Page 17 of Christmas With My Mountain Man Landlord
"Right." I step back, creating necessary distance. "And I have reports to review."
"Of course." She tucks a stray curl behind her ear. "Thank you for dinner. Well, for the ingredients. I just cooked them."
"It was good." The words feel inadequate. "Thank you."
She lingers a moment longer, as if waiting for something else, then nods and turns away. I watch her go, unable to look away from the gentle sway of her hips, the graceful line of her neck where her hair is coming loose from its knot.
When she disappears upstairs, I release a deep breath. This attraction, this connection, is not what I expected or wanted. Kelsie Walsh is sunshine personified, all creative energy and optimism. The opposite of everything I've carefully cultivated in my life. Routine. Order. Emotional distance.
Yet I’m drawn to her in a way that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, simultaneously afraid of falling and curious about the sensation of freefall.
My phone buzzes with a text from Savannah.
Savannah:Picking up Kelsie at 6 tomorrow for tree lighting. You're welcome to join us.
Again,the annual invitation I always decline. The hope I always disappoint.
Me: Working,I reply automatically.
Savannah:You're always working, Dad. Maybe this year could be different?
I stare at her message,thinking about Kelsie's excitement about experiencing a small town Christmas. About how she looked in my kitchen, bringing warmth and life to a space that's been cold for sixteen years.
Before I can overthink it, I respond.
Me: Maybe. No promises.
Savannah's response is immediate.
Savannah:!!!!!
I set the phone down,wondering what I'm getting myself into. One tree lighting ceremony won't erase sixteen years of avoidance. Won't change the fact that Christmas still feels like an open wound rather than a celebration.
But maybe, just maybe, seeing it through Kelsie's eyes might offer a different perspective. A chance to create new associations, new memories.
Or maybe I'm just looking for excuses to spend more time with a woman who makes me feel things I thought were long buried. Either way, I've opened a door I've kept firmly shut for years. The thought doesn’t terrify me as much a I thought it would. Instead, beneath the anxiety, there’s something that might almost be anticipation.
CHAPTER SIX
KELSIE
"Hold still," Savannah orders, wielding an eyeliner pencil with terrifying precision. "Unless you want to look like a raccoon at the tree lighting."
I try not to flinch as she applies makeup with practiced strokes. When she offered to help me get ready for tonight's festivities, I didn't expect a full beauty makeover in Tom's guest bathroom.
"Is all this really necessary?" I ask as she steps back to evaluate her work. "It's just a small town tree lighting."
"It's the Whisper Vale tree lighting," Savannah corrects, reaching for a tube of mascara. "Everyone goes all out. Plus, the temperature dropped again, so looking cute while bundled up is an art form."
I don't mention that my real concern isn't the town's judgment but one particular sheriff's opinion. Tom and I shared another quiet breakfast this morning, the air again charged with something neither of us acknowledged. When our hands brushed passing the coffee pot, he didn't immediately pull away. Progress, perhaps.
"There." Savannah caps the mascara with a flourish. "Take a look."
I turn to the mirror, surprised by my reflection. She's enhanced my features without making me look overdone. My eyes appear larger behind my glasses, my cheekbones more defined, my lips subtly glossed.
"Wow. You're really good at this."
"Practice." She starts packing up her makeup bag. "So, has Dad mentioned anything about tonight?"
