Page 82 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
“Hard to miss,” I tell her, unable to resist her enthusiasm.
“They’re showing off for you,” she declares with absolute certainty.“Uncle A.said you were special.”
My eyes snap to Adam’s face, catching the slight flush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with his fake Santa beard.
“Did he now?”
“Uh-huh.He said to Dad the other night that you make the best Christmas pickles.”
The image of my alien phallus pickle in its festive hat pops into my mind, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I think that’s enough, Megs,” Adam says, ruffling her hair.
“But you did!You said she was pretty and in—in—intelligent and your uni…corn?And that you wanted to—”
“Hot chocolate time,” Wes cuts in, giving his daughter a meaningful look.
My face warms, but as Wes leads Megan away, my thoughts drift to Frank and his comments.I lean toward Adam.“So, Frank mentioned Faye again,” I say, watching his expression.“Your ex.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his eyes remain steady.“I told you.If you want to ask questions, I’ll answer.”
“I don’t want to be in the middle.Or...I don’t want you to think you need to stick around because we’re sharing a room.Maybe she’s the one.”
“Just so we’re clear.I’m not sticking around because we’re sharing a room.Not even because I’ve been hard for weeks every time I smell vanilla.Because it makes me think of you.Do you know how much vanilla there is during the holiday season?I want to be with you.”
“Oh...okay.”
“Faye and I are over.Really over.We dated for almost two years before I got over...well, a lot of things.I should have given myself more time.She thought it was serious.I thought it was, too.But… I stayed with her for all the wrong reasons.”The way he looks at me makes it clear what he means.“And when I was given an out, I took it.She was passionate about her work, organized community outreach programs.”
“You loved her?”The question slips out.
He considers this.“I thought I did.”He rubs the back of his neck.“But when she got that outreach job and I told her I couldn’t leave, she said she didn’t even know the real me.Said I was so busy being Dr.Harrison, solving everyone’s problems, that I never let her see past that.”He laughs without humor.“The worst part?She was right.I even tried to fix her when she didn’t need fixing.I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told anyone what I actually wanted, what I was afraid of.”
He leans closer.“I’ve been with women I cared about.But I’ve never felt this pull.You know how emperor penguins find their mates among thousands of identical birds by the sound of their call?That’s what this feels like.I still know your voice, after all this time.”
My heart stutters as my fingers trace the scar beneath my collarbone.“You would have tried to fix me, too,” I whisper.
“Back then?Absolutely.”His eyes hold mine.“I’d have tried to be your doctor instead of your partner.But now?I’d move the earth to stand beside you.I wouldn’t try to fix everything.I’d listen.I’d feel with you, even when feeling means feeling powerless.”His thumb finds my pulse.“We’d find ways to climb out of the dark together.”
His lips quirk into his crooked smile.“And we’d argue, too.We’d disagree.But we’d do it honestly, not with me swallowing what I think to keep the peace.That’s the difference, actually being in it together, messy parts and all.”He clears his throat.“And I’d make mistakes, too.Shit.The thought of you hurting has me wanting to punch the wind.But the thought of not being there for you?It wrecks me.”
His raw honesty steals my breath, each word settling into me like a physical touch.
Before I can respond without resorting to medical terminology for attraction, Sally calls out.“Coats in the closet, dears!Hot cider for the carolers!”
The closet we enter is barely large enough for one person, let alone two adults with a one-night rule hanging by a thread
I reach up to hang my elf hat, my sweater riding up.
“Allow me,” Adam murmurs, his chest pressing against my back as he takes the hat.The full length of him aligns with me.Solid, warm, undeniably aroused.
“Adam,” I murmur, leaning back into him.His hand settles on my hip, fingers splaying possessively across my lower abdomen.
“I’m developing a new appreciation for elves,” he says, his thumb tracing circles above my hip bone.
A laugh bubbles up, transforming into a gasp as his other hand slides around my waist.I turn within the circle of his arms, my back against the wall.
“I think my one-night rule needs a second opinion,” I whisper, hands fisting in his sweater.“All my vital signs suggest I made a diagnostic error.”
