Page 37

Eight Months Later

I shiver, tucking my hands into my pockets when I see the horse-drawn sleigh coming toward my driveway.

It’s been a year since I last rode in one of these things, but the difference is, that was in Charleston, so it was warm out.

This is Maine, and it’s Christmas Day, snowing and fucking freezing.

But I must say, this shit looks like it’s straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Too bad for me, Saylor isn’t into cheesy holiday movies.

Hopefully, she’ll make an exception.

When the man stops the horses at the foot of my driveway, I nod.

“Merry Christmas. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to do this.” I take a few steps forward and climb up the stairs to the carriage, setting a blanket, a thermos of hot chocolate, and two cups inside.

“Happy to do it,” he says with a grin.

“Looks like you’ve got quite the setup here.”

“Trying my best,” I utter nervously, even though I’m not usually a nervous person.

I guess proposing to the woman you love will do that to you.

Stepping down, I jerk my thumb toward my house.

“I’m going to leave the gate open. In about five minutes, come park in front of the house, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” he drawls.

I take off jogging down the driveway, barreling toward my house.

Saylor was on the phone with her parents, and we’re going to head to their place tonight.

Her mom knew I needed a way to distract her, so she called and promised me she’d keep her on the phone till I returned from “cleaning the snow off the roof.” I definitely pay someone else to do that.

I fucking hate snow.

Lucky for me, Saylor didn’t ask questions, leaving me just enough time to rush out and get the driver all squared away.

Walking into my warm house, I’m instantly thankful that Saylor enjoys having the house set to a nice seventy-two degrees, just like I do.

She moved in about four months ago after months of saying she needed independence, paying rent at her apartment even though she spent ninety-nine percent of her nights here.

I was thankful as hell when she decided to let the apartment go and call my house her home.

I text her father, letting him know that his wife can get off the phone with her now.

A moment later, I listen as Saylor says goodbye to her, and then I put the rest of the plan into motion.

“Hey, my sexy little elf,” I yell out.

I reminisce about the slutty outfit she wore to bed last night—a see-through elf costume with crotchless panties—thinking about how good she looked while sucking my dick.

My cock instantly twitches, and my mouth waters.

She looked good riding my face in it too.

“Yeah?” she calls back, walking down the hallway toward me.

“And I told you, my name is Jingle Tits, and I refuse to be called anything else today because I’m in the holiday spirit.”

“Oh, right. Right.” I nod, smirking.

“Hey, can you put your jacket on and help me with a spot on the roof?”

She stares at me, narrowing her eyes.

“You want me to help with the snow?” She taps her chin.

“You do realize that manual labor is not my thing.” She shrugs.

“Can I just give you another naughty blowie instead? That sounds like less work.”

The last thing I want is for her to get suspicious of me.

I want her to be blown away that I’m proposing because she deserves that.

“That sounds good and all, Jingle Tits, but my back’s been sore the past few days,” I lie.

“It’s just this small section on the roof that has a lot of heavy snow on it. If it sits there, it’s not good for the house. It’ll take … maybe five minutes.”

“Fine,” she huffs.

“But if I do this, you have to take a bubble bath with me.”

“Deal,” I say, finding it comical that she’s acting like me having my hands on her tits, sudsing them up, while she sits between my legs in our bathtub is punishment.

I open the closet door and grab her snow pants.

Ideally, I wish it were twenty degrees warmer out today and not snowing, but at least I can make sure she’s warm when I pop the question.

When she plops herself down on the bench, I crouch down, pulling her snow pants on one leg at a time.

I stare up at her, admiring the way her cheeks are a little red from the house being warm.

Her hair is down in natural, frizzy waves, which is my favorite way for her to wear her hair.

She might not have an ounce of makeup on, but that’s when she looks the prettiest, in my opinion.

She’s just her right now, and I love it.

I slide her boots on, and she giggles.

“You’re really trying to butter me up before I do this heavy snow lifting, huh?”

“Figured I should pull out all the stops after you gave me that present last night,” I utter, pulling the bottom of the snow pants over the boots.

A satisfied smile tugs at her plump pink lips.

“Good. Glad you liked the role-playing. Tonight, I’ll be Mrs. Claus, and you’re going to be Santa.”

My movements stop, and I stare up at her, not knowing if she’s serious or not.

