Page 17 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

KELTIE

H olt’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my shoulder while outside, the storm continued to howl.

“I should probably check on Luna,” I whispered, though I made no move to leave the warmth of his embrace.

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Probably.”

Another minute passed. Then another. The spell between us remained unbroken, as if moving would shatter whatever fragile thing we’d created.

Finally, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and loosened his hold. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”

As we stood, I found myself unsteady, whether from exhaustion or emotion, I couldn’t tell. Holt’s hand found the small of my back, guiding me through the sitting room to the bedroom door behind which Luna slept peacefully.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For everything today.”

His eyes, impossibly blue even in the dim light, held mine. “Sleep well, Keltie.”

I watched him walk away before slipping into the bedroom, my heart hammering against my ribs like a teenager after her first kiss.

Inside, Luna was curled around Bunny and her new unicorn, her dark curls fanned across the pillow.

I touched her forehead—cool, thank goodness—and crawled beside her under the covers, my mind racing with thoughts of Holt, Remi, and everything we’d eventually have to talk about.

Morning arrived with a quiet that suggested the storm had passed. Sunlight spilled across the bed as I blinked awake, disoriented for a moment until I remembered where we were. Luna was already up, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed with her stuffed animals arranged in a semicircle.

“Good morning, Mommy,” she said when she noticed me watching. “Sparkles and Bunny are having breakfast. Pancakes with extra syrup.”

I pushed myself up, smiling at her imagination. “That sounds delicious. Will they share with me?”

“These are pretend pancakes,” she explained seriously. “But Flynn said she’s making real ones for everybody.”

“Is she, now? And how do you know that?”

“I went to find her, and she was in the kitchen. She said to tell you breakfast is whenever we want it.” Luna bounced on the mattress. “Can we have breakfast now? Please?”

I glanced at my phone—just after seven. “Let me get dressed first, okay? Then we can go find those pancakes.”

As I collected our scattered belongings, Luna watched with growing dismay.

“Are we leaving?” Her lower lip trembled.

I sat beside her on the bed. “We need to go home today, sweetie. We’ve imposed on the Wheatons enough, and the Goat needs to open tonight.”

“But…” Her voice quavered. “What about the twins? And Buckaroo? And Mr. Holt’s story about Sparkles?”

“Why did you start calling him Mr. Holt instead of Mr. Wheaton?”

Luna sighed and cocked her head. “Because every man here is Mr. Wheaton, Mommy. How would they know who I was talking to?”

While every man here wasn’t Mr. Wheaton, her reasoning still made sense.

“You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

She grinned. “You tell me enough. But you didn’t answer my question. When can we see everyone again?”

“It won’t be long. I promise.” I smoothed a wayward curl from her forehead. “And I’m sure Mr. Holt will finish that story another time.”

Luna clutched Sparkles tighter. “Are the roads still bad?”

I moved to the window and opened the heavy curtains.

Outside, the ranch was transformed into a winter wonderland—snow blanketing every surface, icicles hanging from the eaves, and the distant mountains crisp against the clear blue sky.

But the driveway had been plowed, a dark ribbon cutting through the pristine white.

“Looks like someone’s been busy clearing the roads,” I told her. “We should be able to get home okay.”

Luna’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but she began gathering her toys. The resignation on her small face made my heart ache. This Christmas had been magical for her—for both of us—in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I hesitated, then zipped our bag closed. “Let’s go have those pancakes, and then we’ll figure out the rest, okay?”

Her smile returned instantly. “Okay!”

When we reached the kitchen, the Wheaton family was already gathered for breakfast. Flynn was making pancakes shaped like snowmen, which delighted Luna and the twins. Irish handed me a coffee—black, just as I liked it—and mentioned that Holt had told him my preference.

I kept glancing toward the doorway, trying to keep my curiosity about his whereabouts from being too obvious. When he finally appeared, his hair damp from a shower, my pulse jumped. His eyes found mine, and the slow smile spreading across his face sent warmth spiraling through me.

“Mornin’,” he said, sliding into the empty chair beside me. His knee brushed mine under the table, and I wondered if the contact was accidental or deliberate.

“Morning,” I replied, forgetting my coffee, my breakfast, and everyone else in the room.

“Mommy packed our bag,” Luna announced at large, breaking whatever spell had momentarily entranced me. “We have to go home today.”

