Page 60 of Moonlight & Matrimony (Oak Ridge #2)

Ivy

? Shake the Frost - Tyler Childers

W ith the holidays looming and Christmas eve just two days away, Luca agreed to hold off on our date, and I’m beginning to regret that decision.

We have yet to define our relationship since I returned, and uncertainty is creeping in.

Are we supposed to just act like a happy family? Are we starting over?

Every unanswered question swirls in my mind as I browse the new releases at Chapters and Brews, searching for the perfect pick for the book box I’m throwing together for Paige’s Christmas gift.

My decision is made for me as I come across the perfect Grumpy/Sunshine Cowboy romance.

I pull out my phone to text Cade, hoping Paige doesn’t already have this particular book, when I notice I have an unopened text from Luca.

Luca: Do you have anything planned tonight?

Just the sight of his name on my phone has my chest tightening and butterflies taking flight in my belly. I tap out a response, unable to contain the smile on my face for all of Oak Ridge to see.

Ivy: Not unless a hot bath and smutty romance book counts.

Luca: I’d hate to intrude on your grand plans, but I was hoping I could take you and Ry out for a special mission.

Ivy: I think I could push my plans back until after bedtime. What did you have in mind?

Luca: Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll see you at home in an hour.

Ivy: Bossy.

Luca: Brat.

My core clenches at the familiar exchange.

It’s getting harder to resist the urge to crawl into Luca’s bed each night and take everything I know we both want.

But the timing isn’t right. We might never be fully healed from the trauma, but we’re getting better and that’s more than I could’ve even hoped for just a few short weeks ago.

An hour later, I find lumbersnack Luca standing at the bottom of the porch steps in his red flannel jacket. Rylin is standing beside him, bundled up in her winter coat with a brand new hat and mitts, her small hand clasped in his. The sight sends a sharp pang straight through my heart.

“Ready to go?” Luca asks.

I search his face for the answer to my unspoken question, but his expression gives nothing away. “Where to?” I ask.

It’s Rylin who answers first, her body practically vibrating with excitement as she tugs on Luca’s hand. “Christmas tree!”

“We’re going to pick out a Christmas tree?”

“I was coerced,” Luca says with a chuckle. “You didn’t think this one would let us get away with not having a tree, did you?”

“By coerced, do you mean she looked at you with her big blue eyes and asked you to get a tree and you immediately bent to her every whim?”

He shrugs. “That about sums it up.”

“Sucker.”

He quirks an eyebrow with an unspoken insinuation and I have to clench my thighs at the thought of Luca on his knees for me. Down, girl.

I clear my throat. “Oook. Let’s go!”

Luca guides Rylin to his truck, carefully securing her into her car seat.

I catch his gaze from the passenger seat.

He winks, then taps the hood and strides over to the driver’s side.

A chill fills the cab when his door swings open, so I scrub my palms over my jeans, then bring my fists up to my mouth and blow hot air on my cold fingers.

Luca reaches into the glove box and pulls out a pair of purple knit mittens, laying them on my lap.

My brows draw together in confusion. “Where did you get these?”

“Easy, Trouble. Nana made them for you. I haven’t been with anyone else.”

I stare into his amused eyes, “I wasn’t…”

“You were,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And it’s cute.”

Rolling my eyes, I shove my hands into the soft wool. Was I a little jealous at the thought of Luca with someone else? Maybe. But I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

Luca types the address into the GPS and pulls away from the curb, leading us down the road towards the small tree farm on the outskirts of Oak Ridge.

I watch Luca’s hands flexing on the steering wheel, my thoughts spiraling to those hands doing much more salacious things.

He must feel me staring at him because he reaches out to stroke my thigh, and it has goosebumps erupting over my flesh at the gentle brush of his fingers over my jeans.

In an attempt to distract myself from the heat building in my core, I turn my focus to the changing landscape. All the air whooshes out of me as we near a familiar overpass. Suddenly, my vision blurs and my body begins to shake uncontrollably, my mind thrust back into the past.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…” Luca’s voice is muddled, and we’ve stopped moving.

“Mommy?” Rylin’s voice is frantic as my door swings open.

“She’s okay, Bug. Just give us a minute, alright?”

“Okay.”

In one swift motion, my belt is unbuckled, and I’m being pulled outside by a pair of strong arms. My legs wrap around Luca’s waist as I bury my face in his collar, soaking in his woodsy scent.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Stay with me. Tell me five things you can see.”

