Sugar Mountain Christmas Bride (The Mountain Men of Linewsworth)

by Frankie Love

  “God, I like kissing you,” he says.

  It’s simple and so true and it makes us laugh — the insanity of to all. Us. This. Now.

  My phone begins to buzz, and my eyes widen when I see I’ve missed six calls and dozens of texts. I haven’t looked at my phone in hours.

  “Shoot,” I say, scrolling through them. “The bachelorette party is starting in like an hour. I totally went MIA on everyone. Sophia is freaking out apparently.”

  Brooks nods. “You’re a good friend.”

  I roll my eyes. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  We laugh again, and there is something in the words we say that is deeper than talking. It’s like he gets me.

  And I get him.

  “Maybe tomorrow, we can —”

  “It’s the rehearsal dinner. The whole thing is going to be…”

  “Exciting? Thrilling? Your best friend’s dream come true?”

  “Right.” I smile tightly. “The groom’s family is coming over early tomorrow to get all the decorations from my house, and then we’re headed to the lodge to set up the wedding. It’s going to be a busy forty-eight hours.”

  “Of course,” he says. “If you need a hand, call me. I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks,” I say, meaning it. “I might just take you up on that. You know how we were talking about people being in our corner?”

  He nods, his hand on the small of my back. “What about it?”

  I drop my chin, knowing what I’m going say is the most vulnerable version of me. “Well, I want someone in mine.”

  Brooks lifts my chin, his hands calloused and capable. “I want someone in mine, too.”

  “Be my date to the wedding,” I say. Brooks frowns. Surprised. “Or not, I add. I mean — no pressure.”

  “That’s not why I’m frowning.”

  “Why then?” I ask, my belly filled with butterflies.

  “Because I was thinking when we go to a wedding together, it ought to be ours.”

  My eyes widen, but the words don’t shock me. “Brooks,” I say, blinking to avoid crying I front of this man I hardly know. This man I want to know everything about.

  “No pressure,” he says with a chuckle. “Of course, I’ll be your date. To the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding.”

  I nod as he opens my car door. “Are we really happening? Like is this…. a thing?”

  “No,” he says firmly. “That’s not what this is called.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Noelle, this isn’t any old thing. This is the thing.”

  I bite my lip, shaking my head. “Yesterday you told me your life was in Seattle.”

  “Maybe I was wrong. Scout loves it here. This is where her family is. And in the end, isn’t that all we have? And I love it here. Turns out, I love … everything about this place. Everything.”

  His words catch me off guard … even though they are the exact ones I want to hear. “You’re insane.

  “I think you’re right about that.” He grins, and it reaches his eyes. So bright and beautiful, seeing straight to my heart. “Be safe tonight, and if you need a ride, call me. Please.”

  “I promise,” I tell him, hating that we’re saying goodbye. But my phone starts pinging again, and I know I’m pushing my luck.

  “Soon,” he tells me. “I’ll see you soon.

  The bar is packed — everyone is apparently home for the holidays and avoiding their families. Tillie, Kensie and I — her Linesworth crew — are surrounded by a pack of Sophia’s sorority sisters and I’m only on a first name basis with them, we don’t have anything in common except Sophia.

  When Sophia left for college, I stayed here and went to a culinary school a few towns away, working my way through school. Sophia on the other hand, moved to Seattle the first chance she got, and every time I see her, she has a new promotion and a fancier pair of heels. Her college friends seemed to have followed suit. Me? I’m a small-town girl, through and through. I like living somewhere where everyone knows my name. Where the owners of the bakery where I work have taken me under their wing. I don’t have any family, but I do have Linesworth.

  Tillie carries a tray of shots to table with a massive grin, and the other bridesmaids whoop and holler in excitement.

  “What are you smiling about, Tillie?” I ask, adjusting my black mini dress as I teeter on a stool. I’m trying to be present, engaged, but my mind is on Brooks and Scout. I love Sophia, but I the only place I feel like I belong, is with the two of them.

