Page 82 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

“No, smarty pants. The way you look in your gear.”

After dinner, we took our wine glasses and migrated to the couch, her legs across my lap, my hand resting on her ankle - it felt natural.

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Can I ask you something?” she said eventually.

“Anything.”

“What would you have done if I’d taken the job? If I’d decided to leave?”

“I would have let you go,” I said honestly. “I would have helped you pack, driven behind you to the first highway rest stop, wished you well, and pretended my heart wasn’t breaking.”

“Really?”

“Really. Because loving someone means wanting them to be happy, even if their happiness doesn’t include you.”

She was quiet for a long moment, processing this.

“I’m glad you didn’t have to do that.”

“Me too. More than you know.”

Outside, the sky had cleared completely, showing stars so bright they looked like diamonds scattered across black velvet. We moved to the window to get a better view, and I wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“Beautiful night,” I observed.

“Perfect night,” she corrected. “Clear sky, warm house, excellent company, and nowhere else I need to be.”

“Nowhere else you want to be?”

“Nowhere else I want to be,” she confirmed, leaning back against my chest. “This is exactly where I belong.”

I turned her in my arms, so she was facing me, her face turned up in the soft light from the streetlamp outside. She was beautiful.

“I love you, Cassie Grant,”

“I love you too, Levi Marshall,” she replied, her voice warm with certainty. “And I’m staying put.”

This time, when I kissed her, it was hot and heavy.

When we broke apart, she was smiling and biting her bottom lip.

“So, what happens now?”

“Now we build something together,” I said. “Until we can’t remember what life was before this.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good,” I said, pulling her closer. “Because I’m planning on keeping you for a very long time.”

She laughed. “I’m counting on it.”

Chapter 23

Christmas at the Cottage

Cassie

“That’s definitely crooked,” I announced from my perch on the stepladder, wrestling with a strand of Christmas lights that were determined to hang at a rebellious angle.