Like there is a magnetic force pulling me in, I lean close and peck her lips.
“An outsider, huh?” she says. “You just kissed me, and earlier you called me your girl. That doesn’t feel like an outsider.”
“Did I say that?”
“You did.”
“So maybe not exactly an outsider,” I say.
Stella keeps her feet moving. She keeps her small gliding steps going, and we make it halfway around this pond, skating side by side, getting passed by old and young alike. But I don’t care. I only see Stella.
“What did you mean by that, Roman?” she says after several glides of silence. “My girl?”
I clear my throat, my pulse sending thrums to every artery in my body. “I guess it felt right.”
She glances back down at her feet, but returns her gaze to my face, never loosening her death grip on my arm. “What does that mean?”
I have been living with this woman for weeks. I have slept in her bed, my arms around her for days. Why would I make something up that’s so far from the truth?
“Do me a favor,” I say. “I’m not avoiding the question. Just do me this favor. Look around. The trees. The lights. The lodge. We are in a Christmas wonderland. You need to see it.”
She swallows and takes her gaze from mine. Her steps are short and rhythmic, her hand around my arm tightens, but she’s looking. Her cheeks have grown more pink in the cold and her green eyes, unmasked by glasses, are bright as she peers around. “It’s beautiful,” she says, still looking.
“So are you. My life felt pretty dim before you came. You are infuriatingly humble. You’re stubborn and kind. You force me into social situations I’d never otherwise get involved with. And whenever I touch you, I feel like I’m coming home.” I clear my throat, and Stella’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Like I said before, I like you, Stella. And more than a little. I know it hasn’t been that long, but wearemarried.”
Her gliding stops and she studies my face.
“So maybe I could call youmy girl.”
“Yeah, maybe you could,” she says, looking at me now.
Her hold on me loosens and I skate out of her grasp, standing right in front of her. “What if we gave this marriage a shot?”
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t look away. Her eyes search mine, and I’m almost ready to kiss her, when her feet are moving. Racing, but not going anywhere. I reach out, I lunge, but Stella’s even good at falling. Before I can completely wrap one arm around her—smack, she’s on the ground.
Forty-Two
“I don’t needyou to carry me. I’m fine,” I say. I made it to the car just fine. I was fine at the local In-N-Out, and I rode back to the cabin just fine.
But now, Roman is blocking my exit from this car, insisting he manhandle me.
“Your butt is bruised. One hundred percent. I should have caught you on the ice. I should have forced you to let me carry you off?—”
“Stop,” I groan, though I am far from upset. It really did take all of my strength tonotlet Roman carry me off that ice. I didn’t need even more eyes on me. But here, in the woods, in front of our house, we are completely alone. Just us and the skunks. “Fine, pick me up.” I hold up my arms like a toddler and waggle my fingers at him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Hurry it up, Mister.”
Happy as a clam, that man scoops me from my seat. I don’t hate it. Roman is strong and able and holding me close.Plus, he smells like Christmas. Which I never realized until this minute was such a turn on. But it is.
“I mean, I never got to carry you over the threshold. So, this is a good excuse. Don’t you think?”
“You were far too busy figuring out how to keep away from me to carry me anywhere.”
“Hey,” he says, but his tone is light. “I was trying to be a gentleman.” Crouching just a bit at the house, he says, “Can you unlock the door? My hands are full.”
“I don’t have a key on me.” I lift my brows, enjoying watching him work this one out.
