Page 27 of Tee the Season
“Perfect.” His voice is rough. “But maybe add something about the wish list feature?”
“Good thinking.” I make the changes, my mind still scattered, even as I try to focus. “There. I think that covers everything.”
I hit post before I can overthink it. Now, we wait.
I set my laptop aside and pull my knees to my chest, suddenly exhausted. Tomorrow will be huge, assuming anyone actually registers. Assuming the technology works. Assuming I didn’t just make a massive mistake putting this much faith in a virtual event.
“Hey.” Rory’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “It’s going to be a success.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you. And it’s clear how much this town loves what you do.” He stands, stretching. “And I know that sitting here worrying all night won’t change anything.”
“So what do you suggest?” I try for sarcasm, but it comes out weary.
His mouth curves into the half-smile that does dangerous things to my pulse. “I have something that’ll distract you.”
Heat floods through me. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah.” He offers me his hand, pulling me to my feet. His fingers are warm and strong as they curl around mine, and when I’m standing, he pulls me close against his chest. With one hand on my hip, the other rises to brush a strand of hair back from my face, his thumb grazing my cheekbone. The touch is so gentle, so deliberate, that heat pools low in my belly and my lips part on an unsteady breath.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand again.
I follow him toward the stairs, my mind already racing ahead to what happens when we get to my apartment. The way his hands will feel on my skin. The way he kisses as if he’s memorizing me. The way I keep forgetting this is temporary every time he touches me.
But when we get upstairs, he doesn’t head to the bedroom. Instead, he leads me to the couch and grabs the remote.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting on a movie.” He drops onto the couch, patting the cushion beside him.
I stare at him. “You want to watch a movie?”
“I want to prove I’m right.” His eyes dance. “Unless you’re scared you’ll have to admit I won the argument aboutDie Hardbeing a Christmas movie.”
Despite everything, the uncertainty, the complicated feelings I’m trying not to examine, I laugh. “Not a chance.”
He pulls me down beside him, and I let him, tucking myself against his side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Just watch. By the time John McClane saves Nakatomi Tower, you’ll be a convert.”
His arm settles around my shoulders, solid and warm, and I let myself have this. One night of pretending we’re just two lovers snowed in, watching a movie, and not two people hurtling toward something neither of us knows how to navigate.
“Don’t count on it,” I murmur as the opening credits start.
His laugh rumbles through his chest against my cheek as he drops a casual kiss on my head.
Chapter thirteen
Rory
Iclick to close the livestream window as the final numbers glow on Tabitha’s laptop screen: $3,847. Seventy-seven families attended, and donations are still trickling in.
She stares at the computer, one hand pressed to her mouth.
“We did it.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “We actually did it.”
I’m still in the full Santa getup, the beard pulled down under my chin, watching her process what we just accomplished. Whatsheaccomplished. I simply helped with the tech and read some books.
