Page 12 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Christmas Treat

Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my hand resting protectively over her stomach.

"A Christmas baby," I murmur.

"Well, summer, actually. But conceived around Christmas, so close enough." Her cheeks turn pink in that way that still makes my heart skip. "Guess we know what happened when we had to stay warm during that freak October blizzard."

"Best Christmas present ever."

Later that evening, we're curled up by the fireplace, both of us naked beneath a soft throw blanket. Ivy's head is on my shoulder as I play soft melodies, experimenting with a gentle tune thatmight work as a lullaby. Snow falls steadily outside our windows, and the Christmas tree lights cast everything in a warm, golden light.

It's exactly like that first night, but completely different. There was no Christmas tree then. No joy. Only sadness. Then we were strangers seeking shelter from the storm. Now we're home, building a family, surrounded by twinkling lights and more garland than Santa’s workshop.

"Colt?" Ivy's voice is drowsy, satisfied.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Thank you for choosing me. For choosing us."

I tighten my arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Thank you for not giving me a choice. For being too stubborn to let me push you away."

"I love you," she murmurs against my chest.

"I love you too. Both of you."

My hand finds her stomach again, resting over our growing child. A year ago, I was convinced I didn't deserve happiness. That men like me—men who'd failed when it mattered most—were meant to live with their guilt and isolation.

But Ivy saw something different. She saw a man worth saving, worth loving, worth building a future with.

Outside, the snow continues to fall, just like it did that magical Christmas Eve when everything changed. When a sweet bakery girl crashed her van and stumbled into my life with cookies from my mother and a heart big enough to heal all my broken places.

I adjust my grip on the guitar and begin to play the lullaby again, humming along as I work out the melody. Our baby might not arrive until summer, but I want to be ready.

I want to be the father this child deserves. The husband Ivy deserves. The man I never thought I could be again.

And for the first time in years, I believe I can be.