“It might,” he grumbled. “Maybe you should show me what you think instead.”
“We have guests on the way,” she playfully reminded him.
When he groaned in protest, she kissed him again then took him by the hand and led him into the living room. Like the rest of their cozy home, this room was decked in full holiday style too.
Decorated greenery draped the fireplace mantel and window frames. The large pine Razor had chopped down from the wooded acreage behind the house a couple nights ago stood as the centerpiece of the room. Now, it was full of glittering ornaments, garlands, and tiny lights. Underneath the tree were beautifully wrapped gifts—handcrafted pottery Willow had made for everyone who was coming to celebrate with them tonight.
And outside a light snowfall had kicked up a couple hours ago, delicate flakes pattering against the window and swirling merrily in the cold of the North Maine Woods.
It was all like something out of a festive dream, all of it Willow’s doing.
She’d never had a proper Christmas, and Razor was glad he could be part of the magic he saw dancing in her eyes as she drank it in with him.
She turned to him, a watery smile in her eyes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
He nodded, his gaze trained only on her.
His woman.
His mate.
And, in six more months, the mother of his child.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” Razor gathered her into his arms, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
If he’d had his way he’d like to hold her like this all night, just feeling her breathing against him, her joy and contentment bringing him a peace he’d never dreamed could exist—at least not for someone like him.
The decision to start their life together in Parrish Falls had been an easy one, even before they’d spotted theFor Salesign in the front yard of a quaint gentleman’s farm less than a mile up the road from Knox and Leni’s place. Willow loved having horses, goats, and chickens to care for, and Razor loved that he was able to convert one of the heated barns out back into a dedicated pottery studio for her.
He supposed he might get the itch to return to action one day, but if Knox had been able to find his own rhythm living off the grid in the North Maine Woods, Razor probably could too.
Besides, come spring the two of them would be keeping busy installing a white picket fence around Razor and Willow’s front yard.
Razor smiled to himself and held her a little closer, both of them watching the twinkling lights on the tree and the snow falling outside while they waited for their friends and family to arrive.
Willow had told him that he’d saved her, not only physically but saved her from a life of hiding and running from her emotions. The truth was she had saved him. She had healed him far more than his blood had healed her that awful night in Montreal.
She had made him whole.
She had given him a place in her heart, somewhere he finally felt safe too.
She had given him the only home he would ever need.
Right here, with Willow beside him . . . forever.
