A Little Christmas Romance

by H. M. Ward

  My voice comes out raspy, pleading. “This is hard enough, you know? Leaving after being here, with all this—going home to an empty apartment. Chris, I can’t do it. Don’t make me explain it to you.”

  His grip lifts to my shoulders and he squeezes. “Of course not. I’m such an asshole. Brooke. Stay here tonight.”

  That was the last thing I expected him to say. My chin hits the floor and I can barely form words. “Don’t—”

  He doesn’t let me speak. “I mean it. Stay with me. We’ll watch old movies, drink eggnog, and stay up all night. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. I can’t let you leave. Stay.”

  “I can’t.”

  Smiling, he urges, “Don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you…” intimidate me. Because you make me lose my mind. Because you’re you. I think all those things but can’t say any of them. His grip is still on my shoulders. Part of me wants to say yes, but I’m afraid of this—of him. “I just can’t.”

  Chris nods slowly, like he understands, and fishes my keys out of his pocket. He holds them out so they dangle by the fob. Smiling sadly, he says, “I won’t make you stay, but I wish you would.”

  We stand perfectly still and the moment feels tangible, like it matters. The truth is that I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to wake up alone tomorrow morning. I don’t want to wipe the tears out of my eyes because I miss my mom and I’m by myself. I don’t even have a cat. There’s no tree, no lights, no Christmasy anything at my place. It’s weird. I thought all those things would just remind me of what I was missing, but it didn’t work out that way. By refusing to celebrate, it put all the focus on my loss instead of my life.

  Lowering my gaze to the floor, I leave the keys hanging between us. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  Chris takes a step closer, closing the space between us. He lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. “Because I’m crazy about you. I stood in line for three hours for a chance to say hello. I had no ride home. I ditched my friends and didn’t finish my Christmas shopping. I’m going to have to wrap the dog up or my brother will have no gift tomorrow.” He laughs and touches my cheek lightly. “But it was worth it, because it gave me a chance to talk to you. I never imagined that you’d be standing here tonight, that I’d get to be around you like this again. How could you not know?”

  My heart slams into my ribs violently, and the way he’s looking at me makes me feel lightheaded. “Not know what?”

  The corners of his mouth pull up nervously, like he wants to smile, but is uncertain. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that undoes me before his gaze sweeps the carpet. His lips part like he wants to tell me something, but he closes his mouth and shakes his head, then runs his fingers through his hair and down his neck. “I don’t know. It’s just been a great night, that’s all. It feels like old times and I don’t want them to end.” Chris takes my hand and uncurls my fingers, placing my keys in my palm.

  Pressing my lips together, I glance up at him. “I don’t want to leave.”

  That sexy smirk crosses his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  CHAPTER 8

  There’s a fire crackling in front of us. Chris is sitting on the couch next to me while I cradle a cup of cocoa and sip it slowly. I stare at the dancing flames, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. Not leaving now means that I’m staying. The snow is piling up outside and the roads are getting worse. I glance at the window again with worry twisting my gut into knots.

  Chris notices and stands up after setting his cup down on the coffee table. He walks over to the tree and says, “You want to see something funny?” I nod. He twists the base so the trunk turns and the tree spins slowly. The part that faced the wall is bare. “I didn’t get a chance to finish so I shoved the undecorated side into the wall.”

  I laugh lightly. “Slacker.”

  “Always. But now we have something to do until Santa comes.” He winks at me and reaches for a box that’s on the floor at the base of the tree. He sets it down on the table and opens the lid. “Come help me finish it. There are a few more ornaments in here and a shitload of tinsel.”

  He’s so tactless sometimes, and I wonder if it’s on purpose. Chris is always suave, constructing these wonderful sounding sentences and then throws in some jarring slang or a nasty word just to mix it up. I love it. Every time he does something like that, it’s difficult not to smile. The corners of my lips tug up on their own and my bad mood evaporates.