  “Oh, I’m just excited to see Sophia drink this Buttery Nipple.” She hands one to Sophia, who is decked out in a little white veil and a sash that reads BRIDE TO BE.

  “I don’t do shots,” she groans.

  “Until now!” Kensie adds with a laugh. “Do it, do it, do it!”

  We all crack up, taking our own shots from the tray and pour them back. “Oh god, sugar rush,” I say with a snort. “Though, that’s not half bad.”

  “Okay, I’m getting the next round,” Kensie says, standing. Sophia asks for champagne but Kensie waves her off. “Nope, I’m getting us Snowshoe Shots.”

  “This was a bad idea. I don’t do well with hard alcohol,” Sophia moans until the next round of shots arrives. Then she takes them like nobody’s business. After five, I cut her off. “Slow down, sweetheart. Don’t want you totally wrecked for tomorrow.”

  She smiles wryly, then slurring she says, “Not sure I care.”

  Her words bother me, but she is in no place to talk, and besides, she is already finding her way to the dance floor. The group of us follows her, laughing until she starts dancing with some guy none of us know.

  “Should she be…” I say to Kensie.

  Kensie shrugs. “It’s her night, isn’t it? This is better than strippers.”

  “Yeah,” Tillie says. “But you can’t kiss strippers — and, um…” We turn toward Sophia and the stranger. “She is.”

  They’re kissing and groping and about twelve seconds away from a dance floor dry hump nobody wants to see.

  “Crap.” I move toward my oldest friend. “Sophia,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, not wanting her to regret anything tomorrow. “Maybe we can go get some fresh air?”

  “I don’t want fresh air,” she hisses. “I want this, right here.” She turns back to the man who is twice her age and not exactly a hunk of burning love. Maybe shots were a terrible idea. No, I take that back. Since Sophia is back to kissing this guy, I am certain it was a bad idea. Nothing good can come from a night like this.

  “James isn’t going to—”

  Sophia pulls away from the guy, wobbling in her stilettos. “Don’t tell me about James,” she warbles. “He doesn’t care what I do, or who I do. He doesn’t even love me, Noelle.”

  “That isn’t true,” I say, leading her outside, not letting go of her wrist.

  “Yes, it is,” she whines. “You don’t know what he’s really like.” She crumbles against the brick wall of the building. “What I’m really like.”

  I set my hands on her shoulders, needing her to focus. “That isn’t true. I know you, Soph. I know you love James.”

  She shakes her head. “No,” she slurs. “I love that man in there. He was a good kisser.”

  “Let’s go home. Take a shower, get some rest.”

  She scowls. “No, I want to get drunk.”

  “Mission accomplished,” I say, my humor long gone.

  “Don’t be like that, Noelle.”

  “Like what?”

  “A drag.”

  I’m in a tiny black dress in the freezing cold with a friend whose words feel like a slap across my cheek. “Don’t, Sophia.”

  “What?” she asks, leveling herself on her heels. “Be honest?”

  “You can be honest, but don’t be cruel.”

  Tears fill her eyes. “You’re too good for me, Noelle. Always have been.”

  The door to the bar opens and the man from the dance floor comes out. “There you a
re,” he says, taking her hand. “Wondered where you went off to.”

  She flashes me a smile. “See? You are way better than me. Always will be too.”

  The guy leads her inside and I’m left in the cold.

  It’s snowing and freezing, and I feel really alone. I don’t want to go back to the party, but I don’t want to go home by myself either.

  Instead, I pull out my phone. Brooks said to call if I need a ride, and right now that is exactly what I need.

  But not just a ride.

  I need Brooks to help get me in bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brooks

  As I tuck Scout into bed, she asks for another bedtime story. “Okay, but only one more. I already read you three.”

  “I want a fairy tale, Papa,” she says, her voice soft and precious. “A story with a princess. One who looks like Noelle.”

  I grab one from her shelf. “This princess has black hair and red lips and lives with seven dwarves, will she do?”

