“Not long ago, I would’ve signed that contract for the California job without hesitation.”
“And now?”
“There are different kinds of success. Different ways to measure a life well-lived.”
Hope flickered across his handsome face.
“The night we were stranded in the cabin, you told me about the orc kingdom. About community and belonging. I didn’t fully understand then.” I looked down at the snow globe, watching the last snowflakes land on the forest floor. “This song asks if I’ll be home for Christmas. The truth is, I’ve never had a home. Only places where I could rest my head at night. But here feels like where I’m supposed to be. With these people. In this town. And with you.”
I sucked in a breath and released it. “I love you. I think I have since that day you carried me through the snow. Maybe even before that, when you looked at me across the saloon and saw past all my defenses to the lonely woman underneath.”
His hand tightened around mine.
“The California job is everything I thought I wanted, but you and Lonesome Creek are everything I need. What I choose. Where I want to spend the rest of my life.”
“You’ll stay?” The question held so much vulnerability it made my heart ache.
“I want to be with you for always.” I lifted our joined hands and kissed his knuckles, looking up at him. “Whatever that means and whatever comes next, I want to face it with you by my side.”
One moment Becken sat across from me; the next he stood beside my chair, lifting me, gathering me into his arms. His mouth found mine in a kiss that tasted of promise and relief and a joy so pure it stole my breath.
When we broke apart, his eyes shone with happiness. “I love you, Carla Smith. You brought me back to life.” He lowered me to my feet, and his hands cupped my cheeks. “We’ll build something new together.”
This wasn’t about forgetting what came before, but about choosing what came next.
I leaned into his embrace, and it felt right. “So what happens now?”
“Now we celebrate Christmas.” He smiled. “And we tell everyone at the community meal that you’re staying.”
“They’ll be surprised.”
“I doubt it.” He laughed, the sound tickling down my spine. “They’ll assume my considerable charm won you over.”
I nudged his belly. “You.”
“It’ll always be me for you, love, and you for me.” He curled forward, kissing my brow. Lifting my hand, he kissed my mating mark. “The fates recognized what our hearts already knew, that we belong together.”
“We do.” I wound my arms around him, still amazed that this intimidating male was mine. That I was his. “I think I would’ve chosen you even without the marks.”
“I know I would’ve chosen you. Marks or no marks, you’re the only one I want, for however long we have.”
We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the quiet joy of just being together. Christmas Day stretched ahead of us, and I couldn’t wait to share it with Becken.
As he stacked the dishes to take to the saloon, I carefully wrapped the snow globe in tissue paper and placed it back in its box to keep it safe. For every Christmas from now on, I’d bring it out and wind the key, humming along with the music that reminded me of my mother’s love and what I’d found in Lonesome Creek.
Outside, families strolled along the boardwalk, calling out greetings. Tourists wandered from shop to shop, enjoying the Western orc Christmas experience. The scent of pine and cinnamon and wood smoke filled the air.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, taking in the postcard-perfect scene.
“It’s home,” Becken said, his arm secure around my waist.
The word no longer felt foreign or unattainable. It was here, in this small town with its orc cowboys and Christmas traditions, its makeshift families and mating magic.
We walked toward the saloon. A few of his cousins called out Christmas greetings, and each time Becken said, “She’s staying on permanently as our operations manager.”
The joy in his voice matched the pride in his eyes, and my heart swelled. This wasn’t only his happiness with my decision, it was genuine pleasure in my professional recognition. He wanted me to succeed, to thrive, and to build something meaningful here.
The Red Fang Saloon glowed with light when we arrived, already crowded with familiar faces. Ostor and Rosey sat near the fireplace built along one wall, his arm draped around her shoulders. Hail and Allie shared a table with Sel, Max, and Holly, who waved us over as soon as we entered. Tark and Gracie huddled near the bar, deep in conversation with Dungar.
