“Oh, don’t even get me started on begging.” Ash grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs toward their giant shared room.
An hour and a half later, we were bundled up in leathers and riding across a winter wonderland.
We left the town behind and tore down a country road that reminded me of a scene from a Christmas card.
Red barns stood out against a snowy background.
Chimneys puffed smoke into the air, and kids scrambled through the snow to build snowmen.
At least one group engaged in a snowball fight, and for a minute I thought Ash was going to stop in the middle of the road and join in.
I rode behind him, my arms around his waist and the rumble of his Harley beneath us.
Cold air cut into the sliver of space between my helmet and my scarf, but the rest of me was completely protected from the frigid temperatures.
I’d never felt more alive as Ash turned onto a narrow lane marked with a rustic looking sign.
The letters were too old to make out, but I thought I read PINE at the beginning.
The lane wound through thick woods.
The pine boughs drooped toward us, ready to unload a burden of snow on our heads at any second.
We rounded a curve, and the cabin that came into view took my breath away.
I’d thought the house in town was a fairytale, but it had nothing on this.
The cozy log structure was pushed back into the edge of the trees.
A wraparound porch with rocking chairs would be amazing in the summer.
A single light glowed in the front window.
Ash jogged onto the porch and bent down.
Seconds later, Christmas lights burst into brilliant color.
They wrapped around the posts, lined the eaves, and draped across the windows. Inside the house, a Christmas tree burned brightly.
“Oh, my God.” I yanked off my helmet and stumbled forward. “What is this place?”
“You like it?” Bishop caught me before I fell.
“Like it?” I covered my mouth with both hands. “I love it.”
I spun in a slow circle, taking in the pristine forest and the absolute silence broken only by the sound of our breathing. “How is this real?”
“It’s mine.” Bishop held out a hand. “Ours.”
He led the way up to the porch where Ash waited at the door.
The door swung inward, and I gasped again.
The inside was even more magical than the outside.
Garlands draped over a mantel, and a fire burst into life at the touch of a button.
It smelled like cinnamon and spruce, and from the looks of it, a romantic dinner sat ready on the table.
