“It’s not a dream, angel.” He kissed her back. “I want to take you home with me.”
She burst out laughing, pulled back, and smacked his arm. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
He wrapped his arms around her, and they tumbled off the sled, landing with him on top of her. He kissed her cheek and then her ear and then her neck. “I’m not trying to seduce you.”
She gasped. “Could have fooled me.”
He chuckled against her skin and felt her shiver beneath him. “I want to show you what I’ve built.” He kissed her cheek and then slowly kissed her lips. “I think you’ll like it.”
She hummed her ascent.
He popped up on his elbows and took in her heavily lidded expression. She was so adorable. “But first, I have to get us down the hill.”
She pulled him in for one more kiss. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
Feeling like he could fly them down the mountain, he helped her get on the sled again. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, pointing down the hill. Though he wasn’t really asking about the sled. He wanted to know if she was ready to see his life, to face the what-ifs that came from seeing his home. He hoped she pictured herself in it because he’d pictured her there countless times.
She snuggled into his chest. “I’m ready.”
He pushed off, and they raced down the hill and into the unknown.
CHAPTER17
Lauren slowly walked through Jacob’s cottage, taking in the details and beautiful craftsmanship even as she noted the sense of home that permeated the place.
He had few possessions and fewer knick-knacks. Those she saw were probably gifts from Charlotte or his mom. A local photographer did the pictures on the wall, though she wouldn’t know who. He or she was good, though, because the images were gorgeous.
With all that, it was the finish work that took center stage. Jacob was not just a woodworker; he was an artist.
He started the tour with the garage/workshop–which was absolutely incredible. He’d built onto the original structure in order to have enough space to make cabinets and furniture. The floor was stained concrete with visual texture. The walls were painted a creamy white and bare, save the shelves that held planks of every species of wood she could name and several she couldn't.
The space smelled like earth and sawdust with a lingering hint of a stain. “I open those doors when I paint or stain in here.” He pointed to the stunning barn doors made from reclaimed wood. “The vacuum system keeps the dust to a minimum.” He pointed above their heads to ductwork and then to hoses that dropped down near several workstations.
“Yeah, because there’s so much dust.” She ran a finger along a machine and lifted it, proving her point. This place was cleaner than her apartment. Her desk was another matter altogether. Not a post-it was out of place. Happy sigh.
“This way to the mudroom.” He opened the door to the house, and they stepped into a cute space with dark stained wood, slate floors, and gray walls. Jacob’s shoes lined up two-by-two.
“You still collect sweatshirts?” She ran her hand over the soft fabric.
He shrugged unapologetically. “They’re the perfect piece of clothing.”
“I always enjoyed wearing your hoodies.” She ducked her head at her confession. “Made me feel like I was all I wrapped up in you.” She could say a thing like that to him now, right? It wasn’t pushing too hard or too fast?
He didn’t wait a moment before he had her in his arms. “Like this?”
She leaned into his embrace. “This is better.”
He smiled down at her. Standing in her socks, she had to tip her chin up to look at him.
“You can wear my hoodies anytime.” He kissed her hair and then slid his hand down her arm and tugged her into the kitchen. “Come see what I did.”
She giggled at his excitement, like a kid who had made the perfect Christmas present and couldn’t wait to gift it. She stopped in the kitchen as she stared at her dream home. The simplicity of it was what made it beautiful. The unfinished oak cabinets and the matching table had a clean feeling. Above her head ran raw wood beams, and along the opposite wall were built-in floor-to-ceiling display shelves with a tasteful selection of white plates and cups. Copper pots hanging over the island and the darker wood flooring gave the place warmth that invited her to step right in.
“Cocoa?” Jacob asked as he filled a copper kettle and placed it on the stove.
Lauren nodded, not wanting to break the spell cast over her mind. She could see herself in this kitchen, sharing breakfast with Jacob and warming bottles. The pitter-patter of little feet beat in her ear.
All of this existed in this strange world where Christmas repeated itself over and over again. Would she, could she, wake up in a year and have a baby, and it’d still be Christmas day? How long would it last?