She leans forward, a playful expression on her face.

“I even got you a suit, big guy.”

And just like that, my dick is hard.

She stands up, looking at me before pressing a kiss on my chin.

“All right, bitch, give me my hat. I’ve got snow to shovel.”

The last thing I should be is shocked when it comes to Ryder and the lengths he’ll go to surprise me.

However, when I walk outside, fully decked out in snow gear and ready to help shovel the roof, I’m speechless when I’m met with a horse-drawn sleigh, much like the one from South Carolina—only this time, there’s actual snow flowing from the sky and settling on the ground.

I tear my eyes from the two gorgeous horses and look up at him.

“For real?”

“It’s tradition, right?” he murmurs sweetly, pressing a kiss on my temple.

“You should know that even I don’t fuck with the snow on our roof, babe.” He chuckles, taking my mittened hand in his gloved palm.

“What do you say? Care to go for one cold-ass ride?”

“It’s not that bad out,” I tease him, knowing he’s probably shivering.

He didn’t grow up here, and I’m not sure he’ll ever get used to our winters either.

I let him lead me up the stairs, where there’s a small covering over the bench seat, along with a thermos, two cups, and a blanket.

It really is just like a year ago today, but on that night …

it was supposed to be all pretend.

“Away we go,” Ryder whispers a few minutes later when we’re heading down our driveway.

He puts his arm around me and tucks me into his side before draping the blanket over our laps.

I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and nuzzling closer simply because Ryder’s scent alone has become a great comfort to me.

I’ve dated a lot of men, but I was never comfortable enough to be my real, true self in front of any of them.

With him, I’m stripped down to my authentic self, and he doesn’t run away.

Instead, he makes me feel wanted every single second we’re together.

I know our love is still fairly new and there will be hard times ahead, but this is the type of love I never even imagined existed.

For so much of my life, different guys—or …

boys really—made me feel like I wasn’t the girl anyone would ever want to marry.

So much so that I actually believed it and started being okay with just being everyone’s late-night call when they didn’t want to be alone.

I’ve never felt that way with Ryder.

Instead, little by little, he’s silencing all the insecurities that live deep within my soul, always trying to scream out their opinion and remind me of what they think is the truth.

We make our way onto the street, snow falling as the horses carry us along.

It’s like something out of a picture that you’d see hanging up on a wall.

Portland is damn near silent, nothing but the sound of the horses’ feet clicking and the faint noise of the sleigh bells.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” I whisper, peeking up at him.

“Thank you for planning this. It’s magical.”

He cranes his neck down, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful. I love you.” He nods toward the thermos.

“I even made you some gourmet hot chocolate. Right out of those packets you love so much.”

My smile widens.

“You, Mr. Cambridge, are definitely getting special treatment tonight after doing this,” I say with a giggle.

“Think … last night, but even better.”

His eyes widen.

“Does that mean … butt stuff too?” he says in my ear before wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, definitely.” I nod quickly.

“A horse-drawn sleigh on Christmas. And I didn’t have to shovel snow? Butt stuff for days, handsome.”

He bobs his head up and down with a goofy grin on his lips.

“All right, all right.”

We both laugh, and I settle against him once more as we veer toward a small pull-off that looks out at the harbor.

The sleigh comes to a stop, and the driver stands.

“Just have to check something on one of the horse’s bridles,” he says and climbs down.

Once he’s gone, Ryder slides his arm out from behind me and positions his body toward mine so that his knees are pushing against my own.

“So, I have a few things I want to say to you, if that’s okay?” he asks, his blue eyes cutting into mine.

“I know it’s cold out, so I won’t take too long.”

Nervousness fills my body, and he flashes me a grin.

“Nothing bad, babe, I promise.”

I sigh in relief, nodding swiftly.

“Okay, good.”

He inhales sharply, like he’s trying to gather himself before letting it out.

“It’s crazy to think that a year ago, I took a chance on getting punched in the face by showing up at your work in Charleston and asking you to spend Christmas with me.” He puts his hands on my legs, giving them the slightest squeeze.

“When you walked out of the hospital on Christmas Eve, completely lost in your own world and not at all moping that you had to work the holiday, I was in complete awe of you. It’s never been lost on me how big your heart is, Saylor, but in that moment, when I saw you so clearly for the woman you were, I knew I could never just be your friend.” He breathes out a laugh.

