Page 30 of Back Home For Christmas

He pushed open the door to a little bed-and-breakfast that had been created out of an old Victorian house. The floorboards underneath the teal green carpet squealed as we walked inside and started to thaw. While it looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least forty years, it was cozy. Off to the right of the foyer, there was a great room with oversized armchairs and a big roaring fire. A tree was decorated within an inch of its life and holly, pine garlands and string lights cover the walls.

“This is nice,” I said, gravitating toward the fire while Jay headed to the dining area to see if he could find someone. I knew several owners of bed and breakfasts who only showed up for scheduled check ins and to cook breakfast. I was worried that we wouldn’t find anyone to give us a key, although it was a good sign that the front door had been unlocked.

I wouldn’t mind if it took Jay an hour to find someone because I was really enjoying the heat from the fire as I stood with my back facing it. We hadn’t been out in the snow for a terribly long time, but without the proper winter gear, I was soaking wet and absolutely freezing. If my mother had been here, she would have been yelling at me about my poor planning and stupid decisions. I often wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt that she loved me and just wanted the best, but it was still hard to withstand the constant critique.

“I have good news and bad news,” Jay said, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word to let him know that I didn’t appreciate the suspense.

“They have space.”

“Oh my god, that is amazing.”

“But it’s only one room.”

“Of course, it is.”

“It’s the honeymoon suite.”

“Holy shit!” I said. “We have to keep looking.”

“You know that we aren’t going to do that,” he said. “We are lucky we found this room at all. You can sleep in the bed. I will sleep on the floor. You can pretend I am not there.”

“Unlikely,” I said.

“Come on, I already got the key.”

“Thanks for getting my opinion first.”

“Your opinion is clouded by poor judgement.”

“There is that condescension that we all know and love.”

“I knew you loved me,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Ugh! Why are you like this!” He disappeared up the stairs and with a heavy sigh, that could have been confused for a grunt, I was left with no choice but to follow. As I walked through the red carpeted hallway, I watched as Jay turned and went up another thin, creaky staircase that, in any other setting, would feel like the setting of a horror movie. Although, given my current circumstance, I didn’t think that was terribly far off.

“Ohhh the penthouse,” I said as I followed behind Jay. The stairs had, once upon a time, led to an attic, but the room behind the heavy wooden door had been updated into what I could only be described as a cheesy, eighties suite. The space wasn’t huge and was made to feel even smaller by the four-post king sized bed, oversized oak dresser, giant fireplace, a small arm chair, and the two-person whirlpool tub.

“A fireplace,” I said with enthusiasm. I crossed the room and knelt in front of the giant hearth and started piling logs onto the iron grate.

“Who taught you how to build a fire?” Jay asked, gently shoving me out of the way so he could kneel too.

“I know how to build a fire,” I said, shoving him back.

“No, you don’t. There isn’t enough oxygen flow between those logs,” he said, slapping my hand away to rearrange the logs.

“You don’t always have to get your way, you know,” I said as I used all of my body weight, which wasn’t much given my position on my knees, to knock him over. “I’m going to make the fire my way.”

He barely moved, so I leaned into him with our shoulders touching and pushed. He laughed, before he leaned backward and I fell face first into his lap, just barely catching myself. He wrapped his hands around my waist, picked me up with my legs kicking, and threw me onto the bed. When I shifted up onto my elbows, prepared to defend my fire making skills, he climbed onto the bed with a knee on either side of my legs and pushed my shoulders flat against the mattress.

“You stay here,” he said. I swallowed hard, looking up into his face that had become suddenly dark after the relatively playful banter we had just had. My whole body felt warm with him hovering just above me. My body was a traitor. I wasn’t allowed to get all weak in the knees for Jay Crowley no matter how hot his muscles looked in a t-shirt while holding me against the bed. A flush crept up from my stomach, over my chest, and into my cheeks before I found my voice.

“You know, this is the perfect position to kick you in the balls,” I said.

He laughed, leaning down even closer, so his lips brushed my ear and his chest pressed against my breasts. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, Cat,” he whispered.

The world froze and narrowed to the weight of his body, the smell of his cologne, the feel of his lips on my ear, and my pounding heart. I would have sold my soul in that moment for him to shift slightly and kiss me, despite all the promises I made to myself. But he didn’t. Instead, he stood abruptly, leaving me out of breath and wanting on the bed as he turned to start the fire.

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