Page 309 of Mountain Grump

Chapter 182

Ethan

“Tilda.”

She lets out a sleepy grumble, and I smile against her forehead.

My wife is still tired from last night.

After the first time, we held each other as I apologized, in every way I could. But Tilda just kept telling me she understood, that I didn’t need to apologize anymore.

And then we had each other again. Slower.

Then we ate bowls of soup sitting in our chairs outside, feeding peas to Quackers, as I told her how Uncle Jack’s Wilderness Camp came to be.

I told her about the land I donated to the park, land I’d inherited from my parents. And how I knew they’d approve. How in exchange for the land donation—which I got notarized at the post office the day after I received the money—the park agreed to make it official state park property, meaning it would be maintained by the staff.

I told her how I used every dollar I got from Jack to build it.

Then I made her look at my bank accounts, proving once and for all that I still have plenty of money all on my own.

Then, I followed her to the shower. And we ended up back in bed.

So, I’m still tired too. But I know she’s going to want to see this.

“Starlight, wake up.”

She mumbles something about buttholes, and my responding laugh is loud enough that she opens her eyes.

I wait for her to blink a few times. Then I tell her. “It snowed.” I smile. “A lot.”

Her eyes widen, and I recognize my mistake too late.

Tilda scrambles to sit up, pushing against my chest as she does.

And because I didn’t check to see how close I was to the edge of the mattress. And because my brain is too sex fogged to react quickly.

I fall off the bed.

“Oh my gods.” Tilda looks over the edge of the mattress down at me. “I’m sorry.”

I try not to smile. “You’re not sorry.”

She lifts her hand and holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I’m a little sorry.”

I push up onto my elbow. “I appreciate you leaving the floor mat here.”

Tilda climbs off the bed and holds out a hand to help me up. “I couldn’t get rid of it.”

I keep a hold of her hand when I’m standing. Because being here, Tilda in her pajamas, me in my boxer briefs, it all feels right.

Waking up together always feels so fucking right.

Tilda squeezes my fingers. “I couldn’t get rid of the book either.”

“What book?”

Tilda slips her hand from mine and opens the nightstand drawer.