  I place my mug down and walk over, and pick up a glass ornament. It’s a green ball with ivy etched into the sides. I walk toward the tree and hang it on a branch. Something deep inside twists and I don’t feel the agony until the smile falls off my face. I swallow the tears, the loss, and every never-again scenario that pops into my head—basically, all the grief from losing my mom—and take another ornament.

  I do it again and take a slow steady breath. Chris moves closer to me and reaches over my head, putting a plastic Santa head up high. Before he steps back, he lingers in the space and I can feel him there, wondering if he should put his hands on me and offer some comfort. He knows what’s going through my head, he always has. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he saved this to make me do it with him.

  The first time is the hardest. For the past few years, I let this holiday come and go. There were no decorations, no lights or tinsel. Decorating a tree next year won’t be so bittersweet and the following year, it might even be nice again. But this year, right now, it’s ripping out my insides.

  Chris lingers and slips another ornament into my hands. He takes my fingers and helps me reach forward and loop it over a branch. The added sensation of his touch shorts out the horrible feelings and makes them collide with the strong certainty that Chris brings. My pulse pounds harder as he does it again and again. His touches linger and I can feel his breath on the side of my neck. Somehow my mood changes, and decorating a tree becomes sensual. The painful memories fade and it’s just me and him, here, now. There are no ghosts, no remorse.

  He hands me the last ornament and as we hang it together he whispers in my ear, “You’d make an excellent elf. I need to be careful that Santa doesn’t whisk you away tonight.” He laughs for a second and adds, “Between that outfit and your height, it’d be an easy mistake.”

  The corner of my mouth tugs up into a crooked smile. I round on him and poke a finger into his chest. “You’re just jealous that this much awesome fits into one little package, especially since you’re so big and lacking.”

  “Did you just comment on my package?”

  My jaw drops and I shove his chest with my fingertips. “I did not!”

  “Yes, you did. You said it was big, too. I heard you. I knew it! You want me.” He closes his eyes like Cupid shot him in the head and dips his shoulders from side to side like a lovesick girl.

  I take the opportunity to grab a fistful of tinsel and stuff it down his shirt. When he opens his mouth to yell at me, I shove my other hand up, too. “Eat tinsel!”

  Chris laughs and swats me away, spitting out the silvery strips of plastic before reaching for me. I yelp and back away as fast as I can, but the back of my knees hit his couch. Chris rushes at me and jumps, but I manage to sidestep him. He flies across the table and lands on the couch before rolling onto the floor. We both freeze for a second. I wait for him to move. For a moment I think he’s hurt until his lips curl into a smile.

  “You’re going to pay for that.” He jumps up and lunges at me.

  I screech and try to get around the table, but I’m lacking in the stealth department. He manages to grab my thigh and we tumble to the floor. Chris pins me down and has an evil look on his face as his gaze shifts to the cup of cold cocoa on the table.

  “Don’t you dare!” I laugh nervously, and try to twist away, but he’s on top of me and way too big. I can’t move.

  “I don’t know. You’ve been a little naughty Brooke.” H
e reaches for his mug and tips it slightly but the contents don’t pour out.

  CHAPTER 9

  Wriggling beneath him, I try to get away, but can’t. “I have not! You’re the one who went all pervert on me. I was just stating a fact.” I laugh and try to twist, but I can’t roll over and I sure can’t push him up. His legs are pressing against mine, holding them in place, and he’s got one hand next to my head and the other is holding the cup of cocoa.

  “Yes, I heard you say it—I have a big package. Come on, let’s hear you say it again.” In a falsetto voice, he continues, “Chris, I like your package better than anything UPS could ever bring me.” He’s grinning hard, showing a dimple on his cheek that I haven’t seen in forever.

  “No, I’m not saying that!”

  “Oh, I think you are.” He tilts the mug to the side and I wiggle like a hooked worm beneath him, making the contents slosh. A drop of cocoa jumps out and spills on my throat. It’s tepid, not hot, and not cold. I feel it streak across my throat and puddle behind my ear.