I scan my surroundings, a shiver racking my body as I avoid looking at the creek bed below. “Trees. Road. Truck. Sky. Rylin.”

“Good girl.” Luca places me back on my feet, cupping my cheeks as his eyes lock on mine. “Now, four things you can touch.”

“Mittens. Jacket. Hat. You.” As the cold bite of the winter breeze settles over my exposed face, my breathing begins to steady.

“Three things you can hear?”

“Engine. Wind. Breathing.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Sawdust and winter.”

“Winter?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Shut up! The seasons have a smell. You should know that, Canada.”

“Ok. And one thing you can taste?”

My gaze flicks to his lips and back to his eyes, silently asking for permission. He nods and brings his lips down to mine in a gentle featherlight kiss.

“You,” I whisper.

Luca

I fucked up. Spectacularly. We stand like that for a few minutes, Ivy slowly coming back to herself after what looked like a particularly brutal panic attack. Once she’s steady, I lead her back to the truck.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, buckling Ivy into the passenger seat. “We can just go home.”

I’m just about to close the door when she stops me with a hand on my forearm. “No. I don’t want to let this ruin my life anymore. I have to get past this. Let’s go get our tree.”

Fuck, she’s so goddamn strong.

“Ok. If you’re sure.” I brush a strand of hair away from her forehead.

Her expression turns tender as she squeezes my arm.“I am. Get in the truck, Bossy.”

I chuckle, taking the use of the playful nickname as a good sign.

“What about this one?” I ask, pointing to a tall fraser fir. Rylin stares at the tree, assessing its form with her mitten glad hand tapping at her chin. I can't help but grin at her.

“Nope.” She dismisses the tree without a backward glance, skipping off down a path between the evergreens.

Ivy snorts, her shoulder bumping into me as we follow closely behind Rylin. When her hand brushes mine inside the soft wool mittens, I can’t help but take it in my much larger palm, continuing down the path hand in hand.

“Look!” Rylin says, pointing to a short but very full balsam fir.

She jumps up and down on the spot, impatiently waiting for her mom and me to approach and give our seal of approval.

What she doesn’t realize is she could have picked the ugliest tree in the lot and we would still be taking it home with us.

“It’s perfect, Bug.” I smile down at the little girl who stole my heart all those months ago, taking in the unfettered joy on her face.

A sudden rush of emotion hits me square in the chest. She’s come so far in such a short amount of time.

I didn’t think I’d ever get to see that expression again or hear the sound of her sweet voice.

I release Ivy’s hand, scooping Ry into my arms as I twirl her in a circle.

“You did so good. Let’s go find someone to help us load it up. ”

An hour later, we’re back in our living room, the earthy evergreen smell surrounding us as I secure the tree to its base.

Rylin is cuddled up under a blanket on the sofa with a sippy cup of chocolate milk and a Christmas movie playing on the flat screen tv.

Standing and brushing my hands over my jeans, I watch as Ivy walks into the room with a huge box labeled ‘X-Mas Decor’.

“Hopefully the lights still work,” she says.

“We spent Christmas between the cabin and the ranch last year so we haven’t put up our own tree since…

nevermind.” She shakes herself out of whatever memory was haunting her and sets the box down on the coffee table.

I walk over to where she’s standing and wrap her in my arms, placing a soft kiss on her hair.

She breathes deeply and relaxes into my hold. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Anytime, beautiful.”

After I’ve managed to convince myself to pull away from her, we set to work untangling the colorful mini lights, working in tandem to drape them around the tree.

“Ok, Ry. Now it’s your time to shine!” Ivy says, holding up a box of mismatched ornaments — some clearly handmade.

“Yes!” she says, throwing off the blanket and leaping to her feet.

I reach into the box and pull out a tiny handprint set in clay, painted to look like Santa, with the words “Rylin, Age 18 months” stamped along the edge. It has a genuine sense of longing stirring my gut. What I wouldn’t give to have known them then.

If it wasn’t already clear what an amazing mom Ivy is, this box would convince me.

It’s filled with memories of a little Rylin.

To think that any man wouldn’t want to be a part of this is truly incomprehensible.

My mind strays to thoughts of a family with Ivy, our child growing in her belly as we decorate a Christmas tree with more precious memories; Rylin as a big sister, teaching her sibling how to press their tiny hand into the clay.