Page 80 of Cowboy SEAL Christmas

“What’s so funny about that? Catsarecreepy. You never hear them coming, and they have those eyes that glow and just…stare.”

When he finally stopped laughing, he grinned, twirling a piece of hair around his finger. “That’s just exactly what I told Bec when she informed me I was living under the same roof as a cat. Not that I’ve ever seen said cat, thank God.”

“Oh God. Becca’s cat?” She shuddered for dramatic effect. “It has these weird, yellow eyes that glow, and I swear, with enough plotting, it could eat your heart out before you even woke up.”

“You’ve seen the fabled Hannibal?”

Monica nodded. “On the day of the wedding, we helped Becca get all the dresses out of her closet upstairs, and there he was. Glowing, creepy cat eyes ready to like…pounce and eat my soul.”

“But is it creepier than the goat?”

Monica fisted a hand to her heart. “How dare you insult Ron Swanson?”

“I’m deeply, deeply sorry for such an affront.”

Then they were both laughing, wrapped up in each other and a million blankets, warm in this little world they’d built while outside it was frigidly cold.

She wanted this. Camaraderie. A relationship. All those things she’d had with Dex. This was different. Gabe was different—shewas different. But she wanted that experience again. Someone in her life. A partner. Since Dex’s death, no one else had even come close to making her want that.

Of course, the man who did… She wanted to laugh for a completely different reason. He wouldn’t agree to it in a million years.

But why was that? He didn’t want to settle down or build what his friends had, but why? Was it as simple as not wanting something, or did it go deeper, into all the ways he’d been hurt growing up?

Well, maybe that’d be her question for tomorrow.

He dropped a casual kiss to her temple. “I need coffee,” he said on a yawn. He unraveled himself from her and the blankets, and got out of bed, cursing as he walked to the kitchen, presumably at the cold.

She watched him in her kitchen, gathering the things he’d need, then fiddling with the coffeepot. As if he belonged there, doing little things for her—for them. She wanted him to belong there.

“We’re going to have to make an effort to get out of here today,” he stated casually.

It hurt, of course, that after everything, he’d still be eager to get out of here. But beneath the hurt was also a panic.

She didn’t want to lose this. A man in her kitchen making her coffee in the morning. A man who held her when she cried over feeling like a failure to her son. A man who relaxed when she traced his jaw.

Every second of being with him only reinforced what she wanted. What she was starting to think sheneeded—a partnership,thispartnership. She liked it. It made her feel good, and it didn’t stop things from hurting. In fact, some things hurt worse.

But then he held her. Kissed her or made her coffee and… There had to be some way…some way. She just had to figure out how to get through to him.

“Why today?” she asked, attempting to sound as casual as he had.

“We’ll run out of firewood if we’re not careful. Who knows when the power will come back, and I don’t particularly want to freeze to death. Seems like a nasty way to go.”

“Well, there are a few piles of wood in the back. They’re just under approximately eighty gajillion feet of snow.”

“Eighty gajillionisthe scientific term. I don’t know how much good it’ll do if it’s wet, but we can give it a shot. All else fails, if we can manage a path to the Shaws’ we can see if they have any extra wood or if they have power.”

Monica scooted beneath the blanket, trying to hide the wide grin splitting her face. He wasn’t trying to escape. He just wanted wood. It was a good sign. A positive sign that if she found the right combination of words, she could convince him that they could find a way to work things out.

Telling him she had fallen in love with him was certainly not the right tack to take, but if they had time, if he wasn’t running away, she could find the right path, the right words.

She could find them a chance.

Chapter 21

Gabe frowned at the white, fluffy hat Monica handed him.

“I’m not wearing that. I have a hood. And I’m a man.”

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