A Forever Christmas - By Marie Ferrarella Page 0,46

to Gabe.

But as she came up to it, studying the tree intently, Angel cocked her head as if that gave her a different perspective. “Still…”

“No, no ‘still,’” Gabe told her firmly, taking the first swing at the tree’s trunk with his hatchet. “This is the tree you just picked and this is the tree that’s coming home with us.” There was no room for argument as he took a second swing and made contact again.

She threw her hands up in surrender. “Okay. You’re right. This is the tree.” And then she chewed on her bottom lip. He’d begun to realize that she did that whenever she was undecided and vacillating between choices. “It’s just that, since this is your first Christmas tree in your new house, I wanted the tree to be perfect.”

He took a third swing. “First off, the house isn’t new—”

“It is to you,” she pointed out as hatchet met tree again. Gabe had on a jacket, but she could just see his muscles rippling.

“And second,” he continued, “there’s no such thing as ‘perfect.’”

Which was when Angel smiled up into his face. The look in her eyes caused his gut to all but seize up and do backflips.

“Yes, there is,” she told him softly and pointedly—just before she brushed her lips against his.

And just as with the first time, Gabe found himself utterly captivated, unable to resist her.

Unable to resist the powerful need that sprang up within him. The need to take her into his arms and kiss her for all he was worth.

Releasing the hatchet, Gabe swept her into his arms and kissed her hard.

He was surprised by the force of the kiss that met him. Angel had not only returned his kiss, she damn well matched it.

Gabe could feel his body firing up, and for one dizzying moment he thought of giving in and making love with her right here, in the middle of the forest.

The next moment, the absurdity of the thought hit him. He was an adult, a representative of the law, for heaven’s sake, not some sex-starved adolescent with his first girlfriend.

Drawing away, he laughed softly at himself, shaking his head. When had he reverted back to his adolescence? He might not have been the most clear thinking of men, but he’d always been aware of what he was doing, aware of how things might look to someone else. Recklessness was not part of his nature.

Until now.

Taking in a breath, he framed her face as he looked into it. Even such a small, innocent action stirred his heart.

“We keep going like this, we’re going to wind up with hypothermia,” he warned.

Taking in a deep breath, she waited until she released it again and had steadied herself just a little. Angel nodded as she glanced down at the ground. “Might make for an interesting snow angel—if there was snow on the ground,” she commented.

“Speaking of which.” Gabe pointed up to the sky with an amused laugh. As if on cue, the lightest of flurries had begun to descend. “Just how did you do that?” he teased.

Her eyes crinkled. “Wishful thinking.”

He picked up the hatchet again. “Well, wish for it to continue being light until I finish cutting down your tree.”

“Our tree,” she corrected since it was going into his house and he was providing the elbow grease used to cut it down.

He took another swing, cutting away a little more of the trunk. “Our tree,” he amended agreeably.

And, heaven help him, he really liked the sound of that. Liked the sound of the word our. This after he’d sworn off having anything to do with the so-called “softer” sex, other than serving and protecting them in his capacity as deputy sheriff.

Without firing so much as a single shot, this petite, vibrant woman had managed to capture him and take him prisoner.

The tree came down after a few more swings of his hatchet. Though he told her he could handle it, Angel insisted on helping him bind up the tree and, together, they got it up on the roof of his vehicle. He was surprised at how strong she turned out to be.

Gabe strapped the Scotch pine down as securely as he could and then they drove back to his house. He was careful to drive slowly, going at a speed that a lame turtle might have thought to be embarrassing. But it was necessary; otherwise, the wind might have wound up knocking off the tree or even taking his roof with it.

Consequently, it was