Page 33 of Stay this Christmas
I hadn’t gone there for the gossip, but I didn’t mind that she’d handed it out for free.
Anyway, she proved a far more reliable source than the person I’d overheard once at Homegrown claiming Sam had joined the literal circus. Not that I’d put anything past him, but contortionist? He’d much more likely be the trapeze artist. Especially with those arms…
No. Snap out of it.
“What were your other reasons for coming back?” Way to beat that horse, Harper. “You’ve never really said.”
His brow furrowed, the tiniest dip pulling in the center. “What, people don’t move back to Magnolia Ridge because they want to?”
“Maybe. Probably. I’m just trying to understand why you would—”
Leave. Even my tipsy brain understood the real question I wanted answered. The mystery of his return might make a whole lot more sense if I could just wrap my head around what had taken him away in the first place.
He leaned closer, a subtle shift of his body, a tilt of his head, but I felt it as though he’d pulled his arms around me. His hand brushed against mine still fiddling with the coaster, his fingers lightly grazing my skin. That minuscule touch sent bottle rockets off in my chest, their sparks growing bigger like they needed to take up all the available space in my ribcage.
The noise of the bar crowd seemed to thin, my attention riveted to his eyes. His mouth. His lips.
“I realized that what I’d gained by traveling to new places didn’t compare to what I’d left back home.”
I stared at him, my half-drunk mind wanting answers to more questions I couldn’t ask. Hard-hitting questions likeWhat?andWho?. But my dad had always told us not to ask questions unless we were sure we could handle the answers.
Typically, that referred to gross technical questions about his large-animal veterinary practice, but the principle still applied.
One side of Sam’s mouth curved, and that hint of mirth made me realize just how horrifyingly obvious I was being. Straightening up, I tried to shake myself out of the Sam-induced fog. Probably it was the bourbon messing with my thoughts, making me do ridiculous things like stare at his lips, wondering how they would taste. Wondering if he still kissed the way he used to, or had he gotten even better at that, too.
Nope, I couldn’t sit here any longer, my heart roller-coastering around and my body practically sweltering from the sudden blast of heat scorching me.
“I should probably get back to the others.”
Right. Because going back to the couple’s table would definitely take my mind off of kissing. I could hope.
I searched through my hemp bucket bag, but the ten-dollar bill I’d had at the ready had vanished. Pulling out receipts and slips of paper like a magician with her never-ending scarf trick, I came up empty.
“I’ve got your drink,” Sam said while I emptied my purse on the bar in front of us.
“I can get it.” Buying my drink was a tiny step short of a date, and we’d already had one fake-date at Bella Italia. Where he’d also picked up the tab, by the way. We didn’t need to slip further down this slippery slope.
“What’s this?”
“Hmm?” I looked up from the mayhem of my purse in time to see him slide the New-Me list closer to him. An avalanche of embarrassment crashed through me for every last item Eliza had written down. That list said way too much about my life.
Snatching it out of his hands, I crumpled it in my fist. “It’s nothing.”
He stilled, his eyes wide like I’d just leapt onto the bar and shimmied around for everyone to see.
Raising his hands, he drew back, giving me as much space as he could. “I didn’t mean to cross a line.”
I exhaled, coming back to my senses. Okay, yes. My knee-jerk, crazy-lady reaction had been completely out of left field, and probably no less embarrassing than the list itself. Guilt pinched at me for how hard I’d been trying to ice him out since he first arrived back in Magnolia Ridge. He hadn’t done anything to deserve my snippy attitude. Even after his apology, my behavior hadn’t been the best. What did I want, eleven years of penitence?
Sighing heavily, I slipped the paper back over to him. “It’s a list of things to do before my birthday.”
He hesitated a second, then flattened the paper out on the bar top. His eyes drifted over it as he read, his face moving from a solemn seriousness to appreciation, finally switching into something I’d describe as impressed. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, considering how basic most of the things on the list must have been to him, but I liked looking at his impressed-face.
Probably shouldnotlook at his impressed-face, given my current penchant for moony stares.
“This is a lot to do before the twenty-sixth.”
A weird curl of warmth spun through me that he’d remembered my birthday. A small thing, really, but that didn’t stop the little buzz of pleasure.
