by Frankie Love
Damn, she knows how to get off and it seems like I know how to give her what she wants.
“What is it?” I ask, looking into her green eyes.
“I feel so good with you. Do you think it’s going to last? This feeling?”
I run my thumb over her cheek. “What, you’re already waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
“Maybe I just feel slightly overwhelmed by what you just did to me. I didn’t expect it to feel that good.”
I chuckle. “And we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.” She moans in pleasure as I take her hand and guide her to my cock. “You like that?” I ask her.
She nods. “You’re so smooth yet so thick, so hard…”
“So hard for you,” I tell her, kissing her again as I begin to ease my cock into her sweet hole. “That’s where I belong.”
“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Please don’t stop.”
I fill her up and she moans as I go nice and deep. I already got her nice and lubed up, all good and juicy for my cock, and I’m glad. Because she’s so fucking tight, she needed to spread nice and good to be able to take what I have to offer.
I lace my fingers with hers, and our eyes lock. Earlier today I never would have imagined that tonight, I would be here, like this, with her. A woman who came to a strange place to be my wife.
Yet the word wife no longer sounds so damn terrifying. It sounds right.
We move together in a soft and gentle rhythm, her breath shallow, her eyes fluttering closed.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, looking into my eyes. “I’m really happy,” she whimpers back.
“Good,” I tell her. “So am I.” My cock aches as I take her, filling up her innocence and holding onto her tight.
“Oh, Hart,” she moans, deeply. She wraps her arms tight around my neck and gasps as she comes again, orgasming against me, her tight pussy tensing. I’m so fucking close too, and as her warmth wraps my cock, I can’t hold it off any longer. I come inside of her sweet hole, groaning as I do.
I want this moment to be suspended in time, something we can return to again and again. But everything is fleeting — the best we can do is memorize the moment and hold on tight.
I roll to my side, and she faces me. She runs her fingers through my beard, a sleepy smile on her face. “That was… incredible,” she sighs. “You are incredible.”
“Not just a grumpy mountain man?”
She smiles. “Maybe that too.”
I laugh, wrapping her up in my arms. “I promise to be nicer,” I tell her. “And maybe your sweetness can help me figure out how to be less of an ass to the customers.”
“Customers?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I took over my dad’s shop this year. Mistletoe Hardware.”
“What were you doing before?” She pulls up the sheet, covering us both.
“I was working in the woods, logging.”
“Dangerous work,” she says.
“And isolating too. I’ve never been a people person, so it suited me.”
“So I’m guessing the hardware store is stretching you in ways you didn’t anticipate?” she asks.
“Exactly. Sales are down — I know that I probably shouldn't admit that to my new wife. But it’s the truth. And I know it’s because I don’t have the same friendly attitude my dad has.”
“Well, luckily I am a people person,” she says. “Maybe I’ll be your golden ticket.”
“You know about hardware?”
She smiles. “I know enough.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of work did you do, out in Oregon?”
She runs her fingers across my chest. “Well, until my grandad passed away, I was his right-hand man.”
“Doing what?”
“He was a plumber.” She grins. “I know, you have a bride-to-be who can install a toilet. Sexy, right?”
I shake my head, running a hand over her breasts. “It’s fucking hot as hell.”
“Really?” She laughs. “I never thought of it as hot. Just handy.”
“And after he died… what did you do then?”
“It was only a few months until grandma died of a broken heart. I took care of her, and dealt with the realization that my grandparents, while sweethearts, were not very business savvy. I had no idea. Neither did my grandad. My grandma was in charge of the bookkeeping. Financially speaking, she kept how bad things were from Grandad and me. Trying to protect us. But if I had known I would have gotten another job, helped in different ways. But by the time I found out, it was too late. And when they were both gone, I lost the farm where I grew up. They were bankrupt.”
“Which is why you are here,” I say slowly.
“Exactly. Which is why I really want us to be honest with one another, Hartley. I don’t want secrets. I don’t want to be in the dark.”
“Well the hardware store isn’t close to bankruptcy, if that’s what has you worried. Hell, nothing like that.”
“Good,” she says softly. “But if things get worse, you can tell me, okay?”
“You really want to come to work with me?” I ask her.
She nods, rolling on top of me. Looking so damn cute straddling me like we’ve been lovers for years. I squeeze her ass and kiss her deeply.
“I want to go to work with you,” she says. “I want to know everything about you. My husband.”
“Tomorrow,” I promise. “We can go then. But now.” My cock twitches and she feels it growing hard against her belly. “I need you again, wifey. And I need you now.”
Chapter Eight
Hattie
The snowstorm has settled by morning, and thankfully Hartley’s truck is capable of navigating down the mountain.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say, taking in Snow Valley as we enter the idyllic small town. “No wonder your parents wanted to protect this place from a giant corporation.” Hartley drives through a coffee stand, and asks for my order. “A peppermint mocha, with an extra shot, please.”
