Page 22 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

“Like what?”

“Like you see right through me.” Her voice breaks a little on the last word.

Maybe it's the late hour, or the way the Christmas lights make her eyes sparkle, or just the primal recognition that's been drawing us together since that first night. Whatever it is, I can't resist anymore.

I cup her face in my hands, giving her time to pull away even though everything in me rebels at the thought. She doesn't.

“Maybe I do understand,” I murmur. “Maybe that's what scares you.”

For a moment, she leans into my touch, her eyes drifting shut. Everything in me wants to pull her closer, to chase away whatever's eating at her.

But I can't. Not yet. Something tells me if I push now, if Eden runs tonight, she won't come back.

So I let her step away, my hands falling empty. Back to safer ground. For now.

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on my palms. “I should get your pay sorted.”

I start toward the register, giving her space, but Eden waves me off.

“Don't be ridiculous. We're practically family now, right?” Her voice catches on 'family,' and something flickers across her face. “Or we will be, once Mom and Robert...”

She trails off, looking anywhere but at me.

“Earlier tonight,” I say carefully, watching her face, “you seemed worried about the wedding plans. About your mom rushing in.”

She tenses up, shoulders going stiff. Still won't look at me.

“You've been on edge about this wedding since you walked into my bar that first night,” I press gently.

“That obvious, huh?” She takes a long sip of her soda, like she's stalling.

When she finally looks up, her eyes are troubled. “They're moving so fast. Eight months and suddenly they're planning a wedding. Picking out china patterns and talking about renovating Mom's house and—” She stops herself, running a hand through her hair.

“When you know, you know,” I say, the words coming out heavier than I meant them to.

She drops her half-eaten pretzel. “That's the problem - they don't know each other.”

“They're happy,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Dad lights up around your mom. I haven't seen him like this.”

“Eight months, Jack.” Her fingers start crumbling the edge of a pretzel. “That's nothing. That's barely enough time to know someone's coffee order, let alone commit to forever.”

I keep my voice soft. “Your mom seems more grounded with Robert.”

“For now.” Eden pushes her hair back again. “Look, I watched Mom spiral after my dad left. The dating, the impulse decisions. Mom doesn't think things through, just jumps in and I have to pick up the pieces.”

The hurt in her voice hits me hard. Dad filled me in on some of this last week - how her father had bailed last year, how he'd wrecked their family without a second thought.

Eden doesn't know I'm in on any of this. Watching her try to stay strong now, shielding her mother's heart when her own must still be raw... Something fierce and protective flares up inside me.

This isn't about my old man and her mom anymore. This is about wounds that haven't healed, trust that's still shaky.

I step closer. “Look, I get it. You want to protect her.”

“And you are looking out for your father.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “We're not so different.”

Understanding hits me hard. The fierce need to shield our parents from pain. The way we both build walls to keep others out. “No. We're not.”

I move closer without thinking, drawn to her. Eden backs up until she hits the bar, but I can't stop myself from following.

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