Page 39 of A Match Made at Christmas

So he told her the whole story. He told her how he went to Egypt, against the better judgment of everyone in his professional circle. How he was walking through the market, minding his own business, when across the street, a man got into a car and started the engine.

“I can still see his face,” Hayes said. “He was young, maybe early twenties. I don’t know what he was mixed up in or if he was one of the good guys, but he turned the ignition and there was this horrible sound—an explosion, then screams throughout the street.”

Hayes felt the blast of the car bomb from where he stood. It heated his face. In the commotion, someone pushed him down, but he couldn’t get the man’s face out of his head. Hayes had watched him walk out of a nearby restaurant. They’d made eye contact before the man got in his car.

And now he was dead. Just like that.

He spilled the entire story, surprising even himself, and now sat, mesmerized by the twinkling white lights they’d strung on the mantel behind Pru.

She didn’t say anything. She simply moved closer and held him, perfectly still, as the sadness oozed out of him. He didn’t like to be that guy—the one with issues. He was Hayes McGuire, life of the party. But not with Pru. With Pru, he could be whoever he was and feel whatever he felt.

He was tired of pretending, and she was his safe place.

They sat for a long time, and Hayes tried not to relive the horror over and over again. The fire flickered and Jimmy Stewart’s still face stared at them from the paused movie on the television screen.

It was quiet and peaceful, and Pru smelled so good, like cookies and cinnamon. He wrapped his arms around her and lay back, her body nestled between him and the back of the couch, her head on his chest. This wasn’t weird, right? They were friends. This was perfectly normal.

He’d stopped thinking about Pru as anything else when she turned him down—twice—confident he could be the friend she needed. That didn’t stop just because they were practically cuddling on her sofa.

She clicked the movie on and they watched till the end, but as the credits rolled, he

discovered she’d fallen asleep on him.

Heart otherwise engaged.

He knew why he didn’t want that to be true. He knew it, but he’d never admit it out loud because admitting it meant that his feelings for Pru had changed, and he couldn’t let that happen—not if he wanted to keep her in his life. But as he drifted off to sleep, he tried not to think about waking her up and kissing her. It wasn’t easy, he was overcome with the desire.

He needed his head and heart to get in line.

But it’d be a whole lot easier if her body wasn’t tucked in his arms.

Chapter 12

The Morning After

Morning sun filtered in through the windows, turning the living room bright white. Pru squinted as her eyes opened and she discovered she was on the couch again, this time using Hayes as her pillow.

Had she slept here? On the couch? With Hayes?

She lifted her head ever so slightly.

Andoh my gosh—had she drooled on Hayes’s shirt?

She swiped at her cheek and backed away to discover that she had, in fact, drooled on the man. But she also realized she’d slept soundly through the night. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. His head was tilted slightly away from her, but his lips wereright there.If she wanted, she could wake him with kisses.

What would it be like to have the right to do that?

She put a hand on his chest, marveling at the rise and fall of his breathing, and still processing the things he’d told her the night before. No wonder the spark in his eyes had gone. No wonder he always looked tired.

In just a few days, they’d attend the preview party, then the stroll and then, as far as she knew, he would board the ferry and go, off to live a life that, for the most part, didn’t include Pru.

Slowly, she slid from his grasp, thankful she didn’t wake him. She brushed her teeth and finger-combed her hair, then stood outside the bathroom staring at Hayes, fast asleep on her sofa.

He’d rolled over onto his side but still breathed deeply, and it was a wonder to watch him like that—beautiful and peaceful and . . . beautiful. She could’ve told him last night how she felt about him. She could’ve said she didn’t want to end up like Peggy, sitting with the weight of regret, having never spoken up about her real feelings.

But in the end, she’d chosen silence, just like always. Because she couldn’t lose Hayes. She loved him too much to ever even consider that he wouldn’t be a part of her life.

She couldn’t stand that thought. She’d resigned herself to taking him however she could get him.

---