  “It’s perfect,” Scout says snuggling into her blankets as I read her the fairytale. By the time I finish, she is yawning.

  “Time to sleep, sweetie,” I tell her, kissing her cheeks. “I love you.”

  “Can Noelle come over for Christmas morning?”

  “You’d like that?”

  She smiles, curled up in her blankets. “I’d love that.”

  I turn off the lights, leaving her to sleep, knowing I’d love that too.

  “She go down okay?” Mom asks as I enter the kitchen. She’s washing dishes from dinner.

  “Oh, she’s great. Already asleep I bet.”

  “And what about you, Brooks?” She sets down the sponge and dries her hands. “Are you great?”

  “Got a lot on my mind.” I open the fridge, not hungry, but antsy.

  “You should go out tonight,” she suggests. “Your dad is watching the news, I’ll be wrapping some gifts, go enjoy yourself and don’t come home until morning.”

  “What would I do?” I shake my head. “You’ve got whiskey here and plenty of desserts.”

  “True, but is that what you really want?”

  I chuckle. “God, Mom, you’re really pushing me to get out of the house, aren’t you?”

  “I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

  “I’ll think about it, thanks for the offer.”

  I grab a cookie that Noelle left us, and head to the living room, taking a seat opposite my dad. “What’s all this?” I ask, pointing to the pile of printouts from the computer. I pick up the stack and thumb through it. It’s listings for houses in Linesworth.

  “Just saw a few things I thought might interest you.”

  “You think I should move here too?”

  “You could make a pretty penny off your place in Seattle. Buy a home outright here. I’m not getting any younger, and Scout keeps me busy. It’s good for an old man.”

  I look over the houses, some are just gorgeous — gingerbread trim and picket fences — and the prices are unbelievable. Your money can go a lot further out here than in the city.

  “You’re the one who left Scout and me, not the other way around,” I say. “You shouldn’t have moved if you felt this way.”

  “Your mother wanted to retire here, was her dream all her life. I’m a smart enough man to know a happy wife, a happy life.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “What about you, son. Ever consider getting married?”

  I lift my eyebrows. “God, you too?”

  He laughs. “Okay, your mother and me, we’ve been talking. Just that sweet girl looks like she wants a family.”

  Defensive, I say, “She doesn’t need just any family. Hell, most people probably wouldn’t realize what a gift she is. Can’t think of anyone who deserves her.”

  Dad goes quiet, but his silence only reinforces my outburst.

  Finally, he speaks, “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you deserve her.”

  “We met a day ago.” I shake my head. “What kind of water is in this town’s pipes?”

  “Life has a funny way of surprising us all.” Dad smiles, leaning back in his recliner. “Maybe your Mom and I moved here at just the right moment. Maybe we’re here so you could find Noelle.”

  “Dad—”

  He cuts me off. “There are worse things in life than falling in love unexpectedly.”

  My phone buzzes and I pull it from my pocket. Noelle’s number pops up.

  Noelle: Can you come get me? I need a ride home.

  Me: Of course. Where are you?

  She gives me the address and I’m already reaching for my coat.

  “Where you headed?” Dad asks.

  “I’m taking your advice,” I tell him. “I need to get the girl.”

  We’re walking to her apartment and I’m trying to understand just went wrong.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Sophia and I had a fight and--”

  “And what? What did she do to you?”

  Noelle groans. “She’s drunk and Kensie and Tillie can deal with getting her home. I’m tired of taking care of her.” She jams her key in the lock and pushes open her door. The fresh smell of her pine tree reaches us, but even that doesn’t seem to relax her.

  “Did she hurt you somehow?”

  “Not me, I mean, she said some rude things, but it’s James she really hurt.”

  I nod, understanding. Must have been some bachelorette antics that got too out of control. “Do you need to call him? Anyone?”

  She shakes her head, shrugging off her coat. Her dress is so fucking sexy I have to hold back the catcall on the tip of my tongue.

