Page 62 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
Wes chuckles.“Yes, Lovey, you’re going.How about you, Eve?”
"Me?I, ugh, I really have to get back to work,” I squeak.
“I’ll see you later?”Adam murmurs.
I nod, handing him LoverBoy, Dorothy and Blanche's leashes and my traitorous body leans toward him like I'm about to kiss him goodbye.Like we're a couple.Like last night wasn't just mind-blowing sex.Pivot.Reverse the lean, Eve.I back up too quickly and trip over the leashes."Shit—shoot—crap!"I yelp as Adam catches me.And the little girl giggles.
"Got you," Adam rasps.
“Um, thank you.For this… and the dogs… and...Yep.Thanks.Because dogs, food, work.”
“Of course.”He takes my dogs back.And when he smiles again, it’s in the slow, quiet, ruinous way of a man who is tucking this entire moment into his pocket to pull out later, not in a Chuck-You-Suck way, more in a You’re-So-Cute way.
And I’m not cute.Or adorable.Or sweet.
I’m efficient.Dependable.Cold.I didn't even cry during my last scare.Or when I found Chuck with Jennie.Or when I moved out.
"It was nice meeting you," I murmur to the kid, Noelle, Wes, to the room.To no one in particular as I hurry out of there.
His smile lingers on my skin longer than it should.I should be focusing on paperwork or professionalism or...anything other than the way his hands looked holding my dogs like they were precious.
I need air.And food.And distance.
Cuban sandwich.Park bench.Sanity.
The crisp bread, the smoky ham, the tang of pickles, it melts in your mouth, warming you from the inside out.The kind of meal that demands to be eaten without overthinking anything.
Which is exactly what I need right now.
I sit on a Christmas-bow decorated bench in the park reading about Catharina beating Dante at a F1 game, laughing like she’s never laughed in her life, before realizing she showed a mafia boss off.
It’s ten to one by the time I get back to the clinic and there’s a line in the hallway.Liz catches my eye and whispers, "Some of them just want to see you."
Great.
Chapter nineteen
EVE
Afewdayslater,after another grueling shift and walking the dogs, I get back to the B&B, thinking I should really get more decaf coffee, when I stop in my track…
There’s a coffee tower on the counter, like a ridiculous altar to comfort and remembering the little things.A note on top reads: “Can’t wait to hear all about your favorite kind.”
I don’t cry.But I do text the girls.
Julie
That’s foreplay, right?In my book, that’s foreplay.
Harper
In your life it’s foreplay.While in mine, your brother…
Julie
Someone stop her.
Poppy
