“Who knew black ice could sneak up on ya like that?”
“Uh…pretty much everyone.”
“Right.” I click my tongue to keep from rambling through an explanation. We don’t get a whole lot of snow in my hometown. The occasional storm will blow through, but nothing like what Pine Creek Falls gets up in the mountains.
“How about we get you into town?”
I let out a breath of relief. “That would be good.”
Holt opens my car door while I turn it off. “You got a suitcase in the trunk?”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty heavy.” Standing next to Holt while the snow falls feels a little too Hallmark-movie for me. He’s wearing a Carhartt and a cowboy hat, for Christ’s sake. I drop my gaze from his piercing blue eyes and move to the trunk.
Holt reaches in before I can and pulls my huge suitcase out as if it weighs nothing. It took all of my strength to get that thing in the back of my car. I was fucking proud of myself for doing it on my own, and this asshole just made me look like a wimp.
I follow behind him to the big truck on the side of the road. He opens the passenger door for me before storing my suitcase in the truck bed. There’s a big black cover over it, so at least I don’t have to worry about my stuff being exposed to the elements.
Getting in the warm cab is heaven. I shove my hands near the vents and vow that my first agenda item will be buying a nice pair of gloves.
When I accepted Mayor Dillion’s request to help rebrand Pine Creek Falls, I hadn’t planned on being here in person. Normally, I can do my job from home without any issues. This job was no exception, but for the past year or so, I’ve been feeling restless. My best friends have all paired up with their forever people while I’m sitting on the sidelines, watching them live out their happily ever afters.
I’ve been cheering them on from the very beginning. I’m ecstatic that they’re all happy, but seeing what they have is a tough reminder that I won’t ever have that.
I will never be the little wifey who stays home and takes care of her husband. I have way too many sharp edges to live that kind of life. Nor am I the kind of girl who dreams of having kids of my own. I love my little niece, but it’s always a big relief to give her back to her parents at the end of the day.
“Oh. My. God. Are you Virginia Miller?”
I spin around at the small squeal. “What the fuck?” Two young girls sit in the backseat, staring at me with wide blue eyes.
Before I can ask any questions, Holt gets in the truck. He looks at me in question and then back at the girls.
“Dad! That’s Virginia Miller!”
He frowns at me. “Who?”
“She’s a country singer”—I supply, then look back at the girls—“and my twin sister.”
“Whoaaaaa,” the girls say simultaneously.
“I’m Gia. Georgia, technically, but I like Gia better.”
“I’m Lauren or Lo Lo,” the girl on the right says. She’s got a cute little pink stocking cap over her head, and her blue eyes look identical to Holt’s. “And that’s my sister Leah. We call her Lee Lee most of the time. We’re not twins, but everyone says we could be. And that’s our dad, Holt.”
Leah is behind my seat, her toothy grin on full display. She’s got a purple stocking cap on that almost covers her eyes.
I meet the gaze of the man in question. “You’re a dad.” I glance at the girls and then back at Holt. “How old are you?”
Holt laughs. “Forty. You?”
“Thirty.”
“I’m six!” Leah pipes up from the back.
“And I’m seven,” Lauren adds.
It makes Holt and me laugh as we look at the grinninggirls. They’re adorable, and I can see Holt in both of them. Why does knowing he’s a dad make him even hotter? Shouldn’t it be the opposite?
I guess I’ve never had an issue with other people’s kids—unless they’re assholes. I just cringe at the idea of growing one in my body. It’s never appealed to me. But I can’t deny that when guys are in Dad-mode and they’re good at it? Definitely makes them hotter.