  “I’m not calling anyone. I’ve spent way too many hours planning their wedding and it’s not my job to make sure they actually want to go through with it.”

  I frown, stepping toward her. “I’m sorry, sounds like a really shitty night.”

  “Was it wrong of me to call you? I could have gotten a cab. But …”

  “But what?” I ask, resting my hand on her waist.

  “I wanted you to come to get me.” She licks her lips. “I wanted you to stay with me.”

  “Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  I kiss her, hard, needing to hear the sound of her whimper, needing to feel her skin against mine. I pull her dress up, squeezing her ass, our lips parting, our tongues colliding.

  God, she feels good in my hands. “I want to make your Christmas wishes comes true, Noelle,” I tell her.

  “You already have.”

  We undress quickly, and I reach behind her, unclasping her bra, her round tits spilling out. They are so perky and full, so fucking cute, just like her. My cock pulls in my pants, and she undoes my buckle, setting my raging hard-on free.

  “You’re so big,” she says, running her hand over my length, stroking me until my throbbing cock is nothing but a thick, hard rod.

  “And you’re so wet,” I say, running a hand between her thighs, her creamy slit so ready to be licked. “I love touching your pussy.”

  She drops her head back, as I lift one of her legs, slipping a finger into her tight hole. “Oh, Brooks,” she whimpers and I know she loves it. Needs it. Craves it as badly as I crave her.

  We move to the floor, lying on the carpet in front of the Christmas tree. “It’s not decorated,” I say. “But I think we can light this room up. What do you think?”

  She laughs as I spread her knees, licking her tightness, my tongue flicking her round little clit. Her need obvious, her words so damn clear. “Please, I need you in me,” she pleads. “Don’t tease me, just make me come.”

  “Demanding. I like it,” I say with a grin, leaning over her as she continues to stroke my desperate cock. God how I want to get off inside her warm, tight cunt.

  I move against her, her body opening as I begin to fill her up. She’s so tight, so pure and sweet, and all I want is to make her feel good. Like all her dreams could come true.

  “God,” I tell her. “I fucking lov
e you.”

  Her eyes widen as I move deeply against her, our fingers lacing and our eyes meeting. Our hearts beating on a constant, steady rhythm and I don't regret what I said. Not for a single second.

  “You what?” she asks, gathering her thoughts as I take her breath away.

  “Love you.” I kiss her again. Her lips as sweet as her pussy, her legs wrapping around me as we roll over, trading places, her riding me as I look up into her eyes.

  “Don’t play with me,” she says her hands on my chest. “I can’t take that.”

  “I’m not,” I say, running my hands over her soft skin. “Love at first sight is real, Noelle. At least it is when it comes to me and you.”

  She blinks quickly as I thrust inside her, her hips stilling as she absorbs my words.

  “Is the timing wrong?” I ask. “Should I have waited until after—”

  She presses her hand over my mouth. “No. It’s perfect. It’s… everything.”

  I pull her to me, kissing her again, sitting up so she is in my lap — our bodies close together, our hearts beating as one. “I love you too, Brooks. And I don’t care if that sounds crazy.”

  “We can be crazy together.”

  She laughs, eyes glassy with love, and I pull her deeper to me, my cock buried inside of her, both of us exactly where we belong.

  Chapter Twelve

  Noelle

  We make love in the bedroom, the shower, and in the kitchen when we get our midnight snack of milk and cookies. I know I’ve made Brooks’ naughty list, but when I drop to my knees and take his thickness into my mouth, I think maybe I’ll earn my way onto his nice list too.

  I have rug burn on my knees and I don’t care. Not even a little. I love Brooks and he loves me and while there is so much to learn about one another, there is plenty of time for that. We have our entire lives.

  He cradles me in his arms, pulling a throw blanket over us both, and we fall asleep under the Christmas tree.

  “Don’t you need to get home to Scout?” I ask as he wraps his arms around me.

  “No, my parents knew I’d be with you tonight.”