Page 69 of A Class of Her Own

His eyebrows raised. “Care to share it?”

“Nope.”

His hand moved up to my neck, where he kneaded softly. “I’m a patient man. I’ll figure it out. In fact, I already have a theory.”

“You do not.”

He simply hummed in his throat and leaned down to kiss me along my jaw. Flames licked up the side of my neck as he did so, and I closed my eyes. My arms had been wedged between us, but I moved them around his waist. His lips pressed to mine, and even though I was unsure of just about everything, I sighed and relaxed into it, experiencing that same sense of powerful connection that I had the first time. He smelled like cider and tasted like sweet frosting and cinnamon, and I didn’t have one hesitation as he pulled me flush against him and deepened the kiss. It was pure bliss, like a sweet reunion my body had been craving.

We spent several minutes like that, lying on my hard living room floor with magazines beneath us, before he pulled away and ran a hand over my hair.

“You could put a picture of me on your vision board,” he whispered against my ear.

I laughed and shoved at him, rolling away and standing up.

He stood, too, eyes dancing. “Consider this your warning to knock that wall down. I don’t want to have to keep wrestling you.” He bent and scooped up the magazine with the cake recipe he’d liked. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking this home with me.”

“Fine. But the extra cinnamon rolls stay.”

I walked him to the door, smiling the entire way. When I returned to the living room and surveyed the mess we’d left behind, I shook my head and allowed the happy feeling to flow through me. I couldn’t promise the wall would stay down, but I could promise to leave a doorway open.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I was awakened Christmas morning by texts chiming on my phone. I smiled to myself, keeping my eyes closed as I reached to my nightstand and picked up the phone. I already knew that it would be my sisters, and this was the very reason that one night a year I slept with my phone in my room. One of the few traditions I remembered from when our mom was alive was something called “Christmas Gift.” The first person to say the words “Christmas gift” to someone on Christmas morning received an extra present. It was something small like a coloring book and crayons, but we loved sneaking up on each other and trying to be the first to say it. When Mom had passed away, I’d been careful to keep the tradition alive. As a six-year-old it had been hard to find a gift for the winner, and for a few years it had been a toothbrush or some other silly thing. But when we’d gotten older and I’d started working, the gift had been things like movie tickets or new earrings. Now, with Ash living so far away, we resorted to texting each other or calling, and it was less about receiving a gift and more about the reminder of happy times.

I read their texts and sat up, tugging my covers with me and pulling my knees against my chest. My fuzzy pajamas were soft against my chin as I read through their texts.

Ash: Christmas Gift!

Willow: I don’t accept. The moon is still up

Ash: We go by time, and my clock says it’s 6:30, which is within the rules

Willow: Who made these rules?

Me: I did. Someone had to set limits or you two would have stayed up until midnight on Christmas Eve just to be the first to say it

Ash: Probably true

Me: Merry Christmas, Ash. Wish we could see you today

Ash: Miss you two

Willow: Love you Ash. Tell Jake hi

While Christmas had never been my favorite holiday, I could appreciate that it was a time for families, and I allowed myself a rare moment to feel nostalgic about my sisters. Normally I was pragmatic about the fact that Ash was far away. This morning I remembered the years where I did manage to pull off something for Christmas and their happy, surprised faces. It hadn’t been easy to be the adult in the family, but I couldn’t say all of it had been bad.

I gathered up my clothes and padded to the bathroom where I ran a hot shower and got ready for the day. I’d be meeting up with Willow and Dad for a meal and gift exchange. Willow was bringing Steve to meet the family, which really meant me, because he’d already shoveled my dad’s walks. Then again, maybe he hadn’t actually met my dad. Just because we were there taking care of him didn’t always guarantee a sighting of the man.

As I blew my hair dry and straightened it into a slick bob, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that both my sisters had brought men home in the past months. We’d gone from famine to feast in our family. I was proud of both of them for being brave enough to give it a real try. I’d done it once, and, after a year of emotional tug-of-war with one Ron Blanchard, it had been a relief when he’d broken up with me and moved away. Ron had been driven, hard-working, and logical to a fault. In the end our similarities had pushed us apart. We had both needed someone a little less like ourselves.

Brooks’s name popped into my mind, and I couldn’t help but catalog the differences between him and Ron. It was almost laughable how much more easygoing Brooks was, how quick to smile. His sunny personality should have clashed with my more pessimistic nature, but the man was managing to get under my skin in a way Ron had only hoped to. Actually I still wasn’t sure Ron really wanted to. We were more like two power people fighting for domination. It made me realize that Brooks might actually be the strongest one of all, in that he didn’t need to fight to prove anything, and there was something truly powerful in that.

We’d kissed two times now, so we were probably starting to be something, maybe. Sort of. I didn’t go around kissing people, and I doubted he did either, but I also knew a few kisses didn’t automatically launch you into a place that was clearly labeled. So, maybe we were nothing more than flirty neighbors. That idea had me wrinkling my nose in distaste.

Ugh. Before I could think better of it, I texted him.

Me: Merry Christmas

---