Page 33 of Back Home For Christmas

“The real question is, why do you remember that?” I asked. I did remember it. Even at the time, I had told her I didn’t care if no man ever liked me, but it had been a lie. I cared so much, and it hurt to know she didn’t think I would ever be worthy of the kind of love I wanted.

“I thought it was funny,” he said.

“Of course, you did.”

“I thought your mom didn’t know what she was talking about because the way you ate was cute.” I had no idea how to respond to that. Of course, that didn’t stop my brain from milling over what the hell he meant. Was he just saying that to be nice? Was he joking? Why would he think me eating like a slob was cute? Truly, nothing made sense anymore, but at least we could go back to the hotel and warm up.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The warm glow of the bed-and-breakfast beckoned me as we made our way back through the snow, which still fell steadily, piling up around us.

Inside, I felt bad tracking snow through the lobby and up the stairs, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t wait to cuddle into the warm bed. Until I remembered we only had one. Part of me, some tiny little part, wouldn’t have minded Jay’s strong arms around me, like they had been when we danced, but my logical brain knew that would end in something terrible.

In the room, Jay stoked the fire while I pulled off my boots, coat, and sweater. I really wanted to take off my wet pants. Eventually, I would have to, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk around in panties around Jay. He probably wouldn’t even bother glancing in my direction, though.

Once the fire roared and the room was warm and cozy, Jay grabbed a pillow from the bed and tossed it onto the floor.

“You’re going to sleep on the floor with only a pillow?” I asked.

“I don’t have any other choices. Besides, the fire will keep me warm,” he said. I started pulling open drawers and the small cabinets in the bathroom, looking for an extra blanket.

“Call down to the front,” I said.

“This isn’t a hotel, Cat Scratch. It’s a bed-and-breakfast. The owner was going home when I caught up with him to ask for this room.”

There was a long pause as Jay lied on the floor with his arms behind his back.

“We aren’t children. I’m sure we can share a bed, so long as you stay on your side,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was saying it, but it was ridiculous to think that he was sleeping on the hard floor without even a blanket.

“You are the only one who has ever made a move, you know,” he said.

“I guess you really want to sleep on the floor,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. He sat up and held up his hands innocently.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I would appreciate sleeping in the bed, but only if you are comfortable with it,” he said. I wasn’t. Or maybe I was comfortable, a little too comfortable.

“It’s fine. But turn around, I have to take off these wet pants. I don’t want you to see,” I said.

“Wow, Kitty Cat, I really didn’t know you had it in you,” he said with a laugh. I grabbed a throw pillow off the armchair and threw it at his face. “Okay, Okay, I won’t look.”

He turned to face the far wall as I pulled off my pants as quickly as I could, leaving them in a heap by the fire before I practically sprinted for the bed and pulled up the covers. I felt my face burning, even though I knew he hadn’t seen anything.

“You can turn around,” I said. He turned and saw me in bed with the covers up to my chin. I started creating a wall of pillows down the middle of the bed.

“I thought you said we weren’t children?” He asked as he crossed to the fire, picked up my pants, folded them neatly and hung them on the armchair, angling it so the fire could dry them.

“Everything has to be just so. You couldn’t live with my pants in a pile on the floor. What if I wanted them where I left them?” I asked.

“I thought you would want a dry pair of pants, but if you want them in a heap on the floor, I can make that happen,” he said.

My eyebrows furrowed, and I let out an inaudible grumble. He was so impossible. It made me nuts that he always had to be right, but it made me even more crazy that he so often was.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. I lied down in bed, turning away from where he would be sleeping and pulled the covers all the way up. He turned off the light. Then, after a moment of him moving through the dark room, I felt his weight compress the other side of the mattress.

“Goodnight, Cat,” he whispered into the mostly dark room, lit only by stray moonlight coming through the cracks in the curtain and the glowing orange of the fire. All things considered, it was very cozy.

I was acutely aware of every inch of my body as the sheets touched my skin, and shifted ever so slightly with the tiny movements he made. The king bed felt incredibly small, as if he were only an inch away from me. I worried if I moved at all, I would find myself pressed up against him. I thought about how he slept. Was he on his back? His side? Was he facing me or facing away? I couldn’t turn off my brain.

Then I wondered what he was thinking. What if he hated sharing a bed with me? What if he was already asleep? What if, worst of all, he was thinking about my half naked body separated by only pillows?

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