Chloe

I had worried I was too worked up to fall asleep after picking out the tree, and had resigned myself to lying quietly to appease Sam. I was out shortly after hitting the pillow, however, and my nap had been deep and restorative. I thought that had something to do with being in Sam’s bed. It was big and comfortable and smelled like him, and like the man himself, it made me feel safe and cared for.

As we walked up to the main lodge, I couldn’t help wondering what the sleeping arrangements would be when we returned later that night. I would offer to take the couch, of course, but something told me Sam wouldn’t accept that. Would he be willing to share his big bed?

An image of snuggling up with Sam under the covers made heat rush to my cheeks and those tingles I had been feeling ramped up in intensity. I could picture that big, warm body wrapped around mine all too easily. How wonderful would it be to feel his calloused hands stroking my skin? Or to drape myself over his broad chest and feel the steady beat of his heart?

I shook my head, trying to dispel thoughts like that. They weren’t helpful, especially since we were going to have dinner with his family. I had to get my errant thoughts away from snuggling up to the sexy bear of a man beside me and back on those appropriate for a holiday gathering of his family and friends. They had welcomed me with open arms and hearts, and I didn’t want to do anything to change that, or worse, embarrass Sam. He was too important to me, and it appeared that, over the years, his big heart had grown right along with the rest of him.

I had been floored when he had expressed concern on the drive in that returning to the lodge would dredge up unpleasant memories. Sadly, my childhood was a never-ending stream of unpleasant memories. My brief time here wasn’t one of them, though. On the contrary, it was one of the few bright spots, when I actually felt as if, given the chance, I might have belonged.

I had never imagined he might think I blamed him or his family for what had happened. I hadn’t. They had tried to help, and that was more than most had done. It wasn’t their fault my father was a drunk, abusive asshole. At some point before I left, I would let them know that. A festive clan gathering on Christmas Eve wasn’t the appropriate time or place to do so.

Dinner was a loud, raucous affair. Sam’s parents were there, as were both sets of his grandparents and numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. Those in attendance ranged in age from a few months old to my age and well beyond.

I wasn’t the focus of attention as I had been earlier. In fact, several of the young men dropped their eyes when they spoke to me. I figured Sam might have had something to do with that.

After initial greetings and introductions, they carried on amongst themselves. I was content to sit next to Sam and just listen. They were an affectionate bunch and delighted in telling tales of past adventures, triumphs, and fiascos. Many of their stories centered around Sam, who laughed along good-naturedly. Some were embarrassing, like the time a young Sam tried to relieve a hive of bees of their honey and he had run hell-bent toward the freezing waters of the mountain spring-fed lake, shedding bee-covered articles of clothing along the way to escape their wrath. Others were heartwarming, such as how Sam spent every Sunday going around to neighbors, especially elderly ones, quietly doing home repairs. Every now and then, he would look over at me and wink, and I realized those recollections had been told for my benefit.

As if I hadn’t already figured out what a wonderful man he was.

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked as we walked back to his cabin later that evening.

The cold air felt good against my skin. It had started to snow again, and I lifted my face upward to catch a few flakes on my tongue.

“Great,” I told him honestly. “Though I don’t think I’ll be eating again for a week.”

He laughed, a rich, warm sound. “We tend to be hearty eaters.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

He opened the door to his cabin, and when we went inside, it felt like coming home.

“We’ve still got a few hours before it’s officially Christmas. What would you like to do?”

Once again, wholly inappropriate images assaulted my mind and laid siege. Some, like before, involved Sam’s big bed. Others included that down-filled comforter of his in front of the stone hearth. All made my heart pound and my body overheat. None were going to happen.

When his eyes flashed as if he could read my mind, I considered the possibility that he might not be wholly averse to the idea. Nevertheless, I had already decided how I would be spending the night.

“I’m really tired,” I said, feigning a yawn. “I think I’m just going to turn in, if it’s all right with you.”

Sam blinked, and the heat I had seen flaring in his eyes only a moment earlier changed to disappointment, then acceptance. “Of course. But don’t be surprised when I bang on the door at dawn. It is Christmas, you know.”

I laughed. “You’re like a little kid.”

He grinned. “Everyone’s a kid on Christmas. Goodnight, Chloe.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling heavily. I hated leaving him out in the living room all alone, and I hated disappointing him even more, but I was working on a tight deadline here. If I wanted my surprise to be under the tree by the time he woke up, I had to get moving.

I pulled out my paints and got to work.

Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when I finished. I was exhausted, but mostly pleased. Something just wasn’t right, though, but exactly what that was eluded me. Maybe it would come to me later and I could fix it. For now, I was out of time.

I hoped he liked it.

The idea had come to me while we were up at the lodge. I had been surprised to see that Sam had taken some of my canvases and put them up. He was so proud, boasting to anyone who would listen that I had done them.

I stood back and looked at my latest creation and smiled. My grizzly was there, like always, regal and magnificent in his natural surroundings. Only, he wasn’t alone this time. A woman stood with him, nuzzling her head against his neck. They looked good together. Content. Happy.

Opening the door a crack, I peeped out. Sam was curled up on the oversized couch, but I didn’t need to see him in order to hear him. His rumbling snores had provided a pleasant background music for me to paint by throughout most of the night.

I snuck out into the living room and hid the painting on the far side of the tree, out of sight. Turning around, I paused to appreciate the view.

A blanket covered Sam from the waist down, his top half bare. Tawny skin stretched over sculpted muscles, dusted with a slightly darker shade of golden-brown hair than appeared on his head. If there was a finer-looking man anywhere, I had never seen him.

A mischievous spark ignited from somewhere deep, and for a moment, I seriously considered launching myself onto his sleeping form and yelling, “Merry Christmas!” I refrained, though.

While I might think about doing things like that, they required a self-confidence and spontaneity I lacked. Instead, I tiptoed back into the bedroom, closed the door, and crawled into bed.