The Snuggle Is Real: A Cozy AF Christmas Page 4

  He frowns, walking toward the bathroom. “I’m not.”

  My heart stops. “What?” I ask, frozen.

  He turns, giving me a smile. “I thought I was taken. I’m with you now, aren’t I?”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. “You scared me.”

  He walks toward me, squeezing my ass. “Don’t you worry. I told you, I got you.”

  I smile tightly, wondering if he’d feel the same if he knew the whole truth. The money I stole means trouble is coming for me. And if he’s by my side, it means it’s coming for him too.

  We make breakfast together and Whitaker finds an old tray in a cupboard, placing the steaming cups of coffee spiked with whiskey on it. I carry the plates of French toast to the coffee table, ready to dig into the slices covered in bourbon maple syrup.

  “For being a stranger, I sure do like spending this holiday with you,” I say, taking a bite. We sit on the couch, snuggled close.

  He lifts an eyebrow as he takes a drink of coffee. “We’re not strangers anymore, Cozy.”

  I nod, wanting to believe him. But when has a man ever been this good?

  “What’s that under the tree?” he asks.

  I smile, walking over and taking the wrapped package in my hand. “It’s your Christmas present,” I say with a wink.

  He laughs. “But you didn’t even know I was gonna be here.”

  “True, but I made this and thought the tree looked lonely, so I wrapped it up anyways. It’s actually perfect for you.”

  “Is that so?” he asks, unwrapping the gift. He pulls out the thick knitted scarf, the forest green and cream colors perfect for him. “You made this?”

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, blushing. “Yeah. I found the yarn in a closet.”

  He wraps it around his neck. “It is special that you made it, but even more special that it was with yarn from my grandma.”

  “You won’t hold it against me? That I stole yarn too?”

  Whitaker’s eyes narrow and he takes my hands in his. “Stop, Cozy. Stop trying to pretend what is happening between the two of us doesn’t matter. I think it was fate that you ended up here. And it’s not the boozy coffee talking. It’s the truth.”

  Tears prick my eyes and I’m about to say something more, but then there is banging knock on the door. Loud. We must have been so caught up in the moment that we didn’t hear someone pull up the driveway.

  “That’s odd,” Whitaker says, standing. He walks over to the door without a fear in the world. He is not like me. He doesn’t live with constant fear and threats — he believes that the world is a safe place. I hate that I’m the one changing that for him.

  “Careful Whit,” I say, my voice catching, fear in my heart. I’m not ready for this fantasy to end.

  But he’s already opened the door. It’s Max and Joe.

  And they are both holding guns, pointing them straight at us.

  Chapter Eleven

  Whitaker

  Her scream breaks my heart.

  And I will not stand for these men threatening her. Not now, not ever.

  “There you are,” one of them sneers. “You know how long it took for us to track you down?”

  Cozy has her hands in the air, tears running down her cheeks. I don’t have a gun, or any other weapon in the cabin, but I grab the axe hanging on the wall.

  “Max,” she begs. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

  The man with a goatee sneers, walking toward her and side-eying me. “What, you think you’re gonna chop me up, big shit?”

  The other man laughs. He has a big belly and he keeps sucking his teeth. “Yeah, we know who you are, Whitaker Lancaster. We know about your company.”

  I tense, walking toward Cozy, standing in front of her as Max walks closer with the gun pointed at my gut.

  “Where is the money, Cozette?” Max seethes. “Because we know you took it.”

  “I … I don’t have it…” she says shakily. “Joe,” she says looking at the other man. “You have to believe me. I’ve never lied to you.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have it? I have a goddamn video camera next to the safe, and we saw you take the cash before you left. You stupid little slut.”

  “I did take it… but…” She shakes her head, wiping her tears away. “But it’s gone now.”

  Trying to read these men, I narrow in on the gun. I need him to drop it. Fast.

  “Put your gun down and we can talk,” I say calmly, wanting to remain in control. Holding this axe, I have a feeling this situation could turn deadly all too fast.

  “Talk?” Joe laughs. “I don’t talk.”

  Max smirks. “Yeah, you just eat.”

  Joe walks to the coffee table and takes a plate of French toast, eating it as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. I back around, keeping myself between Cozy and these men.

  “Where is the money?” Max demands.

  “I took it. I did. I stole the money but then the car… It was broken into while I was in a store. Nothing is left.”

  “Who would break into your piece of shit car?” Joe asks, licking his syrupy fingers.

  Cozette reaches for my hand; I hold onto her tight. She is shaking like she might blow over any moment. “Did you hire someone to come after me? Because maybe they double-crossed you.”

  Max hisses his distaste, focusing on Joe. “Motherfucking Andre. I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

  It gives me enough time to act. I use his anger at Andre to take control. I move toward him, quickly, and I swing the flat of the axe into his gun arm, knocking the gun loose and him to his feet. Reaching for his hand with the gun, I bend his wrist until he lets go of the revolver. It slides to the floor and Cozette runs for it as it spins on the hardwood.

