PAPER STARS: An Ordinary Magic Story(23)

He smiled, and drew me into him, stepped into me, pulling our bodies together as if we were two parts of one whole, complete on our own, but so much more together.

His thumb brushed my lower lip, his eyes focused on my mouth as he bent, just slightly, and lowered his head.

I stretched up, just slightly, our breaths mingling, our lips finally touching, sliding into that soft rhythm of give and take, of taste and sensation and joy, and promise, and yes, love.

I savored him, the quiet catch of his breath, the shifting of his wide shoulders as he erased every millimeter of distance between us that he could.

Nothing had changed with those three little words.

Everything had changed with those three little words.

I was dizzy with bliss.

When we finally pulled apart, it was only an inch, as if neither of us could stand the thought of letting the other go.

We stood there, holding each other beneath the paper stars, as the light of the tree twinkled with memories and promises.

And just beyond the window, it started to snow.

Jean.

I groaned, and he chuckled. “It is kind of romantic,” he said.

“Say it again,” I whispered.

“It’s kind of romantic?”

“The other thing.”

“I love you.”

I sighed. “I love you too.”

I slipped my fingers between his and stared out the big window at the softly falling flakes and the lake beyond.

“Think it will stop snowing by morning?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ll be snowed in. Together.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, an immense relaxation settling in me. As if I’d been holding the weight of something, waiting on tip-toe, stretched too thin, hoping for more than just those three words. Hoping for him.

Which I supposed was true. I’d been wishing for him every Christmas since I was a child.

And he had, no, we had, finally come true.

“How about we enjoy tonight, together, alone, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow?” He pressed a kiss into my hair.

“That sounds perfect,” I said.

We kissed again, and then made our way to the bedroom, slowly shedding our clothes.

“Merry Christmas, Ryder Bailey,” I whispered against his lips as he pulled us both down onto his huge, soft bed, while the snow gently tapped the windows, and the dragon and dog curled up in front of the fire.

“Merry Christmas, Delaney Reed.”





Acknowledgments


Big, big thank you goes out to Dejsha Knight and Sharon Thompson, two terrific beta readers who helped me make this story shine.

I’d also like to give a big thank you to the Deadline Dames and my fellow indie and hybrid writers who offered suggestions and plenty of encouragement along the way.

To my sisters and brothers and all my family: you are the heart of my holidays. Thank you for the adventures and loving memories. Let’s make many more.

More gratitude goes to my husband Russ, and sons Kameron and Konner. You are the biggest joy in my life. Thank you for letting me be a part of your world. I love you. And hey, thanks for all your help with my broken ankle situation. This story wouldn’t have gotten finished without your assistance with…well, pretty much everything.

Lastly, but never the least, I want to thank you, dear reader, for giving this story a try. I hope you’ll come back soon to catch up with the creatures and gods and people who live in Oregon’s quirkiest little beach town.