,” I whisper, giving his shoulders a slight shove.
“No, we don’t. She can wait five minutes for Cocoa Puffs.”
“I’m not feeding that child Cocoa Puffs.”
Dylan chuckles, but the laughter slides from his face, replaced by intense heat as his hands grip my ass, tilting my hips upward. “I feel you, Sunshine. You’re almost there.”
I manage a sated moan as my climax overtakes me. I bite into his shoulder to hold back the scream, whimpering through a second orgasm immediately following the first. The man should write a book on how to please a woman.
With a grunt, Dylan increases his tempo before emptying himself inside me. He collapses onto his forearms, nuzzling my nose. “Now it’s a good morning. That and I’ve worked up a hell of an appetite.”
He pushes off me, sliding on his boxers, and I take a moment to bask in his glory. Dylan catches my outright ogle, sending me a wink. “Like what you see?”
“You have no idea how much.”
He touches his reddened shoulder, sending me a fake glare. “Judging by the welt you gifted me, I have an idea.”
I slide from the bed, throwing on some clothes, in-between kisses from Dylan. I feel so alive around him. I’m not sure how I survived the last decade away from his laughter.
We stroll downstairs, and I set about making breakfast, per Marissa’s request. Dylan insists I don’t need to cater to his daughter, but the truth is that I enjoy having a family to look after. I’ve spent the majority of my life alone, or worse, as an afterthought. I glean terrific satisfaction watching the West family joke and laugh as they chow down on my cooking.
The best part is that for the first time since my foster parents died, I feel like I belong somewhere.
I feel home.
Dylan wasn’t kidding about the storm. It shuts down Yuletide Acres for the day, but the four of us spend time baking cookies and decorating the house.
By the following morning, I’m desperate to go out into the snow, but my wardrobe is painfully lacking.
“Here. Stop staring out the window and go play.”
I turn to see Estelle, her arms laden with clothing. “What’s all this?”
“You and I are about the same size, lucky for you. You might have to double up your socks, but it’s close enough. It’s too pretty to appreciate from this side of the glass. Don’t worry. Dylan is taking you shopping today for boots and a parka.”
I accept the clothes with a squeal, pulling the woman into a hug before rushing to the bathroom to change.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m appropriately bundled and in the front yard, helping Marissa build a snow castle. It even has a moat with imaginary dragons. Hey, the child has goals.
“Excuse me, Mrs. West?”
I look up, shielding my eyes from the snow glare. A young delivery man stands about ten feet from me, a clipboard in one hand. “Sorry?”
He walks closer; the snow crunching under his boots. “I have your delivery, but I need you to sign here, Mrs. West.”
“I’m not Mrs. West,” I stammer, although I do like the sound of it. Intensely.
“Right on time.”
I turn to see Dylan walking down the driveway, pulling off his gloves and signing the clipboard. “You can take it upstairs. It’s the second door on the left.”
I feel Dylan’s dark eyes on me, and I meet his gaze, suddenly embarrassed by my exchange with the delivery man. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“He thought I was Mrs. West.”
Dylan runs a finger along my cheek. “Is that such a bad thing?”
My heart leaps, but I maintain a cool exterior. To be honest, my exterior at this point is freezing. “Not at all.”
“Come on. I got us something.”
“Us?”
Dylan nods, instructing Marissa to stay in the yard before clasping my fingers. He leads me upstairs, where the delivery men are setting up a giant oak framed bed. “It’s a new bed. One that we can make memories on together.”
Tears back up in my eyes. I didn’t think he understood how difficult it was for me sometimes, feeling Merry everywhere. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. For us. And let me tell you, I plan on making a lot of memories.”
The following day, Dylan has to report to his post running the town, and I’ve got an outing of my own planned.
Since Dylan gave the thumbs up to the Yule festival, I’ve been on a mission to recreate some of the natural decor the founders would have used a hundred years ago. Trees surround the cabin, and I’m sure to find the decorations I’m looking for. On the menu? Some fir boughs to fashion garlands, some river rocks for scene painting for the kids, and pinecones to make Yule wishing cones.
Estelle and Marissa have expressed an interest in tagging along, and I’m always up for company. Especially their company.
But right now, I’m dealing with a minor hiccup. There are no reindeer to be found anywhere, and that certainly puts a damper on Santa’s mode of transportation. My goal with the festival is to show how intertwined the holidays are and make a festive day for everyone in the town. Despite everyone being so welcoming, I know there are a few people who think I should shove my pagan ideals up a reindeer’s bum.
If only I could find a reindeer…
“Damn,” I mutter, hanging up the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Estelle questions, setting a cup of coffee in front of me.
“I’m looking for reindeer, but they seem as elusive as Bigfoot.”
“More so up here,” she remarks with a smile. “Let’s go ask the mayor of this fine town if he has any pull with the local animal farms. I have it on good authority that he’s sweet on you.”
“Well, I’m sweet on him, too. But I wanted to do this myself, as a gift to the town.”
“Poppy, I know you tend toward fierce independence, which I respect. But it takes a village. Come on, we can stop by town hall on the way to the cabin.”
Marissa tears from my grip as soon as she crosses the threshold of the town hall, making a beeline for Troy. The sheriff scoops her up, swinging her around and earning a giggle of approval.
“Good afternoon, ladies. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’re looking for Dylan?”
I nod, giving Troy a peck on the cheek. “I’m here to ask about some reindeer.”
Troy’s eyes widen. “No telling what that man has hiding in his office.”