Page 24 of Holly Jolly Heresy
“You chopped down a tree?”
He tilted his chin towards the living room. “That tree, in fact.”
“You are full of surprises.” Her words hung between them, then she cleared her throat and looked away, a delicious blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. He wanted to drag his tongue along her throat, see if the pretty pink color changed the way her skin tasted.
You are going to hell. Straight to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect God’s blessing.
Caleb turned back to the stove and focused on scrambling the eggs, breaking up the curds with unnecessary precision. He wanted her. Now that he knew the little noises she made when she came, how it felt to wake up with her in his arms, he knew he’d never stop wanting her. His stomach twisted, guilt and shame and something else—a whole different kind of guilt at not feeling enough shame to be able to stop.
Chapter nine
Molly dug through the cardboard box Caleb had hauled from the closet in the hall and produced yet another crocheted snowflake. She settled it amongst the Christmas tree’s sparse branches and avoided eye contact with Caleb, just as she’d done since breakfast. There’d been a moment while he was cooking when he’d looked at her and she saw something that looked an awful lot like regret flash behind his eyes.
Not that it mattered. With any luck, they’d be back on the road by the following morning and they could forget all about the temporary insanity that had gripped them the night before—insanity to think it was a good idea to cross that line with Caleb.
Insanity to think you can forget it.
Who was she kidding? She knew she’d never forget it. Just like she’d never forget the disappointment of waking up alone, or the shock of finding him in the morning beaming with pride at this scraggly tree, his hair sleep tousled, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—the sluttiest accessory any man could wear. And that damn collar. It shouldn’t make him hotter, but shedidn’t make the rules, and it absolutely did, even if it was the symbol of his vow to not do the very thing they’d done the night before.
But if Caleb wanted to pretend nothing happened, then that’s what they would do. Even if he had gone out into the snow and chopped down a Christmas tree for her… It was probably for the best anyway.
“How did you even know where to look for Christmas ornaments?” she asked, determined to keep their conversation PG-rated.
“I took a leap of faith,” he said. “Those aren’t the only decorations in the closet. There’s a whole box of leprechaun hats and shamrocks. And one that must be for bachelorette parties.”
“Why? What’s in that box?”
He hesitated, a burst of pink blooming across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Inflatable penises. So many inflatable penises.”
She laughed, the sound pouring out of her at his beleaguered sigh. “Please tell me there were penis straws too.”
“I didn’t look.”
“I bet you anything there are penis straws.”
He pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh, then turned on his heel and marched into the hall. Molly continued gingerly hanging ornaments from the tree as she listened to him shuffling through boxes in the hall closet. A moment later, he returned, a shiny pink plastic penis straw sticking out of one corner of his mouth.
He grinned around the straw. “You would have won that bet.”
She threw her head back and laughed. The joy of seeing Caleb like this—playful and warm andfree—was almost overwhelming. His eyes locked on her, tracing the curve of her cheek. And was that atwinklein his eye?
Come on, God. First the glasses and now atwinkle? You’re not playing fair.
“What do I get for winning?”
“I didn’t actually take the bet, so I’m pretty sure we both win.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. What doyouget for winning?”
“This,” he said, tossing aside the penis straw and handing her another ornament. “You, happy.”
“Isn’t that something I get?”
He shrugged. “Like I said. We both win.” She turned her attention to the snowman ornament, focusing too intently on making sure it hung just right amongst the branches. It was easier when they were joking, laughing, like they’d done so many times before. Until it wasn’t. Until the light shifted, highlighting the fullness of his bottom lip, the strong line of his nose, and suddenly she wasn’t sure how she was going to get through another twenty-four hours without touching him again.
His heat at her back raised goosebumps at the nape of her neck. He didn’t touch her, but she felt him all the same, like the space between two magnets, an invisible, tangible thing. He reached past her shoulder and hung another glass ball on the tree, moving closer, the space between them shrinking infinitesimally, but enough that she sensed it.
His voice was low when he spoke, all the earlier mirth drained away and replaced with something else. Nerves maybe. Hesitation. “I like making you happy.”
