Page 63 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
He was also going to need to clean up the doll and do something about its broken china parts. He needed glue. He wondered if there was any in the barn.
A soft tapping came at the door. By now he knew Holly’s knock well. He scrambled to stuff the doll under a cushion, shoved the box of sewing supplies behind a chair, and jumped up to look like he was tinkering with the fireplace when the door opened and Holly came in with a covered plate.
“Dinner,” she said, setting it on the small table by the door. “I’m sorry to keep feeding you up here.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
Holly sighed and tucked her hands under her arms. “With the tree farm staying open late, we’re going to need you down there tonight. I promised I’d help Noelle with someholiday cleaning this evening. That’s going to leave you and Dad to cover the tree farm. I’m sorry about that, too.”
“It’s fine.” He stood up and tried to casually shove the box of sewing supplies further behind the chair with his heel. “It isn’t your responsibility to be a buffer between me and your dad. We’re both adults. We can get along.”
“I know, I just feel bad about abandoning you.”
“You’re not.” He crossed the room and carefully took her forearms in his. It was still so strange to do this after he’d seen her naked, teased those little gasps and moans out of her—to treat her as if they were near-strangers just beginning to casually date. But it also brought a strange intensity. If they could only touch fully clothed, then he couldn’t help but be aware of her strong, lithe body beneath her clothes, the luscious curves that not even her shapeless sweaters and stained barn coat could disguise.
Drawing her nearer by her arms alone no longer felt like enough. He put his hand on her face, ran his thumb across her chin and the full corner of her mouth. Her lips parted a little; her eyelashes flickered, wide-open gold-flecked eyes gazing up at him.
If he gave in to the temptation to kiss her, with just the two of them in Mistletoe Manor, there was no telling where it could lead.
And he didn’t dare go there yet.
Not to mention the doll under the seat cushion, which was going to be next to impossible to explain without giving the whole surprise away.
So he took a step back. Holly sighed a little and raised her hand to touch her face where his fingers had brushed her soft skin.
“Okay,” she whispered. “See you later.” And she turned and nearly fled.
He hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings. He was afraid that he had.
“True to form, Jace,” he muttered to himself.
The food under the plastic cover was still hot, sliced pot roast and green beans, mashed potatoes drowning in butter, and herbed toast. He wolfed down a few bites and then made a quick-and-dirty sandwich that he could eat while he walked.
Then he stuffed the doll and sewing kit under the capacious brown coat, which had inner pockets so huge that you could probably fit a baby goat in here, or at least an entire lunch and some farm supplies with room left over. And he headed down to the barn to look for glue.
He had forgotten how much stuff there was in the barn.
He had also forgotten about the chickens, but they didn’t wake up much, just clucked sleepily at him and shuffled around on their perches when he turned on the barn lights.
Realizing that all anyone would have to do was look over from the house to see someone was out here, he quickly turned off most of the lights again, leaving a dim light in the back that he hoped was located so that it wouldn’t be terribly visible from the house or the tree farm.
Which of course made his search even harder. After tripping on a few things, he found a flashlight, and that helped.
The barn was full and a bit cluttered, but it wasn’t messy. In fact, the tool areas were ruthlessly well organized. He found a workbench that looked like it was used for woodworking, with a bunch of hand tools: saws, files, sandpaper. There was a smell of varnish and paint. Aha! Glue. He picked up a tube of woodworking glue?—
The lights came on overhead. Jace froze like a startled burglar.
A moment later, Rocket bounded up to nose at his leg, her fur frosty and a halo of cool air washing along with her. The Colonel clomped up behind her, giving Jace a look that was hard to read.
“Wheeler.”
“Colonel, sir.”
“Hope you put everything back exactly where you found it.”
Jace was increasingly hoping he had, too. He hastily put down the woodworking glue. The Colonel reached out and moved the bottle back in line with a couple of other bottles.
“Now how about you tell me what you’re doing, son.”
