This year, New Year’s Eve was different.

Usually, Mackenzie closed the store early and spent the afternoon busy in her studio with music playing and a cup of hot cocoa at her side. It was a tradition of sorts, throwing the first pots of the year and planning her collections to come, before she wrapped up, stopped by a local party, and shared a celebration with her neighbors and headed home, greeting the new year in front of the fire with a solitary glass of wine.

This year, she was anything but alone.

“Touch gently . . .”

“Like this?”

“Yes, feel your way along. Softer, softer . . . Yes, Jake, that’s right.”

“I told you, I’ve got magic hands.”

Mackenzie laughed, and gently guided his touch on the clay. She was sitting behind him at the potter’s wheel, showing him firsthand how to throw his very first bowl.

Jake half-turned to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I can see why you like this,” he said. “I’m feeling all Ghost here.”

“That would make me Patrick Swayze,” Mackenzie giggled, her hands intertwined with his as the clay spun and shaped on the wheel. “And you’re Demi.”

She felt the rumble of Jake’s laughter against her chest, and then he was kissing his way up her arm with hot, molten kisses that made it hard for her to concentrate on shaping the clay. “It’ll fall,” she warned him breathlessly, as his lips reached her shoulder.

“There’s no danger of that,” Jake teased, pressing closer. She laughed, and then willingly surrendered, shutting off the wheel as Jake lifted her around to straddle his lap. He brushed hair back from her face, and she didn’t even care about the smears of clay from his dirty hands, not when his body was flush against her and he was smiling at her with those laughing blue eyes.

“You’ve got a little something . . .” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. She shivered as his lips trailed over her skin.

“So do you,” she whispered, tracing the trail of clay down over his biceps. She closed her eyes happily as his lips found hers for a slow, hot kiss. She was learning the shape of him by heart, the way she knew the curves of her clay, every ridge and hollow of his torso, every smooth expanse of muscle and knot of sinew. Still, she never tired of exploring, savoring the rise of his body and the tantalizing slide of his tongue against hers.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, and then again.

“That’ll be Eliza,” Mackenzie said, dragging her lips away.

“So?” Jake kept kissing her. She giggled.

“So, we’re late for the party. We’ve been hermits all week . . .”

He stole her words with another kiss, and Mackenzie sank into him, reminded of the reason why. They’d barely come up for air since Christmas, wrapped in their cocoon at her cottage, eating and sleeping and laughing and making up for that lost time. It was thrilling and delicious, but it still almost felt like a dream to Mackenzie to have everything she wanted right there in her arms.

Finally, Jake drew back. “One hour at the party, then I get you home,” he bargained, his hands still sliding over her body with a possessiveness that made her pulse skip.

“Done.” She detangled herself from him, and went to the sink in the corner to hastily wash away the scandalous fingerprints he’d left behind. When she was done, she turned to find him examining the sculptures in the corner.

“You changed this one,” he said, tracing the third one. She was surprised—and touched—that he’d noticed.

“I wanted to give the series a happy ending,” she said, assessing the way the figures bent towards each other now, love joined, instead of denied. “I sent some photos to Vivian in New York, and she really likes them. So, I guess the exhibition is going ahead.”

“You guess?” Jake echoed. He shook his head, clearly amused. “We’re going to have to work on your confidence.”

“I’m plenty confident!” she protested, laughing as he picked her up. “I’m the town charades champion. I make a killer spaghetti—”

“And you’re an amazing artist.”

“If you say so.” Mackenzie flushed. She knew she would have to get used to sharing her work eventually, but it still meant a lot that Jake was behind her 100%. He set her down again, and she reached to pass him his coat. There was a crinkle of papers in his pocket, and she paused.

“What’s this?”

Jake looked bashful. “Just some things from the realtor.”

Mackenzie paused. “The realtor . . . here?”

“Where else?” Jake looked blissfully confused. “I told you, I’m staying.”

She exhaled, that warmth spreading from her chest to every part of her. “I know. But I like to hear you say it.”

Jake smiled and tugged her closer. “I thought in the new year we could start looking for a place. For us. I know you love your cottage,” he added, looking apologetic, “but—”

“But it’s not big enough for the two of us,” Mackenzie finished for him. Jake had bashed his head on the low-slung doorways at least four times already, and her cluttered bathroom had barely enough space for his toothbrush, let alone any of his things. “Cooper’s place is larger,” she suggested.

“I know. But, I like the idea of getting something that’s just ours,” Jake said. “Somewhere to put down roots. I mean, if that’s OK with you,” he added, shooting her a cautious glance. “I don’t want to rush you.”

Mackenzie felt like her smile would light the room on fire. “That’s more than OK with me,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. “I can’t wait.”

---

She locked up, and they headed across the square to the pub, where the party was already in full swing, spilling laughter and music out into the night. Inside, she found all her friends and neighbors dancing and celebrating as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

“You’re just in time!” Eliza greeted them, her cheeks flushed, with a glass of champagne in her hand. “I would ask what kept you, but it’s written all over your face,” she added, reaching over to clean a stray smear of clay from Mackenzie’s nose.

Mackenzie laughed. “You’re just jealous,” she winked.

“Of your hot boyfriend? Yes, yes I am.” Eliza grinned. “At this rate, I’ll be making out with old Hank on the stroke of midnight.”

“I don’t know,” Mackenzie teased, “I think you could land Larry, if you tried.” She sent a wave to the sixty-year-old harbormaster across the room, who was wearing his trademark peaked cap and cable-knit sweater. He waved back at them, looking confused, and Eliza snatched her hand down.

“Shush!” she hushed, laughing. “Don’t even joke!” She pulled Mackenzie over to the bar, where Jake was already drinking with Riley, Grayson, and Cooper. Mackenzie sidled in next to him and claimed a glass drink—and a kiss.

“They live!” Poppy exclaimed, coming downstairs with Summer and Brooke. “I haven’t seen you two in forever.”

“We were talking about sending a search party,” Brooke agreed. “But nobody wanted to volunteer to interrupt you.”

“Probably for the best.” Jake draped an arm around Mackenzie’s shoulders. She flushed.

“Aww, leave them alone,” Riley spoke up. “Everyone gets a pass when it’s cold as balls outside.”

“Enough talk of balls,” Poppy said, laughing. “Does everyone have a drink? Good.” They all raised their glasses. “Here’s a toast, to the year ahead.”

“Full of new arrivals,” Cooper said, sharing a smile with her.

“And new adventures,” Riley agreed.

“And new beginnings,” Mackenzie echoed, squeezing Jake closer. The call went up, and then they hustled outside, everyone was counting down the final moments of the year.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Jake drew her a little way from the crowd and tipped her face up to his. “Are you ready?” he asked, gently tracing her cheek.

“Four.. three… two…”

Mackenzie knew he was talking about the new year and the fireworks to come, but to her, it meant so much more. The start of their life together, and the love she’d hoped would be hers for so long.

“I’m ready,” she vowed, and then he was kissing her: slow, and deep, and full of forever as the countdown blurred into the background and the stars burst overhead, and the year ticked over into something glorious.