  With the gun in her hand, she lifts it, cocking it. My girl is one bad ass woman and it makes me love her all the more.

  Using both hands, I shove the axe handle under Max’s chin, I choke him. Making the decision is easy. He either does what we want or he dies.

  Joe drops the plate of French toast and it cracks as it hits the floor, but Cozy, with tears falling down her porcelain cheeks, turns to him. “I am not your property anymore. I heard your plans. You want to sell me to the highest bidder? Well, that won’t happen. I will kill you before I let it.”

  “Drop the gun, Cozette,” Max breathes, though the words are choked as he struggles. “Don’t do something stupid.”

  “Stupid?” she asks. “The stupid thing was letting you keep me locked up for how many years? I don’t need you and I never did.”

  Joe’s arms are now raised and he looks at Cozy, trying to gain her sympathy. “We took good care of you,” he says.

  “Care of me? You don’t know the first thing about care. Whitaker, though, he understands what it means to protect someone. Protect me.”

  Max’s fingers grab at the wooden axe handle, but I don’t let up. “He doesn’t care about you, Cozy,” Max grunts. “You’re trash.”

  With that, my anger pushes past a breaking point and I use both hands to hold the handle against the guys neck as I knee him in the nuts . “Don’t talk about my wife like that.”

  “Wife?” Cozy turns to me, but the gun is still trained on Joe.

  “Yes, my wife,” I say, my adrenaline racing, my need for her stronger than it has ever been. “I fucking love you, Cozette, and I won’t let these fuckers ruin what we’ve got.”

  “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she says, whispering.

  “I know, baby,” I say. “How much money do they need to be paid off?”

  “Two hundred grand,” she whimpers.

  Fuck, that’s a lot of cash. And all I can think is, what would be happening to her right now in this cabin if I wasn’t here? If they had tracked her down and she’d been confronted by these two thugs?

  It fucking kills me to think about… about her being alone with these men, threatened and scared. I thank God that I’m here. That this is my cabin and that I
felt the need to leave the city yesterday.

  I take the gun from Cozy, and she takes my phone. I march toward the men until they are pinned to the wall.

  Cozy is on the phone, talking to a 911 operator.

  Soon enough the cops are here, handcuffing Max and Joe and I have Cozy wrapped tight in my arms.

  “That’s the address to the compound,” she tells the officers once the men are in a police car. “There’s cocaine in the safe, and illegal guns too. You can call me into the station any time you want. But right now, I’m spending Christmas morning with my husband.”

  I lift my eyebrows, in awe of Cozy, as she speaks with a police officer. She may think she comes from a bad place, but it’s made her a strong ass woman. I’m so proud of her.

  As she finishes with the offices, I refill our coffee cups, clean up the broken dish, put things away in the bedroom, and listen as Cozy explains to the officer how she has this information. It slays me to know she was held by them for so long and it makes me want to work even harder to be the safe haven she deserves.

  When the cops leave, we both exhale, my love for her stronger than I could have imagined. How is it possible to fall so hard, so damn fast?

  “I can’t believe I did that, stood up for myself.”

  I pull her to me. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of me too.”

  I lift her chin, kissing her softly. Later, I know the police will be here for an official statement, and that our life might be messy for a while until this is all cleared up, but right now, I am standing next to the Christmas tree with the only woman I’ve ever loved.

  “You know, you gave me a Christmas gift, but I didn’t get a chance to give you yours.”

  She smiles. “You don’t have a present for me… we just met.”

  “We did just meet, but your gift was here all along, just waiting for your finger.”

  “Finger?” she asks, her eyes widening as I pull a ring from my pocket. It had been stowed away in the dresser in the bedroom.

  “It was my grandma’s engagement ring. And look,” I say, sliding it onto her ring finger, “it fits you perfectly.”

  “Are you really doing this?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

  “We are really doing this.” I lift her up in my arms, carrying her to the couch. “Come here, Cozy, it’s time to get our snuggle on.”

  Epilogue

  Cozette

  One year later…

  Our first Christmas morning at the cabin was dramatic — a pointed gun, police officers, a proposal — it was a lot.

  This year it isn’t dangerous, but it is still dramatic.

  How could it not be when we have three-month-old twins with us?

  Yes, that is correct. We had twins! I guess we did more than snuggle in front of the fire… we made a baby. Well, two of them.

  And God, are they adorable.

  And loud.

  So very loud.

  I laugh, rocking Vale in my arms; Whitaker has Icelyn in his. We’re pacing the cabin and making eye contact every so often. Colic is no joke, and we are seriously tired — probably as tired as these ridiculously cute yet sobbing infants.

  “Maybe if you put Icelyn in her swing, you can make us coffee?” I ask, pleading at my hubby.

  “Will do,” he says. “And maybe we can add a little extra whiskey because damn, my nerves.”

  I laugh through my exhaustion. Being parents has transformed us in a million ways. I never knew how hard it was to be a parent, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. And that is saying something, considering Vale is still letting me know just how unhappy he is.