  His eyes trace the drop of chocolate around my neck and then flick up to my face, before dipping down to the deep V of my neckline. “I bet you don’t have a change of clothes, either. A wet chocolate elf sounds kind of kinky.” He winks and tips the cup.

  I screech, thinking that he’s going to pour it on me, but he doesn’t. He rights the mug and laughs. But it takes me too long to notice. Thinking I’d be covered in chocolate, I reached for the other cup. My fingers grab the handle and before he can look up, I dump the beverage on his shoulder.

  Yeah, I didn’t really think about the gravity thing. A waterfall of cocoa spills off of him and into my face. I wriggle and try to get free, but it’s too late. There’s a look in his eyes, and there’s no way in hell that Chris is letting me up without dumping his drink over my head.

  His blue eyes glitter with mirth. “You are an evil elf.” He takes his mug and tips it, spilling the contents down the center of my throat and then lower. He makes a line of cocoa from my collarbone and empties the rest of the cup between my breasts. I’m sopping wet, and sucking in air like I’m drowning, but it’s not because of what he did. It was the way he did it. His eyes traced the movement of the dark liquid across my pale skin.

  I can barely breathe as his gaze dips to my chest and lingers before returning to my face. He watches my lips and it seems like an eternity passes before he lowers his head and leans in close. His warm breath washes over my skin, and the urge to feel his lips on mine shoots through me. Neither of us is smiling, and we’re both breathing hard.

  Blinking slowly, Chris looks at me from under those dark lashes. His gaze flicks between my lips and my eyes before he inches closer. His chest is pressed against mine and we’re both soaking wet. He hesitates. “You smell like Swiss Miss.”

  “So do you.” I reach for him and tangle my fingers in his hair, which pulls him closer. His skin feels so warm against my palm and I can feel his heart racing. Fear surges through me as we linger, nearly lip to lip. I want to kiss him, but I don’t. I want to mean something to him and I’m not sure if I do. Sucking in a shaky breath, I look away. Everything feels stuck in the moment and time doesn’t move. The weight of his body against mine feels so wonderful, so warm. I wish things were different, but they’re not. Chris doesn’t have relationships, and nothing he’s said makes me believe that he’s changed.

  The moment shatters and he moves to the side, sitting up on the floor next to me. Pulling his knees into his chest, Chris looks over at me. I feel his gaze on the side of my face as I sit up and offer him an awkward smile and pull my soaked shirt off my skin, and sniff. “They should make this stuff into perfume.”

  Chris extends his long legs and laughs. “Do you know what that would do to the world’s population if women smelled like candy?”

  A grin crosses my lips and I nod. “World domination. Oh yeah. I can see it now.” We both laugh with the awkward tension of infatuated middle school kids. We sit facing one another, but neither of us looks up.

  The fire crackles and Chris sucks in a breath and pushes up off the floor. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to be warm and dry. Come on. I’ll see if I have a slutty elf costume in my closet.” A wry smile appears and he looks down at me and wiggles his fingers. Why does he have the ability to shock me over and over again? I sit there with my jaw springing up and down and let out a huff of air, mainly because I don’t know if he’s joking or not. “Suck it up Brooke.”

  “Wow.” I put my hand in his and he yanks me up. As he pulls, I say, “Is that what you say to all the girls?”

  CHAPTER 10

  The words do something to him. The smile slips off his face and his grip tightens on my hand as he pulls too hard. I slam into his chest and blink, surprised by his action. His arms clamp around my waist for half a second before he releases me. Those beautiful eyes meet mine and my stomach sinks. He’s mad.

  “Who do you think I am? You keep saying stuff like that, like you have me all figured out, but you don’t. You’re the one who walked away from me after your mom died. You’re the one who never looked twice at me. Is that the reason? Do you think so little of me? Do you really think that I’d be so calloused that I’d throw you away?” He’s in my face, saying things that I don’t want to hear. Tension lines his arms and shoulders like he wants to strangle something, but he doesn’t. Chris just stands there, close enough to kiss, and madder than I’ve ever seen him.