When he pulls up to the window, however, he groans. “I thought Tammy worked Tuesdays.”
The barista frowns. “I can’t believe you really did it. Keri at the airport said she saw you last night but I didn’t believe it. I mean, it’s all so freaking ridiculous.”
“Can we not?” Hartley says, tensing. He places the orders, along with two cranberry muffins. The barista scowls at me and I look down at myself, trying to figure out what I did to turn her off so much.
“Please don’t, Jo-Anne,” Hartley says, stuffing a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “Play nice. Please.”
Jo-Anne smirks, handing us our breakfast. “What’s her name?”
Hartley sighs. “Hattie. Hattie Mistletoe.”
That upsets Jo-Anne even more. “Well, good luck Hattie. This man is good for a little fun, but he doesn’t tend to stick around.”
Hartley drives away and I bite my lip, wondering what I should say. Clearly we need to address whatever just happened back there.
Hartley, though, just turns up the radio. More Christmas songs, but the mood doesn’t feel festive. It feels tense.
He parks his truck on the street and turns off the ignition. Turning to me, he clears his throat. “That was Jo-Anne.”
“I gathered that much,” I say, wrapping my hands around the to-go cup. “And who is she to you?”
“A local girl.”
“And why does this local girl have such a problem with you… with me?”
“She and I… We went out once.”
“Once?” I lick my lips. “That didn’t seem like a one-date kind of attitude.”
“She wanted more. Won’t let me forget it.”
“It’s okay,” I say, unbuckling. “I don’t need to know your dating history. So long as you only have eyes for me now, I don’t need the details.”
Hartley lets out what sounds like a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
He gets out of the truck and walks around to my side to let me out. His
immense relief sounds warning bells in my ear. What did Jo-Anne mean when she said, this man doesn’t stick around?
Inside the hardware store I take the apron Hartley offers me and I walk with him as he shows me around. Organized rows and stocked back room. There’s a Christmas tree in the window, and a sleigh next to it with fake snow.
“Did you decorate?”
He chuckles. “Mom did that.”
“Makes more sense. You didn’t even have a tree at your house.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never gotten one before.” He turns on the register and then flips the sign on the front door to Open. “Would you like to get one tonight after work? We could stop at the tree lot.”
“You’d do that?”
He gives me a sexy grin. “Maybe after we trim the tree we could relax next to the fire.”
I smile, warming up at the thought of doing anything with him. “And when you say relax, you really mean—” But my naughty words are cut off as a couple enters the store, the man looking for lightbulbs.
Hartley flashes me a smile, lifting his eyebrows, as he walks away. The woman who just entered turns to me. “Is that Hartley Mistletoe smiling? Why, I never. Out of all the boys, he is the most cocky, and least friendly.” She clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “I like that change.”
I smile, not offering any details on why he is in a good mood, figuring everyone in town will realize soon enough who I am, and why I am working here.
But the woman can’t pry anymore because the store quickly fills with people needing rock salt and shovels for driveways, Christmas lights for their houses, and kids looking for sleds to take down the snow banks.
For the most part no one asks too many pointed questions, but it is obvious some people know what Joy Mistletoe has concocted, and it is apparent they are stopping by the hardware store on a reconnaissance mission. I do my best to answer their questions and smile, taking it all in stride. Every once in a while I see Hartley looking over at me with a small smile, like he can’t believe I am here.
It makes my whole heart fill with warm and fuzzies. Because this is what I was wanting — to feel like I might belong somewhere again.
When Hartley offers to go across the street to the cafe to grab us soup for lunch, I tell him I will be okay on my own. He chuckles, kissing my cheek. “Honestly, you are doing much better here than I ever have.”
With him gone, I busy myself wiping down the front counter and a display case of flashlights as a pair of women enter the store, eyeing me up and down. They look a few years older, maybe Hartley’s age, and they walk right up to me with crossed arms.
“So you’re Hartley’s latest conquest?” a dark-haired woman asks.
“Excuse me?” My smile tightens as I try to acclimate myself to her attitude.
“Oh, it’s just Hartley has dated every single woman in town once,” the blonde says. “Which means if you slept with him last night, there is no reason to believe you will be staying here for long.”
The dark-haired girl shrugs. “Who knows, he’ll probably keep you around until his mother’s plan works out and then he’ll toss you back to where you came from.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
The women cackle. “I’m Dylan, and this is Keri. And if you think Hartley is marriage material, think again.”
“You know… you just sound… a little bitter,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“Bitter?” Dylan scoffs. “No. We’re just trying to give you some friendly advice.”
“Exactly,” Keri adds emphatically. “We’re being nice.”
“This is you being nice?” I roll my eyes, walking back to the register. “If that’s the case, I’m seriously sorry to have to let you know you just sound jealous.”
My words send the chill I was hoping for. They turn on their heels toward the front door just as Hartley appears with a bag of food in hand. As the women pass him, they let him know exactly what they think of me.
