Page 35 of Savoring Christmas
Just then, a streak of orange fur darted across the room. Cannoli, perhaps sensing the enemy, raised her head, then rose to her feet, pressing against Mia.
“Was that Matilda?” Mia asked.
“Yes, the devil has arrived,” Logan said.
A second later, the streak of orange doubled back, skidding to a halt between the couch and chair, glaring at them with the smug posture of a queen inspecting her kingdom. Matilda’s tail swished like a warning flag, her golden eyes fixed on Cannoli. Cannoli froze, ears flattening, her body sinking low to the couch cushion next to Mia. The tiny dog gave a faint, uncertain chirp—more apology than challenge—then slunk halfway behind Mia’s arm. Matilda blinked once, slow and deliberate, before sauntering off with an air of regal disdain.
Cannoli whimpered, burying her face into Mia’s lap.
Both Logan and Mia laughed. “It’s okay, girl,” Logan said. “We won’t let the scary cat hurt you.”
“She’s the biggest chicken ever,” Mia said, still giggling.
“Matilda’s a bully,” Logan said. “But as long as Cannoli keeps her distance, it should be fine.” He hoped so anyway.
Mia reached out to run her fingers against his strong jawline. “I’m really glad you lost that bet.”
They kissed over the cowering dog in the glow of the firelight.
“Come along with me. I’ll show you to your room,” Logan said, reluctantly. He’d stay here all night kissing her if he could but he could see how weary she was. “We have a big day tomorrow.”
Logan stood, holding out his hand to help her to her feet. Cannoli jumped from the couch to follow them obediently toward the stairs. When they reached the second floor landing,a flash of ginger fur suddenly materialized. Matilda planted herself in the middle of the hallway like a gatekeeper, her tail lashing in slow, menacing arcs.
The hiss came first—low and theatrical—followed by a glare sharp enough to strip paint. Cannoli froze, then let out a tiny squeak before launching herself into Mia’s arms with the desperation of someone fleeing certain doom. Mia staggered a step, hugging the trembling bundle of fur to her chest.
Matilda, apparently satisfied her point had been made, turned and strutted away with the smug air of a landlord who had just reminded a tenant who was really in charge.
“I told you she’s the devil,” Logan said. “The only reason she lets me live is that she can’t get to the food without me.”
Cannoli, still in her mistress’s arms, whined. Logan reached out to pat her head. “It’s okay, I won’t let her hurt you for real.”
Cannoli licked his hand.
Logan gestured toward the open door at the end of the hallway. “There’s the guest room. Do you want one of my T-shirts to sleep in?”
“Thanks. But you may not get it back.”
“Thinking of you in my shirt makes my head spin a little.” He kissed her quickly before heading to his room, where he grabbed a soft navy tee and a flannel shirt, then hurried back to her. She was already inside the room, perched on the side of the bed. For a moment, he watched from the doorway, just taking in how beautiful she was.
She glanced up at him. “This is a nice bed.”
You can sleep in it anytime.
Instead of saying what he was thinking, he placed the shirts on the bed next to her, then leaned down to give her one last quick kiss. “The guest room stays warm, but, just in case, I brought you a flannel too.
She pulled him in for another kiss before letting him go. “Good night. Thanks for taking care of Cannoli and me. Sleep well.”
“Shall I expect breakfast in the morning?” Logan asked, teasing as he headed for the door.
“As a matter of fact, you can. I’m dying to break in your kitchen.”
“You won’t get an argument from me,” Logan said.
She blew him another kiss before he closed the door behind him. For a moment, he stood in the hallway, his heart beating fast. This was the woman he’d been waiting all his life for. He felt more certain of it than ever before. He only hoped she felt the same way about him.
The smellof coffee reached Logan before he was fully awake, warm and rich, drifting down the hallway. Still half asleep, he couldn’t figure out the who or why of this great aroma filling his senses. Then he remembered. Mia was here. Cooking him breakfast. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, listening to the faint clatter of pans from the kitchen. In his sweats and a T-shirt, for a moment he considered showering and dressing before going downstairs. But he decided against it. He was too eager to see her to waste another moment.
