Epilogue

EPILOGUE

“ I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.’”— A Visit from St. Nicholas , Clement Clarke Moore

Three years later

Moody

Garlands tied in bright-red ribbons cascaded over the steps next to countless strings of colorful lights that were destined to be hung along the roof and wrapped around the base of the amber tree in our yard. A giant wreath with red bulbs and holly was already on the front door and the sprig of mistletoe had been strategically placed in the eaves above the porch swing Hudson had bought me for Christmas two years ago. I loved it.

And I loved how festive the house would look as soon as we got our keisters in gear and decorated.

“Would you prefer to drape garlands or hang the lights, good sir?”

Hudson quirked a grin from under his Stetson. The familiar kind that made me feel gooey on the inside.

He propped a ladder along the side of the house and pointed at the lights. “Lights first, baby. You know the drill. This will go fastest if you’re my elf.”

“Yes, but I will not wear the hat,” I replied primly. “That bell is ridiculous.”

“You’re so damn cute in it, though,” he drawled, climbing the ladder. “Okay, let’s start with strand number one.”

“This one?”

“No, that’s number five.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Oh, got it. Here it is.”

“That’s number two.” Hudson hiked one boot on an upper rung and flashed one of those Not Safe for General Public looks. “Are we playing a game now?”

“What do you mean?” I tried fluttering my lashes, which never went quite as planned as I tended to resemble a defective mechanical toy.

“You know. The one where we reenact a saucy scene from a cowboy romance. If I’m the alpha cowboy who’s gonna paint your back porch red for being a brat, fill me in, baby. We’ve got two hours of daylight and a whole lot of Christmas decorating to do.”

I clasped my hand over my mouth and faux fainted against the nearest tree. Of course, I didn’t actually fall to the ground…the leaves were mucky, and the German shepherd down the street liked to do her business in our yard. “Well, I never…”

“I’ll make you a deal. Tell me the filthiest scene you want to work on while we string lights and”—he paused to wave to Mrs. McKenzie across the street, continuing our conversation as if we’d been discussing the weather report—“put up the garland.”

“Okay…” I grinned at our neighbor as I collected the first string of lights and handed it to my husband. “I read a new one with a cowboy and an insurance salesman. The salesman sells the cowboy a bag of goods, and as they say, a skirmish ensues. They wrestle to the ground and well…one thing leads to another.”

Hudson fastened the lights to the hooks on the roof, a wide grin on his sinfully handsome face. “So you want to wrestle with me?”

I pushed my glasses higher on my nose and shook my head. “That would be a swift and unfortunate battle, so no. But we could pretend.”

“We could,” he agreed. “What about a naughty holiday story?”

I beamed like a madman. Not everyone was as lucky as I was, and I knew it. I’d married my soul mate and best friend—the one person who understood me, accepted me, and always put me first.

Three years ago, we’d made a vow not to rush into a major commitment. Sure, we were boyfriends, but we didn’t have to adhere to a timeline. But one year later, Hudson moved into my house and commuted to the ranch. Six months after that, he proposed on a cliffside overlooking the winery. There was a sumptuous picnic, a glorious sunset, and a few mosquito bites. But gosh, it was so romantic.

We were married at the ranch that December…one year ago. It was the largest venue in the area, and we’d had quite a few out-of-town guests to accommodate. We divided our time evenly between Christmas Town and Oak Ridge, so it made sense to have a classy country wedding before returning to the land of year-round holiday shenanigans.

And yes, Hudson’s mom was a regular visitor. She fell in love with Christmas Town, just as her son suspected she might. I think she could tell we were madly in love and that Hudson was happy here. That was all she’d wanted for him.

So…why December?

Well, I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. I wasn’t afraid of losing or being left behind. No more tears, no more sadness.

I had Hudson now. And he had me. There would be no more grumpy holidays. Only joy.

“Santa and the sassy elf has been overdone. Santa and the cowboy has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” I pointed at the lights. “That one is crooked.”

Hudson fixed the light in question and hopped off the ladder, pulling me into a sneak-attack hug and fusing his mouth to mine. We broke apart with a laugh and stared at each other as if in wonder.

“You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.”

“Ever? Better than the Xbox console you coveted in your teens?” I teased, snaking my arms around his waist.

“A thousand times better. No comparison.” He traced the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. “I love you, Moody.”

“I love you, too.”

And I would forever.

I’d learned to let go of hurt and sadness. It hadn’t been easy…until Hudson. And now…I craved this life—the silly stories, the quiet nights, the laughter.

I believed in second chances and happy endings. I believed in the spirit of the holidays…with hope and love.

Thank you for reading Moody and Hudson’s story!

Turn the page for more information about my upcoming hockey romance, Puck Love , the final book in the Elmwood Stories series. And be sure to subscribe to my newsletter, Lane’s Letters for upcoming release news!