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A Blizzard of Love

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When I get to the door, I hesitate and stand there staring at it. Behind me is what felt like my forever, and outside it’s nothing. I close my eyes, and for half a second, I think about running back to her and telling her that she’s wrong and she’s supposed to choose me. But I won’t be the thing that breaks up a home.

With all the strength I have, I walk away from the woman I’ve just fallen in love with.

Chapter Three

BRI

“What was that?” I whisper to myself.

My heart is still pounding out of my chest, but it never stopped once Wilder walked through the door. He’s the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life. Emphasis on the word man.

I never really thought I had a type, but clearly I want them to have thighs as thick as tree trunks, rugged beards, and eyes so blue they could pierce your soul. Because that’s what Wilder has done to me. He marked me and then he turned and walked away.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m rounding the counter and stepping out the front door of the shop. I watch Wilder’s taillights disappear, and my heart starts to slow. But then that familiar ache of loss returns. I’d almost forgotten the pain for a moment. I reach up and rub the center of my chest, and the ache is worse now. How is that even possible? Or maybe I think it’s worse because it lifted for a second and something else filled the space.

“Bri?” Grams touches my arm, pulling me back to the moment. I didn’t even see her come back. I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here. “You okay?” She gives me a curious look.

“Yeah.” My eyes are still trained on where Wilder’s truck disappeared to.

“I think we can close up. Did Wilder come by? He was the last order I was waiting on.”

“He just left.” I look away from the road and notice more snowflakes fall and land in Grams’ silver hair.

“All right, let's lock up.” I nod in agreement, following Grams back into the store. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey?” she asks again.

She’s worrying over me. “Wilder.” The second the word is out of my mouth, Grams smirks, and I bite my tongue, deciding not to ask about him.

She’s always asking me about different men that come in that she knows are single and if I think they’re good-looking. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s trying to get me out of her house, but I know Grams loves love and is just a romantic at heart. She also probably wants some great-grandbabies too.

“Go on,” she pushes, flipping the open sign over to closed. “Have you got a question about Wilder?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

Heat rushes to my face, making me blush like a schoolgirl. What the hell? I don’t blush, but maybe because there’s never been a reason to. I guess with Wilder I do, and that only makes Grams’ smile even bigger.

“He’s single.”

“And not interested,” I admit so she’ll let it go.

“You sure?”

I shrug. “One second I thought he was flirting with me and the next he was out the door like his booty was on fire.”

“Wilder flirted with you?” She lifts her brows, seeming genuinely surprised.

“I think. There was this moment where it happened, but then something changed and he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” I try to fight my disappointment, but it’s overwhelming for some reason.

“Wilder doesn’t date, and he doesn’t go around flirting with girls. He must be interested!” She claps excitedly. Wow, she must really think he’s a good one. Damn.

“Did you not hear the part about him running out of here?” I remind her as I go around the counter and start closing up the register.

“Something must have spooked him. The Thompson men are a different breed.”

“A thoroughbred,” I mutter under my breath.

“They sure are some big mountain men,” Grams giggles. “But I’m guessing it freaked him out or something.” I think she says the last part to herself because she’s got a quizzical expression on her face. I keep on closing up because I need to get out of here. I feel like I need to go, and the sensation starts to become overwhelming. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m all over the place inside.

“Crap!” I gasp.

When I reach for the bag to put the cash in, I spot a small box I missed earlier. I pull it out and see Wilder’s name is scribbled across the side in blue marker.

“Oh!” Grams shouts, not giving the box any attention.

“I’m sorry, Grams. Can I run it out to them or something?” I offer. The last thing I want right now is a run-in with Wilder after what just happened, but this is my fault. I’d been so wrapped up in him I hadn’t given him his whole dang order.



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