She stared at the Christmas tree and hoped J.R. was right. The part of her that doubted, however, had a stronger hold on her than the part that believed.

“Nothing to say to that?”

“I’ll call him. I will,” she promised. “I just need a little more time.”

“The man is suffering, Jess. Like I suffered without Rabia. Put him out of his misery.”

“I’ll work on it, OK?”

“You do that. Look, I’ve gotta go. I just wanted to check in. Take care of yourself. And give Bear a hug for me.”

“He misses you.”

“I miss him, too.”

“You’re going to have to come back and visit us when you’re both up to it. Thanks for keeping in touch with Brad, by the way. It means so much to him.”

“He’s my brother. I may not remember him yet, but it didn’t take long to figure out that he’s a good man. Don’t worry. We aren’t going to lose touch. None of us. I’ll call again before Christmas.”

“Take care.”

She disconnected, then stared at the phone for a moment, the melancholy creeping in again as she thought about Ty being as miserable and alone for Christmas as she was.

But then Bear whined pitifully and snapped her out of it. She bundled up in her boots, down coat, a stocking cap, and gloves and took him outside into the snow.

JESS TOOK BEAR on their usual route down the blacktop toward the lake and into the woods, but she cut the walk short at the halfway point. She’d barely made it out the door when the promised wind had picked up and the temp had dropped. The snow drove against her with such force it peppered her bare cheeks, and walking against it, she had to keep her head down to keep it from stinging her eyes.

“Sorry, buddy, we’re heading back.”

The blowing snow and deep drifts didn’t faze the Lab, but he changed course when she did and, energized by his romp in the woods, loped ahead of her down the road.

Normally, she would have kept him closer, but there was no traffic tonight on either the blacktop or the highway where the two roads intersected in a T. Anyone with half a brain would be tucked up tight at home, warm by the fire, waiting for morning, when they’d start the task of digging out.

In fact, the last time she’d seen the snow plow go by had been around four, and the local news reported that road crews would be called in early because of the severe weather conditions.

So when she saw headlights cutting through the snow and bearing east on the highway, heading toward the store, she not only marveled at the stupidity of the driver but also figured she’d soon be dealing with a stranded motorist. It wouldn’t be the first time. Some people had more balls than brains, her dad used to say.

Oh, well, she’d take them into the store and call Shelley, and then Darrin would come after them on a snowmobile and put them up for the night at the lodge.

She was still half a block away from the store when, sure enough, the headlights veered off the road, and the vehicle pulled into the parking lot and stopped under the light of the fuel pumps.

Bear, who never knew a stranger, trotted right up to what Jess could see now was an SUV.

“You’re a heck of a watchdog,” she grumbled, and tucked her chin deeper into her scarf to ward off the icy cold.

The driver’s-side door opened, and a man stepped out. She wasn’t close enough to make out his features, even under the security light, but something about him seemed familiar. Apparently, Bear thought so, too. The dog started jumping in happy circles and crying as if he’d found a long-lost friend.

The man went down on one knee to ruffle the dog’s coat and give him a hug. Bear jumped on him as if he was fresh meat, licking his face, nudging his hands, practically tackling him.

The man laughed then… and she stopped mid-stride, twenty yards away.

She knew that laugh.

She loved that laugh.

This was no stranger. Ty knelt in the snow, watching her, snowflakes dusting his hair, his cheeks fiery red from the cold.

She started running.

She didn’t care that snow stung her face, or that the happy tears running down her frozen cheeks blurred her vision, or that her lungs burned like fire. She needed to be in his arms, kissing him.

He was still on his knees when she reached him, and she didn’t stop. She flew at him and tumbled them sideways into six inches of snow.

His arms wrapped tightly around her, and they rolled until she ended up on top of him, smiling down as snow fell around them and crept inside her coat collar.

“You’re here,” she whispered, breathless and deliriously hopeful and happy. Still disbelieving, she framed his cheeks in her gloved palms.

“I’m here,” he said softly, searching her face, making it infinitely clear that he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him.

“You know? About J.R.?”

“And Rabia? Yes. Mike told me.”

Damn, she was going to cry. “You don’t hate me?”

His eyes softened. “I could never hate you.”

She did cry, then. “But can you still love me?”

He pulled her head down to his and kissed her. “If you’d be kind enough to get me inside, out of the frozen tundra, I’ll show you how much.”

TY GRABBED HER hand, and they scrambled to their feet. The bell he’d missed so much dinged wildly as he jerked open the door, made sure Bear managed to squeeze inside, then shoved it closed behind them.

“I need your mouth.” He pushed her up against the door and slammed his mouth over hers. “I need to be inside you.”

He felt primitive, feral, as, with a low groan, he broke the kiss and led her up the stairs. They frantically stripped off their clothes, leaving a trail from the doorway to the bedroom. He was hopping on one foot, cursing, and trying to get his boot off, when he looked up and saw her. On her knees. In the middle of the bed. Naked. Arms outstretched.

Screw the boot. He flew to the bed, dragged her against him, and tossed her onto her back.

Then he found the heart of her, the heat of her, and buried himself deep inside.

He’d missed her for too long. Had been certain he would live his life without her… for too long.

No more. He was here now. She was his now. Her sweet, responsive breasts. Her soft, giving body. Her wild, hungry mouth.

Her pure, giving heart.

Finesse could come later. The way she moved against him told him she didn’t want finesse right now. Told him it was the same for her as it was for him.

This union was about lonely nights and hopeless longing and a crippling fear that they’d never be together this way again. This was about desperation and regret, about promises that would never again be broken.

This was about staking claims and coming home to a woman he was never going to leave again.

Epilogue