“Your mail-order bride is a real piece of work,” Dylan says. “So good luck with that.”
They leave, the bells on the door jingling after them.
I bite back my emotions, feeling so many things all at once. Embarrassment, anger, fear.
And even though I want this to work… it’s impossible not to question whether Hartley does.
Chapter Nine
Hartley
“What in the hell was that about?” I ask, placing the food on the counter.
“It was about the fact you’ve gained quite the reputation,” Hattie says, shaking her head.
“Don’t listen to them. They’re just bitter.”
“That’s what I said,” she tells me.
“You said that?” I nod in surprise.
“Look, I wanted to defend you. You are my husband — at least you will be as soon as we get the pastor over. But I don’t want to spend my life convincing other people you are committed to me. They seem to think you aren’t marriage material… are you?”
I run a hand over my beard. “You can’t trust Dylan and Keri. They have reputations too, you know.”
“But I don’t care about their reputations, I care about yours. About ours. I don’t want to be made a fool.”
I open the bag of food, starving and pull out the soup as she keeps talking.
“I know I told you I don’t need details, but if you’re still wanting to live the single life, then tell me now. Don’t waste my time and break my heart.”
“And then where would you go?” I ask her, knowing her options.
But I immediately know it was the wrong thing to say.
Tears fill her bright green eyes, splashing down her cheeks. “You don’t really want me then, do you? You pity me.”
“I did not say that.” Groaning, I realize I pretty much did. “It is the truth, you don’t have anywhere to go. But lucky for us, you are already right where you belong.”
“I belong here, alongside a string of women you’ve been with, who you’ve let down? How can I trust I’m not the next in line?”
I step toward her, cupping her cute cheeks with my hands. “I never called those girls for a second date because I didn’t want one. What would you rather, that I had a bunch of long-term relationships, or that I was never interested enough to spend more time with them? I may not have been a virgin when we met, but my heart, it’s never belonged anyone else. Until now.”
I kneel before her, pulling out the diamond ring. “Marry me, Hattie. Be my Mrs. Mistletoe. My wife. Because hell, I’ve known you a day but I want to love you for a lifetime.”
Her eyes widen in absolute shock. “Are you sure?”
I nod, taking her hand. “I wish I could have married you on December first, made your little girl wishes come true, but Hattie, I will always remember that day as the best of my life. Because it was the day I met you.”
Tears fall down her cheeks as I slip the ring on her finger. “Oh Hartley, I do want to marry you.”
“I know I wasn’t marriage material before, but that’s only because I hadn’t met my wife.”
I stand, pulling her into a hug, kissing her perfect pink lips. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
She lets out a laugh mixed with a sigh mixed with joy. “You’re mine then, right? Mine alone?”
“Forever.”
“Then can we find this Pastor Monroe and seal the deal?”
“One step ahead of you, Cookie.” I tell her to put on her coat, and then I take her hand. I drag her down the street to the gazebo in the center of town where my parents are waiting, along with the pastor of the local chapel.
Mom and Dad are grinning ear to ear, and Hattie’s face is written in shock. The gazebo is lit with Christmas lights, there are trees decorated all around, and in the distance is the ice skating rink, filled with children laughing as they spin around.
“Are you ready to get married?” I ask her.
She nods, tears in her eyes. “Can I meet your parents first?”
With he
r hand in mine, I introduce het to Mom and Dad. “And this is Hattie. My bride.”
“Oh, Hattie,” Mom says, pulling her into a hug. “You have no idea how good it is to meet you.”
Hattie smiles back at my parents. “I feel like the luckiest girl.”
“Good,” my dad says. “Because Hartley may act like a bit of an ass, excuse my language, Pastor, but he is a softie. Always remembers to call his mom and makes it to Sunday dinner every week. He can’t be all bad if he does that.”
“Okay, enough with all that,” I say, chuckling.
“I don’t mind. I like your parents telling me all about you. After all, I hardly know you.”
Mom smiles at Hattie. “And I hardly know you. We’re gonna need to change that. I need your Christmas list, asap!”
“Mom, I thought we agreed to doing our own Christmases this year?”
Mom laughs. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I can’t get my new daughter-in-law just a little something.”
“I hear you have six new daughters-in-law,” Hattie says. “Have you met them all?”
“Not yet,” Mom says with a twinkle in her eye. “But come New Year’s Eve, you better be at my house — all of you boys and your girls, don’t forget.”
Pastor Monroe clears his throat and we turn to him. I take Hattie’s hands in mine. This may be her first introduction to my parents, but this moment isn’t about them. It’s about us.
“Hattie, Hartley,” he says. “We’ve come together today to join your lives together as one.”
Hattie squeezes my hands, I squeeze hers back. I am diving into unknown territory, head-first, but I’m not alone in it. I have her by my side.
And yes, it is scary — but it’s also really incredible.
The pastor reads through the ceremony, we exchange rings and vows. And when it is time to make my promise, I don’t hesitate. This girl is mine.
