Page 55 of Stolen Holidays
Did Eli just lie to me?
No, he would never lie to me. Eli is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.
He would lie to protect you, wouldn’the?
My stomach roils, and the bile burns my throat, coating the back of my tongue in acid. I push the nauseous thought away.
Warm little fingers envelop my hand. “Miss Callie?”
I look down at Rhys, and my insides melt at his sweet smile and big golden-brown eyes. I swear, this little guy has captured a piece of my heart. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Can we practiceChristmas Tree Farmagain?” I’ve been teaching Rhys this song for the past week so we can perform it after dinner tonight. We agreed: I sing, and he plays.
“Of course we can. You go get your guitar, and I’ll go grab mine.”
“I’ve got it.” Eli kisses my cheek, and I watch him as he sets off towards our cabin. The forest-green sweater he’s wearing stretches tight over his broad shoulders, and his dark-washed jeans mold to his backside perfectly.
The icky feeling of him lying to me endeavors to seep back into my brain. Thankfully, Rhys is the perfect distraction. When he returns from getting his guitar, and I have mine, we spend the afternoon reviewing the chord progressions and strumming until our fingers are numb and it’s time for dinner.
Christmas Eve is a big deal to the Millers. Dinner, cocktails, dessert, games, and one holiday present before bed, which, according to Eli, is the same every year. Christmas pajamas for the entire family. His mom, Karen, custom orders each member of the family a new set, and before the night is over, they all take a picture in front of the tree to commemorate the night’s festivities.
I’m really looking forward to being part of their tradition. Or at least, I’m really hoping to be.
I swipe one more coat of mascara over my lashes and look in the mirror. I can’t help grinning at myself like a loon. Did I mention that Rylann’s family tradition is wearing ugly Christmas sweaters? I’ve never worn one before, and I have to say I’m a huge fan. Ten out of ten, I recommend this tradition.
For tonight’s dinner, I’m rocking a cream cable-knit sweater with fuzzy reindeer wearing Santa hats all over, light blue jeans, and tan suede boots.
I love how this family incorporates pieces of everyone’s family traditions into the mix. Eli asked if I wanted to add anything, but I didn’t. Growing up, my parents kept it simple. Dinners, gifts, carols, and being together. Warmth spreads through my chest. Being here with Eli and his family is restoring the pain of being alone for years and giving me new holiday traditions.
I swing open the door to find Eli on the other side, his hand raised to knock. The color in his eyes darkens like the stormy sea as he inhales sharply. Silence falls between us for a few long seconds.
“That good, huh?” I ask, arms out wide as I twirl from side to side, giving Eli a delightful view of my butt in my tight jeans.
“Better than good.” His voice is rough as his hungry gaze consumes me from head to toe. “Sexy as fuck.”
“Who knew reindeer heads did it for you? Or is it the jeans?” I tease with a chuckle.
His mismatched eyes flicker with fire as he grips the nape of my neck and draws me in, tilting my chin up with his thumb. “No. It’s you. Your tender heart. Your kind soul. Your courage and strength to survive. The way you radiate joy. How you make everyone you meet feel special. How your lips slowly curl up when you smile and your eyes sparkle, taking my breath away. Every single thing about you does it for me. You make me want to be a better man. One worthy of you.”
For years, I dreamed of being with Eli. I wondered what it would be like to be the person he came home to at the end of each day. To be loved by him. All my fantasies pale in comparison to the real thing.
I place my hands on his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart beating beneath my fingers. “You are so, so worthy, Elijiah Miller. You are a good man. You’re loyal. You love your family with all your heart. You protect the people you care about—me,your brothers, your parents, your nephew, your friends, your clients. Everyone. I’m stronger because of you and the way you love me.”
Eli holds me tighter. “Princess. I—”
“You what?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head like he’s not sure how to finish his thought, and it has me curious. And worried.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I just love you so much. I hope you know that,” he rasps out.
My brain niggles again, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something. I push the negative thoughts away and remind myself that Eli is good, and he loves me, so there is no reason to doubt him.
Gripping his sweater in my fists, I reach onto my tiptoes and brush my lips along his. “I know. And I love you too, Eli.” Then I deepen the kiss, pouring every ounce of my love for him into it.
Our lips and tongues meet in a sensual dance only we know. I lose myself in the kiss and sink a little deeper into him, into the hard planes of his body that mold perfectly to the soft curves of mine.
