Page 46 of Christmas Is All Around
“Not a cuddler?”
She wasn’t, actually, but didn’t want to tell him that, because she didn’t want him to move—not yet, at least. “There’s no way two of us can sleep in this tiny bed,” she said instead. “So… just don’t fall asleep here.” This was, in her own way, an invitation—and perhaps he realized that, because he didn’t move.
Silence fell, comfortable and sleepy, and Charlotte could feel her body growing heavy and warm. “This is nice,” she said, so quiet that she wasn’t sure she wanted him to hear.
“It is,” he said, his arm tightening around her waist. “I’d… forgotten.” He was silent for long enough that she didn’t think he was going to speak again, but then, finally, quietly, he said, “Since I broke up with my ex—before that, even—I think I’ve been a bit… lonely. And no one I’ve slept with since then has changed that.” She held her breath, waiting. “Until now.”
His body was warm and comforting against hers, and she reached up slowly, not thinking about it too hard, and laced her fingers through his. Silence fell between them again, their slow breaths the only sound in the quiet of the room, and their interlaced fingers felt like a promise, though she didn’t know what they were promising.
And, lying in the darkness with his arm around her—and even after he placed a last, lingering kiss on her neck and retreated to his own narrow bed—she realized that here, in this room with him, was the least lonely that she’d felt in a long, long time.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning, Charlotte was awoken by the sound of… carolers?
“What the fuck?” she mumbled, summoning enough strength to tug the extra pillow that she’d apparently been spooning over her head.
“Good morning,” said a deep, amused voice, and Charlotte suddenly went still. Nestled in her cozy little twin bed, she’d forgotten where she was and, more important,whoshe was with. She lifted the pillow to find Graham fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes, sipping a mug of tea and reading a newspaper.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked indignantly, tossing aside her insufficiently noise-stifling pillow and sitting up. She tugged the duvet up to her chin, shivering slightly as the cooler air of the room hit her bare skin.
“A while,” he said, glancing up at her and taking a sip of his tea. “I was going to wake you in a bit.”
“What time is it?” she demanded, reaching for her phone on the bedside table. It was hard to gauge how much daylight there was with the thick curtains drawn. Had she overslept horribly? Had she slipped into some sort of sex coma?
It was… 7:22.
She groaned and slumped back against the pillows.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled. “This is inhumane. It’s stilldarkoutside. Why on earth are people caroling before sunrise?”
“To be fair,” he said, setting down his newspaper, “?‘before sunrise’ is a relative statement, this time of year.”
“It’s not!” she protested. “This isn’t Iceland! The sun comes up at eight! I don’t think asking people to hold off on caroling until at leasteightis unreasonable!”
“Well, I met our intrepid carolers when I went downstairs to see about tea,” he said. “And I don’t think you would have much luck telling these people that there are appropriate times for caroling.”
“Ideally never,” she clarified. “Neverwould be my preferred time for caroling.”
“I wouldn’t recommend telling them that, either,” he said, a devilish grin flickering across his face.
“Why do you look so happy?” she asked suspiciously. “I don’t like it.”
“Get dressed,” he said cheerfully. “Breakfast starts at eight, and you’ll find out for yourself.”
“I liked you better before I learned you were a morning person,” she informed him coldly as she pushed the covers back and prepared to race for the bathroom. Gratifyingly, his eyes went a bit glazed at the sight of all the bare skin she’d just revealed. She would have taken a moment to revel in this, but it was cold, and she didn’t want to delay getting warm for even a second longer.
By the time she’d made it to the bathroom door, however, he’d recovered sufficiently to toss a would-be casual reply at her back:
“You seemed to like me fine last night.”
Charlotte shut the bathroom door firmly behind her in lieu of a comeback—because honestly, it wasn’t like she could argue withthat.
There were so, so many carolers.
“No wonder there was only one room left,” Charlotte hissed to Graham as they walked into the breakfast room downstairs half an hour later. Despite the fact that breakfast officially began being served at eight, and it was currently 8:03, the room was already buzzing, nearly every table filled. Admittedly, this was a bit relative—there were only six tables total—but each table had three to four carolers seated at it, all looking positively delighted to be sitting down to breakfast at a wholesome country inn on a chilly December morning.
But they weren’t just carolers (which would be bad enough)—no, these were carolers inperiod costumes. There were shawls. There were top hats. There werebonnets.
