Page 28 of Single Dad's Christmas Cookie

“I do. I love my daughter. I see no reason not to give her everything she wants.”

“I was wrong earlier.”

“Oh, yeah? Do you frequently admit to when you are wrong? Should I make note of this momentous occasion?” I teased.

“I can see why Amelia wants all of your attention. Because when she has it, she has all of you. You give a hundred and ten percent of yourself. I see why it’s hard to work when she’s around for you.”

“Oh, really?” I leaned on the counter.

“You’re the kind of man who gives work your full attention. You can’t give all of yourself to both work and to Amelia. I know I said it was a balancing act you’re going to have to figure out, but you might not be able to balance, all or nothing. It’s not that she is demanding. It’s you being giving. It’s cute how much you like each other.” She glanced at me and then quickly looked away. “Your attention can be rather intense.”

“Am I intimidating you now?” I hadn’t realized how much into her personal space I had slid until she placed a damp hand on the center of my chest.

I slid my fingers around her hand.

“Bryan, we shouldn’t,” Nova said on a gasp.

“Shouldn’t what?” I asked as I lowered my head to hers. “What if I want to give my attention to you?”

Her lips were soft and warm as I claimed them. I had been dreaming of her mouth for days. She tasted better than my memories.

She pressed against me, sliding her hands up my chest, over my shoulders, and down my arms before reaching up and wrapping them around my neck. I slid my hand down the slope of her back as I dipped my tongue between her parted lips. We melted into each other, and time stood still as the kiss grew with intensity and purpose.

Nova stiffened and then was backing out of my embrace. “We can’t. We’re supposed to be keeping this professional, remember?”

My memories were fuzzy when it came to words, but my body remembered. And I wanted—no, needed—her back in my arms.

“I can’t. Not right now. Not like this.” She ran.

Something stopped me from running after her, that part of my brain that knew if I pursued her right now, she would never come back. I needed her to come back, not for Amelia, not to cook. I needed her to come back for me.

13

NOVA

Bryan kissed me and I panicked. I wanted to kiss him back. I had let myself be swept away by the feel of his body and the press of his lips. It would have been so easy to melt into him. I had wanted to.

But I couldn’t. I was supposed to be a cook, the help, part of the woodwork, not someone he noticed, certainly not someone he kissed. At least for two more weeks.

If I could just survive this temporary job, then maybe I could come back and we could date. But not right now. I shouldn’t do this. I ran.

The cold air hit my lungs hard, and I started to cough as soon as I got outside. I sat in my car, struggling to catch my breath around the coughing fit. I hadn’t even bothered to put my coat on. I dumped it on the seat next to me. I couldn’t believe I had let Bryan kiss me like that. I couldn’t believe I had kissed him back.

It had been a moment of weakness. I didn’t know if I could keep doing this, knowing that he was there in that house. Knowing what it felt like to be in his arms and pretending that I couldbe completely professional and unaffected by him. Because that was a lie. Could I hold out for two weeks? I needed to go home and think about whether I was ever going to come back.

My little car sputtered to life. I drove entirely too fast back to my equally little apartment. My small collection of rooms felt stuffy. I opened the kitchen window to let some cool air in. My choices in this place were either entirely too hot and closed in or no heat at all. At the moment, the cold air felt refreshing and soothing to my jangled nerves once I got over the coughing.

I picked up my phone and texted my best friend back home. ‘Can you talk?’ I asked. I needed something to take my focus off the whirlwind in my head.

Not even a minute later, my phone was ringing with a video call.

“Are you okay?” Veronica asked immediately.

I could see the top of her forehead and the ceiling in her bedroom as she walked around.

“Hey, I’ve been better,” I admitted.

“Your mom said you weren’t coming home. You finally told her.”

---