A chorus of disappointed sounds erupted from around the table. Sam was the first to speak.

“So soon?” she protested.

“The Goat reopens tonight,” I explained, feeling strangely defensive about our departure. “And we’ve already imposed enough?—”

“You haven’t imposed at all,” Flynn interrupted firmly. “We’ve loved having you both here.”

I looked out the window at the clear day, knowing we had to leave, but wishing we could stay.

“Just let me know when you’re ready,” Holt said, his voice casual, though something in his eyes wasn’t. “There are things I need to take care of in town. Then I was thinking maybe we could go to the Secret Stash for lunch; that’s if you’re hungry by then.”

Luna pushed her plate in my direction. “I’m full, Mommy. Do you want the rest?”

“You haven’t had five bites.”

She sighed at me like she had earlier. “You know Stash pizza is my weakness. Plus, I want to show Mr. Holt my room at home.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Luna, I’m sure Mr. Holt did say he had things to take care of?—”

“They can wait,” he interjected, a smile tugging at his lips. “Got nothing but time for my favorite girls.”

From across the table, Buck snorted into his coffee while TJ elbowed him discreetly. I felt my cheeks warm, aware that everyone was watching our exchange with barely concealed interest.

After breakfast, Luna went to play with the twins one last time while Flynn prepared several containers for us to take home.

“Leftovers,” she explained, setting them in front of me. “And I packed the Christmas cookies Luna helped make yesterday. I thought she might want to show them off at home.”

Tears pricked unexpectedly at my eyes. “That’s so thoughtful. Thank you.”

“And this,” she added, placing a small wrapped package beside the containers, “is a little something from all of us. A memory of your time here.”

“I feel terrible that I didn’t bring anything for any of you,” I protested, embarrassed by their generosity.

TJ smiled from across the table. “Your being here was gift enough. This place needed new energy, and you two brought it.”

“Tell you what. Name the day and time, and I’ll host all of you for dinner at the Goat.”

“You don’t have to do that?—”

“Yes, she does,” argued Irish, interrupting her. “Their prime rib is the best in town.”

Flynn glared at him, and he kissed her cheek.

“Other than yours of course, sweetheart.”

Goodbyes were lengthy and emotional. Sam hugged me tightly as we prepared to leave.

“Don’t forget about our coffee,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” I promised, surprised by how much I wanted to maintain this newfound connection. “And you don’t forget about dinner at the Goat.”

I expected tears from Luna as we finally headed out to Holt’s truck, our bags and gifts loaded inside, but she seemed content knowing she’d see everyone again. Perhaps the presence of Holt beside us eased the transition, a piece of the Wheaton family coming with us.

The drive to town was quick with the cleared roads. Luna chattered excitedly the entire way, recounting Christmas highlights and begging to go sledding again with the twins and Buckaroo. Holt caught my eye when she asked, and I promised we’d see about doing it again when the snow was fresh.

When we pulled up to my house, Luna was out of her booster seat and climbing out of the truck before I’d even unbuckled my seat belt. Holt grabbed our bags and followed us up the walkway, snow crunching beneath our boots.

Inside, the house felt cold and still, as if it too had missed us during our absence. I turned up the thermostat while Luna eagerly grabbed Holt’s hand.

“Come see my room,” she insisted, tugging him toward the hallway. “I need to show you where Sparkles is going to live.”

Holt glanced at me, eyebrows raised in question.

“Go ahead,” I said, smiling at Luna’s enthusiasm. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

As they disappeared up the stairs, Luna’s excited voice explaining the importance of proper unicorn housing, I busied myself in the kitchen.

The familiar routine of measuring coffee grounds and filling the water reservoir calmed my nerves, which had inexplicably tangled at the thought of Holt in my home, seeing my life up close, the small, ordinary details I shared with no one but Luna.

The coffee had finished brewing when Holt walked into the kitchen, minus Luna.

“She’s arranging all her new toys,” he explained, leaning against the counter. “Told me she needed to get everything perfect before I could see the final result.”

I smiled, pouring coffee into two mugs. “She’s very particular about her space. Gets that from me, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing wrong with knowing how you want things,” he replied, accepting the mug I offered.

Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and for a moment, I was transported to the previous night—his arms around me, his lips on mine, the heat that had built between us before common sense prevailed.

“About last night,” I began, then faltered, unsure what I wanted to say.