  Is it possible that I misjudged him? My voice quivers when it comes out, so much so that I don’t sound like me. “No, don’t try to flip this around. You’re a player. You’ve always wanted—”

  “I’ve always wanted what, Brooke? Be very careful, because the next thing you say could land your ass outside in the snow.” His hands ball at his sides and he looks away, like he can’t stand the sight of me.

  Why is he offended? How can he act like this? “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair after he walks away. Chris grabs a couple of towels from a small closet and tosses them at me. “You can use the shower first.”

  The towels smack into me and I keep them from tumbling to the floor. Clutching them to my chest, I walk past him to the little bathroom. Why does he have to do that? Everything was fine, right up until then, and I’m not going to feel bad for saying it. It’s the image he put out there. Why is it my fault for believing him? Screw that. He can go have PMS by himself. I clean up and wrap myself in a towel. The room is steamy from all the hot water and the thought of hiding in there forever sounds really appealing.

  I don’t understand him. How can he be offended? And I have looked twice at him. I have thought about him, and wished for way more than any sane girl would possibly hope for, because he’s Chris. The idea of dealing with another loss right now is too much and that’s what will happen. I’m not stupid and I don’t want to hear that Last Christmas song next year and feel like an idiot. Because that would be the biggest mistake I could make—telling him that I care about him, that I always have. Caving in and letting him kiss me would be so nice, but so far from sane that I can’t comprehend the outcome.

  I swipe my hand across the mirror, but it fogs again almost instantly. This isn’t the way I wanted to spend tonight, resisting attraction until we’re both crazy. I should leave, but the snow has only gotten worse since we got here.

  There’s a knock and I hear his voice. “I have sweats for you.”

  I open the door a crack and he shoves them through. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  He hands me a pair of gray sweats and leaves me to change. I hold them to my face and inhale deeply knowing that they smell like him. I stand there like that way too long, wishing for things that I shouldn’t want. When I leave the bathroom, Chris slips into the shower, and I head over to the couch. He’s already mopped up the spilled drinks. I flick through channels, but nothing takes my
mind off of Chris and the hurt look on his face.

  When he emerges from the shower, his dark hair is tousled and wet. He’s wearing sweatpants, and nothing else. His toned chest has perfectly defined abs that look totally lickable. The thought shocks me, because I don’t think things like that, but holy hell.

  “I’ve got to get to sleep. Long day. Just let me grab a blanket and pillow. You can take my bed.” He disappears into his bedroom before I can say anything. I pad barefoot, following after him, wanting to fix things, but I don’t know how.

  Chris’s bedroom is gray with a queen bed topped with a snowman quilt. It makes me laugh. He looks over his shoulder at me as he grabs one of the pillows. “The bedspread? Yeah, compliments of my mom.” It seems like he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. His serious look calms his features, and he reaches for the blanket at the foot of the bed. “Good night, Brooke. Merry Christmas.”

  Chris is about to walk past me. I have to do something. I can’t let tonight end this way. He was so happy and I shot it all to hell. I’m not bold, brave, or anything else, but tonight I manage. Just as he’s about to pass me, I step in front of him. There’s an armful of fluffy crap between us.

  My gaze fixates on that because it’s too hard to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I said that before. The truth is,” why is it so hard to say? I feel the words stuck at the back of my throat, but I can’t make my mouth move. I glance up at him and try again. “The truth is that something about you scares me.”

  His head tips to the side slightly and his stern features soften. The death grip he has on his blankets loosens and he closes his eyes for half a second before tossing the stuff back onto his bed. “So, then, let’s have it.” He holds up both hands and waves his fingertips toward his chest. “Dish it out, Brooke, and let’s just get this over with.”