No Gentle Giant (A Small Town Romance)

Propping my elbows up on the coffee bar, I watch them fondly, grinning fit to crack.

I can’t help myself.

That Herculean dork.

That amazing, handsome, Herculean, dorkalicious dork.

He’s so fire he’s almost too handsome for life in the early sunrise filtering in through the windows. It’s hard to drag my eyes off him, but I lift the tray I’ve put together with a cup of Alaska’s favorite dark roast with a generous splash of sugar and a hot cocoa for Eli.

Stepping around the bar, I raise my voice to get their attention.

“Break time!” I call. “Actually, time to stop. I’ve got to unlock the doors in fifteen minutes, or half the town will riot if they don’t get their morning caffeine hit.”

“Good timing. We’re just about finished,” Alaska says, stepping back and eyeing the last framed photo with a critical look.

“Thanks, Fel!” Eli bounces over to steal his cocoa with a grateful chirp.

Alaska lingers a while longer, then turns to me with an easy, relaxed smile, reaching for the mug and lifting it to his lips. “Damn, that’s good. Thanks. I might actually survive finishing the inspections on the museum’s foundation today with this.”

I tuck myself against his side, burying my face in his beard for a few wonderful seconds.

It’s so much easier to be casual with touching, with wanting affection, now.

Because I trust him.

I trust him to keep me and not to push me away.

I trust him to want me.

Possibly—hopefully—forever.

And I’m happy with the massive arm he hooks around my waist, holding me comfortably against his side as we look at the photos together.

“How far off is the grand opening?” I ask.

“It’ll be a while,” he says. “At least a couple years. Once the building’s certified to code, the town’s still got to officially move in, hire staff, move things over, the works.” He grins, turning his head to tease his thick beard into my hair. “My part’s almost done, though, if you’re getting used to having me playing houseboy.”

“Don’t you mean café boy?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Nah. That’s a little too close to rent boy, lady.”

“Weeeeell...” I sputter into laughter.

“Hey.” He barks out a laugh. “I mean, I’m happy earning my keep with you any day, Fliss.” His gaze softens as he lingers on the photos. “Hell, I just like doing things that feel like making a home with you. Whether it’s here or at the house.”

Eli rolls his eyes playfully. “Ugh, Dad, you’ve gone so soppy.”

“Damn right I have,” Alaska barks, grinning shamelessly and tightening his hold on me. “And don’t think you’re getting out of housework, either, young man. We’re redoing the baseboards in your room and then painting the whole thing.”

“Aww, my room’s fine!” Groaning, Eli slumps.

“Your room’s not fine, because your room used to be my room, and it wasn’t 'fine' when I was your age, either,” I point out, struggling not to laugh when he looks so dejected. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ll make it a party. We can order pizza and if we all pitch in with your dad’s muscle, we’ll be done in no time.”

“With that room, you mean.” He sighs. “You’re gonna make me help with the rest of the house too, aren’t you? Can’t I just walk Shrub all winter?”

Alaska shakes his head slowly, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

We share a look, loving how easily Eli’s bonded with my pet mop.

“You live in Felicity’s house now, same as me, which means you help. Especially if you want to turn that old storage room into a darkroom. You’ve gotta earn that, polecat.”

“Careful.” I poke Alaska’s side gently. “It’s our house. Not mine. Not anymore, if it ever truly was. We’re all working on the renovations and making it ours.”

I love that, honestly.

I love that we’re rebuilding the old house together. Rebranding it as ours, a symbol of three lives merging into happy unity.

Bit by bit, we’re turning it from this haunted shell of old memories into something fresh.

Something wholesome and happy.

Something we made.

A huge restart button you can crawl inside and live, and fall in love with.

Paxton’s eyes echo my whirlwind thoughts as he turns to look down at me with that russet-brown gaze glowing.

“My bad. It’s our home,” he rumbles. “Not just a house.”

“Sure is,” I whisper back softly, beaming like the sun.

I can’t help how my breath skips, how my heart stutters when he looks down at me that way.

Sweet God, I wish I had time right freaking now for what the heat in his eyes promises.

But there’s still a moment to rise up on my toes and press a sticky kiss to his lips, keeping it soft and chaste with Eli watching, but still lingering.

I take my time with that heated, firm mouth and the familiar scrape of his beard.

Sighing, I sink back down off my toes, curling my hands against his chest.