Page 103 of Deck the Fire Halls

“Are you hungry? I made that potato thing. It’s really good. It’s hard for something with potatoes, cream, and cheese to be anything but good, but the carb count is astronomical.”

I chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”

He dished up some grilled chicken, scalloped potatoes, and steamed green beans, and it was possibly the best thing I’d ever eaten. Granted, I was starving, but wow. “This is so good,” I said, trying to refrain from vacuuming it in like a heathen.

And then we spent the entire afternoon on his couch, snuggling under a blanket, watching the Christmas movie channel. It was sappy and sweet, and I dozed off a few times with him tracing patterns on my back and pressing kisses on the top of my head.

The next day he put the clear coat on the salad servers while I shoveled his driveway and mine. Then I helped Chuck do his. I found myself back in my own house, trying to distract myself, wishing like hell I was with Rob, until I couldn’t fucking stand it and went and knocked on his door.

He laughed when he saw me, held the door open for me and closed it behind me. I wasn’t even pretending to be anything other than pitiful. “I think my furnace is acting up again—” There was nothing wrong with my furnace, I just needed an excuse. “—and the house is cold, and my bed is lonely. Everything is gray and gloomy over there, and everything here is warm and yellow.”

He chuckled. “Thank you for describing my house like a urine sample.”

I laughed. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

He stepped in and kissed me. “What are you like at gift wrapping?”

“Terrible.”

“Then you can keep me company while I do it.”

Of course he wrapped presents with surgical precision.Even tied a bow like I’d seen in movies or magazines. “You’re so good at this,” I murmured.

“You totally saved the entire gift with your Union Jack painting skills.”

I chuckled, dropping my forehead to his shoulder, my fingers playing with his. God, I wanted to tell him so bad. I wanted him to know?—

“Did you get Chuck’s driveway cleared?”

I looked up at him then. “Yeah. His place is out near Vern’s Bar. He has a few acres, and he has a mini snowplow he can hook up on his riding lawn mower. But it’s still a lot of work. He appreciates the help though.”

“I’ll have to meet him properly,” Rob murmured. “I met him briefly when I delivered the pizza to you at work.”

My heart rate kicked up a gear. “Really? I mean, yeah, sure. I’d love that. We could do a dinner or something. His girlfriend, Delaney, is great. Has the patience of a saint, that woman, to put up with him. And I say that with nothing but affection for Chuck. Don’t get me wrong. I love the guy...”

And there it was. The word love. Even saying it in his presence made my belly knot up. Nerves strung tight, making it hard to breathe...

“Maybe after Christmas,” Rob said. “We can organize something.”

And then he talked about the Kris Kringle dinner tomorrow night. He was excited to see Jayden and Cass’s bed and breakfast, excited for a dinner party with new friends.

And my chance to tell him was over.

I mean, I could have blurted it out at any time but I wanted it to be perfect. And he was excited for these social gatherings with friends, something he hadn’t experienced in far too long. It felt wrong to diminish his excitement.

I could have told him when we showered together, when we fell into bed together. I could have told him at breakfast the next day or when he was making the potato dish to take for the potluck. I could have told him when he was getting ready, gorgeous and nervous, excited.

But it didn’t feel like the perfect time.

Maybe there wasn’t a perfect time. Maybe when he was brushing his teeth and I’d made him laugh was the perfect time. Or when he carried the food and wrapped gift out to his car and almost slipped on the path. I’d caught his arm and saved him from falling; our noses were barely an inch apart. Maybe that was the perfect time.

Maybe I’d missed it.

“You okay?” he asked as he drove out along Ponderosa Road. “You’re a bit quiet.”

“Nah, I’m great,” I replied. “Just thinking . . .”

“About?”

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