Page 60 of The Hanukkah Hoax
He tucked her against his chest and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have startled you that way, even if you do look cute when you’re flustered.”
“Oh, you most certainly should have startled me that way,” she said, wrapping her arm around his rib cage and smiling against the warmth of his bare chest. “But I feel selfish thinking about . . . us. What we just did and all.”
“Hmm.” Alec didn’t offer up any more than that, and Marisa had no idea what to make of it.
“Was that hmm a we really should have set ground rules hmm or was it a ‘tis the season for being selfish hmm?”
He squeezed her a bit more tightly, twirling a clump of her hair around his fingers, and she let her ping-ponging nerves relax into his welcoming weight. “It was a hmm I wonder what your skin would look like in the Argentine sun and whether Brennan would have my balls if I tried to negotiate more administrative duties into the offer, ones that would keep me working remotely from the States more often hmm.”
Marisa’s head shot up. “What?”
“You got me thinking about choices and how the right one for the moment doesn’t always need to be the best one.” Alec looked away from her, seeming to lose focus in the hair behind her ear. “You’re right. The Argentina coaching contract is likely the right offer for me right now, but not if it takes me away from you for eight months out of the year.”
“Wh-what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m not ready to give up rugby yet, but I’m not ready to give you up either. There are assistant coaching positions that, while still having plenty of on-field training time that one does need to be present for, also deal with lots of administrivia—tour management, budgets, player recruitment, stuff like that. Less glamorous, for sure, but just as crucial and, in my mind, all work that can be done remotely at times from, let’s say, the tri-state area.”
The jerk winked at her, as if he hadn’t just told her he would amend a major competitive sports contract with beaucoup bucks on the line so he could essentially work from home. Her home.
Well, her home turf, at any rate.
“Now, I don’t want to get either of our hopes up. Coaching of any kind would still require a heavy on-pitch presence for the majority of the season, but I’m optimistic that Argentina will be inclined to bend on some terms if it means they’ll still get me joining the coaching team. Besides, as an assistant coach, they wouldn’t have to pay me as much. All they’d have to concede to is more travel compensation on my part, since I’d be splitting my time between here, Argentina, and wherever the touring circuit takes the team.”
Marisa lay on top of him, feeling the beat of his racing heart arcing through her fingers. A reserved sense of hope sat expectantly in his gaze—a gaze that never wavered from her face, even when it clearly cost him to push out the words that would put an end to his playing career, at least for now. It was a temporary choice made with a not-so-temporary feel to it.
But she could tell he was still nervous. The unease was there, written all over his wide brow and thinned lips. Yet his hands were warm and solid against her back, rubbing into her the reassurance he seemed to need more than she did that his decision was the right one.
“You’re my choice, Marisa,” he said, the force of his words stunning her for all the conviction they held that his earlier ones hadn’t. “Not a fake girlfriend or a relationship born out of convenience. You’re my choice. The right one and the best one, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes if you’ll have me, if you’ll accept that when I’m away from you, it’s only because I’ve not yet worked out all the roads I need to take to stay by your side. But I will. I promise I will.”
“You want this? Want me? For real?”
“No. I need you. For real. I’m through pretending.” Then he brushed his thumb down the curve of her jaw and swiped it over her bottom lip, pulling free the dopey-ass smile she couldn’t contain any longer. “Though I can’t say I was really pretending much of anything to begin with.”
“Oh, Alec. We can make it work. Whatever it takes, we can make it work.” She didn’t even give him the chance to respond. Her mouth was on his, seeking out his signs of happiness. Not to brag or anything, but she’d kind of gotten pretty good at deciphering them.
“Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me?” he asked in between taking slow sips from her mouth.
“Something I wanted . . . Oh! Yes!” Marisa scrambled off the bed, stealing all the covers with her and leaving a prone Alec and his chilled nipples shocked to the point of delightful worry.
“It’s fucking freezing, woman! Get back here!” He lunged for her, but she danced just out of reach.
“No, hear me out!” Marisa finished tucking the sheets around her breasts and ensured everything stayed in place with a little shimmy-shake of her hips so she could call on both hands to aid her in explaining her hairbrained idea. Then she smiled her biggest high school musical opening night smile and swept her hands across the air in front of her in one long, slow pull. “Fudge.”
Alec blinked. “You want . . . fudge? Now?”
“No, you gorgeously obtuse man. I’m going to replace the original concept I had for the Jamaican gingerbread with a gingerbread fudge.”
“Have you found a new supplier? What’s changed?”
“Nothing. But I think I’ve figured out a way to deliver on expectations and give people something exciting that I know they’ll adore. Something coated in the flavors of the holiday but adorned with something completely irresistible and delicious.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
It was late in the afternoon when Alec finally left Marisa, aided by Eden and the unlawful trio, to her candy making with the promise to return later with dinner for everyone.
He had an errand to run, one that would be rather unpleasant, but if all went well, it might ease some of the pathways ahead of him. And he needed as much smooth sailing as possible.
