Page 49 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
She was falling for Jonah.
She couldn’t fall for Jonah. It wasn’t—practical. She needed to prevent the walls protecting her heart from completely shattering. She needed to keep herself safe and Jonah at arm’s length. Jonah wanted something she couldn’t give him, and look how that had turned out with Brad.
Still. One kiss from Jonah and she’d felt more than any of Brad’s hundreds of kisses had ever made her feel. She should tell Lexi more than the quick update she’d just texted her, but she didn’t want her friend worrying about her in another relationship after what felt like minutes since Bronte had found out about Brad’s engagement.
Was that all this was? Was she trying to make herself feel better because Brad had already picked someone new?
Lexi
So let me get this straight. You slipped, hit your head, and Jonah came to your rescue? You’re an idiot, but a genius romantic idiot.
Bronte
Only you would think slipping and falling to be romantic. I hit my head really hard. I could be dying.
Lexi
Oh, right. Are you ok?
Bronte rolled her eyes, and then promptly winced at the pain shooting through her head.
Bronte
I’m fine, Lex.
Fine, if not a little confused. Had she really kissed Jonah last night?
Her lips still tingled, and she bit down on them to keep from smiling.
Bronte dropped her phone on the side table and stretched her arms over her head. The last thing she remembered from the night before was Jonah insisting they needed to watch an old Claymation movie with Rudolph and Frosty. They must have fallen asleep during the movie. Jonah was still asleep on the wingback, his Santa-socked feet propped on the coffee table, and his neck at a weird angle that made Bronte wince. That was going to hurt later.
Gingerly, Bronte felt the knot on her forehead. Still tender, but at least a little smaller. Scooting off the couch, she grabbed the quilt she’d been using and draped it over Jonah.
She tiptoed to the kitchen, shook two ibuprofen from the bottle, and popped them in her mouth, swallowing them dry before putting the kettle on the stove. A strong cup of tea and her laptop were what she needed. Even if what she wanted to do was curl up on the couch and go back to sleep.
Waiting for the kettle to sing, Bronte thought back to the night before. About the kiss she could still feel. She had to be crazy to be thinking about kissing Jonah. She had sworn off relationships after Brad. She was broken goods, and she’d do well to remember she was better on her own. Even if she felt different around Jonah. Felt like he actually cared. Had she felt like that when she and Brad first met? She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t think so.
Her phone pinged with another incoming text from Lexi. Seeing that it started with “How is your book…” Bronte set her phone to ignore all notifications before laying it face down on the countertop.
Lexi didn’t need to know how dismal her word count still was. That would just bring up questions of what she had been doing instead of writing and who she had been spending all her time with. Which would ultimately turn into Lexi telling Bronte to forget about the fun she told her to have and to just write her book.
Bronte gazed at Jonah, sleeping on the wingback chair. He looked so peaceful, hands folded across his chest. Like an old man who had fallen asleep watching the nightly news. Bronte bit back a smile before turning back to the kettle that just started to boil. She hadjusttold herself she was better on her own, and here she was ogling Jonah. Again.
Tea made, she slid in front of her laptop, which was still sitting at the table where she’d left it the day before she and Jonah had walked to town. She’d had every intention of coming back and working, but instead, she and Jonah had stayed up all night nursing her headache with eggnog, popcorn, and old Christmas movies.
Heaving in a deep breath, she toggled her mouse to the Pike Family Saga document on her laptop. Today was a new day, and she would get a massive amount of words written—hopefully on the correct book this time.
It was amazing how hard it was to get words on the page when one had a splitting headache. Anytime she thought about the plot of the Pike Family Saga and tried to add more romance into it, another pulse would shoot through her skull. So she did what any normal person trying to get a book written would do. She worked on the project that made her happy and didn’t make her head feel worse.
Three hours in and she had added almost five thousand words on the wrong project. She still found it ridiculous she was writing a rom-com. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d written this much in a small amount of time. Her fingers flying over the keyboard brought a smile to her lips. She loved it when a story flowed like this.
“How’s it going?”
Bronte squealed.
Jonah appeared next to her, hair wet from a shower, the scent of his soap filling her senses. “I’m so sorry. I thought you saw me!” he apologized, hands up in defense.
“When did you even get up from the couch?” Bronte choked out, her hands on either side of her computer on the kitchen table, grounding her. “I didn’t even see you leave the living room.”