  I wish I could make it all better, but I know the best thing I can do is stay calm, be patient, and try to breathe through it all.

  With Icelyn in her swing, I expect the cabin to get even louder, but by some Christmas miracle, it calms her.

  My eyes widen, meeting Whitaker’s. He laughs silently, pressing a finger to his lips.

  Oh. Vale has stopped crying too. It’s like these twins have a sixth sense for one another, always copying each other. If it means they are both silent for a moment, I will take it.

  “His eyes are closed,” Whitaker whispers. I nod, rocking him slowly as I transition him to the swing next to Icelyn’s.

  The Christmas music is playing low on the surround sound system — yes, Whitaker upgraded it after last Christmas. Along with installing new appliances and a state of the art security system.

  I joked, saying I would have been in trouble if he had installed it before I broke in. But he ensures me that my sneaking into this cabin was the best thing that ever happened to him.

  It’s the best thing that ever happened to me too.

  The babies are sound asleep, and Whitaker asks if I still want coffee. But I shake my head. “No,” I whisper, “I want you.”

  He bites his bottom lip, lifting me up by my waist, carrying me down the hall to the bedroom. My legs wrapped around him, he places me on the bed. I undo the belt on my bathrobe, revealing a red satin nightie. “Merry Christmas,” I tell him as he climbs on top of me.

  “Look at this present,” he growls in my ear. “Almost too pretty to touch.”

  I laugh softly, taking his hand and placing it on my breast. ‘Oh, you’re touching,” I say. “I need you, Whit.”

  “Good, because baby, I need you too.”

  It’s been a long few months with the babies, and I miss my husband. So I am not wasting this moment of quiet. Neither is he.

  He runs his hands over my hips, lifting the nightie and pressing his mouth to my pussy, licking me up and down and making me so damn horny. “Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs as I wrap my legs around his neck, needing his mouth closer. His tongue licks me, circling my clit, and I’m wet for him, for his thick cock. I reach down, desperate to touch his length.

  “I love you,” I moan as he fingers me, opening me up and making me his. He knows just how to flick my clit, just how to press my buttons, and make me drip so fast.

  I arch my back as he takes me, and I beg him to come inside me. “I want you,” I pant as I come hard, my desire coursing through my body as the orgasm moves over me.

  “Yes,” I whimper, “yes.”

  When I finish, he looks deep in my eyes, seeing all of me. Our year has been filled with learning curves and adjustments. I moved into his city loft, and I learned about his life there, encouraged him to pursue building an app that means something to him. He built one that helps women in crisis find help — and I am so proud of him for the work he has done.

  He has given me two beautiful babies, and a cabin in the woods when we want to get away from the stress of his job — all of it is more than I could have imagined a year ago when I was running away, broke and alone. I didn’t understand the people that say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year… but now, I do.

  Because I am one of those people — the person whose wishes all came true..

  More Cozy AF Christmas!

  Snow Place Like Home

  by Olivia T. Turner

  The Snuggle is Real

  by Frankie Love

  Totally Smitten

  by Hope Ford

  Polar Opposites

  by Dani Wyatt

  This Christmas will be steamier than ever with four new hot standalone stories by four of your favorite romance authors! Light the fire, grab a glass of wine, and settle into your favorite chair for A Cozy AF Christmas! All $0.99 and in Kindle Unlimited.

  More Frankie Love Christmas!

  Kissmas Wishes

  Time to make all your Kissmas Wishes come true!

  Six Christmas Romances in one collection…

  Mistletoe Mountain

  Meeting Evie was serendipity … and letting her go isn’t an option.

  But her life isn’t built around Mistletoe Mountain the way mine is.

  This mountain man is hoping for a Christmas miracle.

  Sugar Mountain Christmas Bride


  The last thing I expect to find at the bakery is the cutest Christmas cookie I’ve ever seen.

  I didn’t come to Linesworth to find a bride, but I’m not leaving this mountain until I make Noelle my wife.

  Merry Me

  I have one intention — prove to Holly I can be the mountain man she needs.

  I’m holding out for more than a Christmas miracle.

  I’m going to get myself a Christmas bride.

  Let’s Merry Christmas

  Meeting a woman like CeeCee is the last thing I expect on Christmas Eve.

  Now we’re both stranded at an airport and I’m determined to make the best of it.

  It’s time to make her lumberjack fantasies come true.

  His Sugarplum

  I don’t want to ruin Sugar… but she’s my sugarplum now.

  And I’m ready to taste my Christmas treat.

  Home Is Where The Beard Is

  It's the season for miracles and maybe just this once I'll get the present I've wanted all my life:

  Maple St. Claire in my arms under the mistletoe.

  Order Now: KISSMAS WISHES

  About the Author

  Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men.

  As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters.

  She also believes in the power of a quickie.

  Join Frankie Love’s Mailing List for a free book … plus never miss a new release:

  https://frankielove.net/newsletter/