Page 68 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

But I can tell she kind of likes it.

I kind of do too.

“I need to talk to both of you,” I say, still holding them. In that moment, I need to be anchored to them. Ineedit. “There’s something I have to tell you. Can we go sit somewhere private?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KENNEDY

I’m awakened by a light knock on the door. My first fuzzy thought is to be surprised that I managed to fall asleep. I spent the whole evening a big bundle of nerves, unable to do anything other than finish searching the room. There were no visible bugs, although would I even know what to look for? I flipped listlessly through the holiday romance Jeff gave me, followed by the biography of Jonah’s similarly named relative. I wasn’t surprised to discover he was a horrible man—the kind historians write cautionary tales about.

I was physically exhausted, so I finally lay down on the bed and studied the little tree, counting the lights as if they were sheep jumping over fences.

The knock lands again, and terror rips through me. It’s clearly very late. Does this mean something awful happened? Something so bad Rowan couldn’t get away until this very second?

The door cracks open before I can say anything, just an inch or so, and I see his face through the opening, his strong jaw, his short beard, that turbulent intensity in his eyes that made me half afraid of him when we first met.

“Rowan,” I say, sitting up in bed.

“You were sleeping.” He shuts the door behind him. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but I knew…”

“Harry,” I say, as worry snakes through me like toxic vines. “How—”

“He’s okay, Princess,” he says, sitting on the edge of my bed and running a hand down my hair. “He’s okay. He was in the emergency room, but—”

“What?” I squawk.

His mouth firms into an angry line. “My grandmother’s a bad woman, Kennedy. She’ll do anything to get what she wants. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

“What’d she do to him?” I ask, horrified.

“She gave him a cream he was allergic to. I guess he slathered it on his face and arms, and he broke out in hives. Oliver went to the hospital with me, and he drove him back to my place. I talked to them both just now, and Harry’s fine.”

“Oh, thank God,” I say, but it registers that Harry’s first romantic encounter with Oliver ended with the gas situation, and their first official date was interrupted by hives. “Poor Harry.”

Rowan strokes my hair again, his fingers brushing my scalp and sending tingles of awareness through me. It suddenly dawns on me that he’s here in my room. Sitting on mybed.

“My sister’s decorating the tree with her boyfriend and his kid, so I guess they helped. Now, they’re watching a movie,” he says, still touching me, like he can’t help it or doesn’t want to. “Oliver’s good at making people comfortable. It’s his gift.” He gives me a wry smile. “One I’d like to borrow from time to time.”

“You make me comfortable,” I say, even though it’s slightly untrue. He unsettles me. He makes me want things. But right now, with his hand in my hair, I’m exactly where I need to be. I pause, soaking him in, then say, “Did you talk to your sisters?”

“I did.” He lowers his hand, and the loss of his warmth feels almost criminal until he leans down to remove his shoes. Once they’re off, he shocks me by lying down on the mattress and pulling me to him. Snuggling me close so my head is tucked under his chin, my back to his hard chest, and his strong arms around me. “Is this okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” I say, because it feels like bliss. I was so alone tonight, so worried and scared. And now I’m engulfed by Rowan’s warmth and scent. I feel safe. I feel cherished. I clear my throat. “How’d it go?”

“It was awful,” he says gruffly, then laughs. “But I guess it was okay, too. Willow…” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I can practically feel the emotion he’s suppressing, a great big cloud of it trapped in his chest. I want to tell him that the people who say men—and “proper little ladies”—shouldn’t express their feelings are full of crap. Those same lessons were poured into my ears ever since I was old enough to understand language, and they never served me or my brothers well. The opposite. If I weren’t afraid he’d stop talking, I’d assure him that he can always be himself around me.

I want to look at him, so I nudge him slightly. He releases me, and I roll onto my side next to him, tugging his arm until he turns to fully face me, our bodies still pressed together.

Lifting a hand to my cheekbone and tracing it, sending out pulses of warmth like sugar dust, he says, “Willow said she wishes it had come out sooner so that I could have gone to live with him like Ivy.” I feel his chest shaking a little, and tears press against my eyes, because I know his sister’s words snarled through him. He swallows. “I told her that of course I wouldn’t have left her. I never would have left her. Then Ivy seemed upset.” He swallows again. “I can’t seem to stop hurting people, Kennedy.”

I lean forward and kiss him because I have to. Because I’ve never wanted to soothe someone so much, to give back to them what they’ve given to me. “Youdidn’t hurt them. None of you are responsible for what your parents did. You were just left to deal with the fallout.”

He nods slightly and pulls me closer. Even as he does it, he says, “I shouldn’t be here, Princess. I know I shouldn’t be here. But I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

“Good. Did you see Jay?”

His jaw firms, but he gives a slight nod. “Yeah, I saw him for a few minutes with my sisters. I…he seems like he’s doing okay. He’s going to make it, but Ivy says he’ll have to retire early. He can’t do site visits anymore. He does environmental site inspection, so that’s his whole job.”

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