Page 42 of The Christmas Romance Wish

The curve of her waist fits against me like her palm in my hand. We’re snug in the backseat. Although I’d rather be almost anywhere else, I can’t think of a single person I’d rather be with.

I tried to keep my distance. To think of her as a sister. To just be a friend, co-writers.

But I fell. It was instant. Black ice. Spinning wildly into her embrace.

There’s no stopping this and I wouldn’t want to, anyway.

“Tell me a story,” Emmie whispers sleepily.

“What kind?”

“One with a happy ending. I like the rumble of your voice with a twinge of a western accent. It’s like a lullaby.”

I chuckle internally because thisconfirms the comment I overheard the last time we were on the phone. “Can it be a Christmas story?”

“The bah humbugs say yes. I say...” But before she finishes, she must doze off because she falls silent.

I gaze at her and then out the window, wondering if Christmas came early, at least for me because even though I’d like Emmie to spend the holidays with her family, I count myself lucky that we get a little more time together.

Earlier, Emmie commented about not having a story. Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to escape mine.

By writing it down and sharing it with the world? I must be out of my mind.

Once the book we’ve written together hits shelves, it’s no longer just mine. I suppose that also means it’s no longer my burden to bear alone.

That’s part of the process, healing, moving on from the losses, and celebrating all the wins. There were many, and that’s not to be discounted, but it’s easy to forget them in the shadow of pain like so many of my brothers experience. The book is to show them how to experience both—the highs and lows. The victories and the heartbreak.

This, right now, I count as a major triumph.

I silently chide myself for being so dumb and denying my feelings for Emmie. She already knows almost everything about me. But I’ll keep the BM stuff to myself, thank you very much.

However, the fighter in me rears his head, reminding me of wounds and scars. It lists all the reasons I don’t have time for a relationship, never mind that I’m terrible at them.

The wordselfishbounces around my head like a pinball. Then comes the reminder about our age difference and the distance between us.

Repeatedly trying to shut down the voice of doubt, I focus on my breathing, on the amazingly sweet woman snuggled up beside me. Right now, I can keep her warm and safe. Whatever happens later, I’ll deal with it then.

I’ve always told myself that fools are afraid. Warriors are prepared. But I can’t lie, what I feel for her is bigger than anything I’ve experienced. Nothing I could prepare for. It terrifies me.

For now, I turn my attention to my surroundings, looking for the plows and hoping we’re not stranded overnight. On the upside, I have enough caffeine in me to pull through.

Eventually, my thoughts drift from the past to the present and then settle on the future. Getting back to the ranch, of course, but beyond that.

Would Emmie want to spend time out here? Could I manage in the city?

In the distance, the low rumble of a large vehicle grows louder. Relief sweeps through me when the glowing lights of a commercial plow truck cut through the snow. Without disturbing Emmie, I get back in the driver’s seat and prepare for the okay to proceed through the gap.

Not much later, two more plows appear, clearing the way. I’ll have to invite these guys to the ranch for an all-they-can-eat spread sometime. The road crew goes above and beyond, working in these conditions.

Eventually, I’m cleared to proceed with caution and make slow progress home.

Emmie commented on not feeling like she had a home, nor does she like Christmas. Those two factors together make me sad for her. When I pass my few neighbors, Christmas lights festooning their houses, I get an idea to change that.

After pulling into the garage, I smooth a few stray hairs out of Emmie’s face. Curled up in the back seat, she rustles slightly.

“We’re home,” I whisper.

Wearing a faint smile, she opens her eyes. “Was that a dream?”

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