“I also knew that the fact that I’d gotten on a plane on Christmas Eve to surprise you meant I was in much deeper than I’d thought.”

Tears fill my eyes from his words, not because he’s never told me things like this—he has, a lot—but because right now, it just feels different.

This day, Christmas Day—it connects us.

It’s the day I knew that I was in love with my brother’s best friend, even though I continued to fight it.

“You are the funniest person I know. You’re also the kindest and most hardworking. Coming home to you after a hard day at the arena feels like winning the lottery, and I don’t care how cheesy that sounds.”

I couldn’t form a word if I wanted to.

I just sit here in this sleigh, not feeling the least bit cold because I’m too distracted by his words.

“But before you start telling me everything that’s wrong with you, I’ll do it for you. You’re a mess. You are loud. You hate silence. You’re the most indecisive person I know, and you’re unorganized as hell. I’m scared to talk to you before you drink your morning coffee, and even though you always talk a big game that we’re going to stay up and watch TV together, you end up asleep and snoring beside me within ten minutes.” He smiles.

“You don’t really like compliments even though you enter a room, making everyone stop and stare at you because you’re so fucking beautiful. You complain about your job even though you love what you do.”

As more tears spill from my eyes, Ryder takes his gloved hand from my leg and swipes them away.

“All those things, the good and the bad … I love them. I love that you don’t know where your cell phone is a lot of the time. And I adore that you’re grumpy as hell in the morning when you first wake up—I find it cute. When you fall asleep, watching TV? You snuggle against me. And the look on your face? Pure peace.” He stops, swallowing.

“I guess what I’m saying is, whatever version of you I get to be around? I want it. And I’ve known for a while now that my purpose on this earth was to love you, Saylor. One day, my time on the ice is going to run out. Hockey will become my past, and this life of extravagance may change. But as long as I have you, I’ll be the richest motherfucker on the planet.”

He reaches in the pocket of his snow pants, and when he pulls out a small box, my tears become a steady stream, and a cry escapes my throat.

“Oh my God,” I whimper as he slides off the bench and onto a knee.

Opening the box, he looks up at me through his own tear-soaked lashes and bright blue eyes.

“I love you so much, baby. I’ve liked you for a long damn time, but I never in my wildest dreams thought a knucklehead like me would have a chance with my dream girl—you. And before you figure out that you could have anyone on the planet, I’d love to make you my wife.” He sniffles.

“What do you say, Saylor Sawyer? Will you marry me?”

I barely even look at the ring before I throw my arms around him and pull him up onto the bench.

My lips attack his, and I cry harder as I kiss him.

“Yes.” I practically squeal out the word.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He grips my nape, kissing me roughly.

There’s a hint of possessiveness in the way his lips capture mine, and I’m totally here for it because I want to be his and only his from now until forever.

In fact, there’s nothing more I want than that.

He pulls back. Yanking my mitten off, he slides the ring onto my finger.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he rasps, wiping his eyes with his glove.

“Damn it, Saylor, you just went and made me the happiest motherfucker in the world, baby.”

He’s crying.

I’m crying. We’re both blubbering messes on the side of the road.

I understand why I’m so emotional.

Never in my life did I think I’d be loved in the way that this man loves me.

And loving someone so deeply is something I could only dream of.

But watching Ryder Cambridge fall apart because he’s so happy that I said yes?

There are not enough words to explain how surreal that feels.

I hold my hand out, staring down at a ring that is the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever seen.

“It’s so perfect,” I whisper, slapping my other hand over my mouth.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” I drop my hand before cupping his cheeks and dragging his mouth to mine.

“I love you so fucking much, Ryder,” I cry into his mouth.

“I can’t lie though—I’m not sure how you’ll top Christmas next year.”

“You probably said that last year too.” His lips grin against mine.

“Can we go home now? I want to make love to my fiancée.”

“Oh … fiancée ,” I whisper, pulling him closer.

“I like the sound of that.” I kiss him before I rub my nose against his.

“Yes, please.”

As he calls the driver back over, I can’t stop staring down at my hand.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so wide, and no matter what I do, the tears—happy ones—keep on falling.

I’m going to be the wife of one of the greatest men I’ve ever known.

What the fuck even is this life?