Page 86 of Stay this Christmas
“I’d love to have lunch sometime!”
Her enthusiasm relieved my fears I’d come across too needy or strange.
“Sorry, that came out a little much. I’d like that, though. Hanging out with my grandma and her friends is great, but I kind of need to be around people my own age again.”
“So do I.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, I got out of Sam’s car in my driveway, my feet aching with every step. We’d danced to way too many songs at Fool Hearted Memory, and the best I could say was I hadn’t broken anybody’s toes. But it’d been fun, despite my fears of embarrassing myself in a public place.
And no chance I hadn’t embarrassed myself. Between my missteps on the dance floor and kissing Sam in the middle of a crowd, I’d gone all-in on making a public spectacle of myself. But I’d enjoyed myself, too, and needed to focus on that as the bigger takeaway.
Sam walked me to my door, but I grabbed his arm to stop him halfway up the path.
“Wait.”
I paused to admire the glowing white tree in my front window, the multi-colored lights along the house’s eaves, and the evergreen wreath on the door. Slipping my hand into his, we stood there a full minute in silence, just appreciating the view. Nights like this, I really wished I lived someplace that got snow in December. I didn’t need it all winter, but a nice flurry around Christmas would be perfect. Just a few flakes to fully set the scene.
“Thanks for going tonight.” I kept my voice low as though my holiday-bedecked house were worthy of reverence.
“Thanks for the dance.”
I turned to him, and his hands found my waist at the same time mine went to his shoulders. He swayed us slowly back and forth, tiny movements in the stillness.
“You’re a surprisingly good dancer.”
He made a sound of mock indignation. “Surprisingly? I’m graceful as hell.”
I laughed as he tugged me closer. “I admit it. It’s probably all that yoga.”
“Yoga helps with so many things.”
His voice came out a low purr, stirring my insides like stoking a fire. I made an embarrassing sound in my throat, a half-sigh, half-moan. He tightened his grip on my waist, his hands an inferno against the thin fabric of my button-down.
“Like what?” I breathed out, blatantly provoking him.
The heat in his eyes singed. I should have burnt up on the spot, leaving nothing but a curl of smoke behind. Thank goodness he held me so close or I might have swooned, too. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of all-consuming longing.
“Relaxation,” he said, his voice low and deep. “Flexibility. Stamina.”
Nope, not prepared at all.
“You’re making this difficult.”
His lips quirked up. “I really am.”
No denying now I wanted more than just friendship with him, not after what we’d confessed tonight. But I also knew I wasn’t ready for more. Maybe physically, but emotionally, my heart was still a big junk drawer, everything tangled in messy layers. I couldn’t tell if the time we spent together helped me sort through it or only made everything more confusing.
I hugged him closer, sliding my nose against the skin of his neck, breathing him in. He pressed a kiss to my temple, and we held each other a moment. Sighing against him, I tried to prepare myself for our eventual goodnight.
Keep the goodnight kiss PG-13.
Do not make that sighing, strangled sound again.
No inviting him in.
Leaning back, he smiled at me in the semi-darkness. “Your thoughts are deafening.”
