Page 48 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
Cami slid a shot glass across the kitchen island to me. Rum, or what I was fairly certain was rum, sloshed over the edge and spilled over the granite, but at this stage of the evening, spilled liquor wasn’t a concern.
Justin had just closed on the house, closing the deal with an offer well over asking price. His clients were thrilled, and the buyers were more than eager to get themselves moved in before the holidays really geared up. Justin had already passed along North’s name to them and offered to hook them up with a live Christmas tree to be waiting for them, watered and set up, the day they moved in because all the ones Winter had decorated for the open house were being donated. A Merry Christmas and thank you gift. They’d jumped at the offer and requested I decorate it.
My ego didn’t need any more stroking, but here I was, basking in the glory of people loving the “magic” I brought to Christmas.
Somehow, with our busy schedule, I’d have to sort out some time to come back to the house and decorate the tree. North had already offered to help me, which was sweet.
What was also sweet was how he’d been by my side all evening.
Even now, as I held my shot glass of rum, he stood close enough that I could smell him—and simultaneously not be able to see past him because of his sheer size. I gave him a little prodding with my elbow and he moved back a step so I could see the group around the island—Justin, Cami, Marge, Leslie, North, and me. A few stragglers joined us every now and then, but for the most part the party had wound down.
Well, for normal people anyway.
We were still celebrating.
“To Justin!” Cami hollered, lifting her shot glass in the air.
“To Justin!” We all echoed, following suit and throwing back our shots.
North set his down on the counter hard and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “Shit.”
I licked my lips, enjoying the spicy, cinnamon-tinged aftertaste. “I love spiced rum. All that’s missing is some eggnog.”
Cami winked. “Next time.”
More shots were poured. The liquor continued to flow, and my head began to buzz pleasantly, but before things went too far I held up a hand and shook my head. “No more for me.”
North put his hand in the small of my back. “Are you ready to go home?”
Home?
The farm wasn’t my home, but I kind of liked that he referred to it as such. Perhaps it was because he wanted me to feel at home during my stay. Either way, I liked how it sounded on his lips, and I nodded. My bed and cozy cabin had been calling my name for the last half hour.
We said our goodbyes. Justin thanked us profusely and promised to get in touch and work out a schedule for delivering and decorating the Christmas tree in a week for the new buyers. North helped me with my coat, opened the door for me, and followed me out onto the porch. The cold air bit into my cheeks as we descended the front steps, so I buried my chin in the collar of my coat and crammed my hands into the fleece-lined pockets.
We had to make the quarter-mile walk down the dark, tree-lined country road from the heritage house to the Waylon Farm. North and I had both indulged a little too much and weren’t fit to drive, so we left his car there for him to get later. Instinctively, I stayed close to him, wary of coyotes or other wild animals that might want to test their bravery on two wayward wanderers in the middle of nowhere.
The hemline of my dress began to soak through from the ice and sludge on the street. When my teeth started to chatter, he reached out, wrapped a thick arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into the depths of his open jacket.
My shivering ceased almost immediately as his body heat seeped into my bones. “Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t have had so many shots,” he admitted. “It would have been better to drive.”
“The fresh air is good for my head. Besides, Justin is your friend. I’m glad you celebrated with us. I think tonight meant a lot to him.”
He admitted that it probably did with a short grunt.
I’m beginning to understand his nonverbal communications,I mused.Is that a good or a bad sign?
Up ahead, the farm came into view, and we followed the glowing lights down the driveway to the front door, wrapped in garland and surrounded by Christmas lights. A decorating team had been hard at work all day while we were busy. Illuminated wreaths hung in front of each window on the second floor, and white lights strung in perfectly straight lines followed every inch of trim on the mansion.
I stopped to admire it all. “It’s beautiful.”
“It has worthy competition tonight.”
Glancing up, I found him staring at me, the reflection of the lights dancing in his eyes.
“Is that the rum talking?” I asked softly.
