Page 75 of Merry Mended Hearts

I swallowed down a lump in my throat, attempting to grasp his meaning.

“Then you don’t regret kissing me last night?”

He came to me, then. With every step he took closer to me, my body ignited, wagging its tail like an excited puppy.

He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles, sending a zing of shivers down my spine.

“I’ve never had a kiss take over me like that. Not in years. I was about to lose myself in your lips, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

My blood heated in my veins. All night long, I’d nestled into the night’s happy turn and wondered if he was as enthralled by me as I was by him. But this admission? I’d never expected to hear anything like that.

“It wouldn’t?” I asked.

“No. Not when I can’t promise you more than that. If we’re getting close to each other, it should mean more than a one-time-only kind of thing. You’ve got a man waiting for you back home. A job, a family. And I’m a recluse here, miles away from anyone, who spends his time with horses. We can’t have more than last night, so I don’t want to fill either of us with false hope.”

His voice carried an edge of agony with it. Was he really worrying about me—or himself?

I’d told him how unhappy I was down in Arizona. I’d be ready to give it all up if he was offering.

But that was so foolish, I couldn’t even say it. We’d only just met.

He was right—a kiss like what we’d shared last night made it feel like we were more connected than we actually were.

Boone had lost someone he loved, and he clearly didn’t want to get anyone like that again.

“She’s why you don’t like Christmas, isn’t she?” I asked softly. “It reminds you of her.”

Boone turned back to our plates of bacon and eggs. The scent called to my empty stomach, and even though the food was getting cold, I didn’t sit down to eat yet.

“It happened the night before Christmas,” he said sadly. “I left everything behind when she died because everything reminds me of her. But Christmas worst of all.”

Sorrow strummed in my chest. I couldn’t imagine how this made him feel.

I’d never had a person who was close to me pass away, but enduring the loss of someone so close had to be a bombshell. And to have it happen at such a pivotal time of year? One that kept coming around every December?

“I’m so sorry. I can see why this time of year is painful for you.”

He may not think so, but loving again after losing someone was possible. While I wasn’t so sure about Santa Claus, I fully believed that.

“What if…” I began, pressing on before I lost my nerve. “What if we tried to make this work? I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to let you go.”

I’d never been this decisive in my life, but I was surer than anything that I wanted to get to know him better. I didn’t want last night to be our only kiss.

“Her name was Grace.” His voice was deadly soft.

“What?”

“Amy and I. It was the name we’d picked out for our daughter. All good things come from Christ’s grace. We wanted her to have that name. Lovely as you are, I can’t have that reminder.”

Tears stung my eyes. I remembered how he’d recoiled the day we’d met. I’d thought his withdrawal was because I’d claimed not to believe in Santa Claus, but his disgust had been because of me.

I read what he wasn’t saying: No matter what solutions we might try, I couldn’t escape my own name.

“Then you never should have kissed me,” I said.

His eyes were hard again when they met mine. They were ice. No, they were the sledgehammer against ice.

“You’re right,” he said. “But I won’t say I’m sorry for that.”

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