Page 13 of Never Sleigh Never

The overwhelming desire to erase the gap between us and pull Cara back into my arms is the only thing I can focus on. Until she spins to flee, and I realize the truth. She can’t wait to escape my company.

“Goodnight, Thomas,” she stammers over her shoulder, her voice tinged with an emotion I can’t quite decipher.

Before I can respond, her red taillights are fading from view, and I’m left standing there alone, with a boner stiffer than a steel pipe. The warmth of her body still clings to my skin, and the scent of peppermint and paint lingers in the air. My mind races with possibilities I’d never before let myself consider, but I swallow them down. Cara might be single, but it’s clear as day she’s not interested.

I’m not the type of guy she’d ever look twice at. We might both live in Magnolia Point, but we’re sure as hell from differentworlds. She’s all sparkle and sunshine, and I’m… Well, I’m not. Plus, as I told her just the other day, I barely have time to sleep these days, let alone date. Or help plan holiday festivals. Although I guess some things do change.

Cara

The boutique’s holiday playlisthas cycled through at least twice today, but I can relate to Mariah Carey and all she wants for Christmas as I ring up another purchase. My gaze keeps drifting across the street to Lowcountry Lumber and Hardware, and I have to force myself to focus on the transaction at hand.

Fortunately, the trio of ladies I’m helping is too busy debating whether to grab some dinner or hit another shop before they call it a day to notice. I hand over their wrapped purchases. “Have a great evening.”

The bell above the door jingles as they make their way out, and I glance around. The boutique has been bustling with holiday shoppers all day and looks as if a tornado has blown through. But the real reason for my distraction is a certain hardware store owner I can’t get out of my mind.

Thomas and the generous bulge in his jeans that pressed against me last night when he held me tight, that is. The stiff length definitely wasn’t a figment of my imagination. And the realization Thomas is attracted to me made me feel sexy in ways I haven’t felt in a long time. Because he’s so…rugged and gruff and I could see him being rough—in the best possible way—in bed. But there’s also the generous, thoughtful side to him I can’t help but think would make him a generous lover. The kind of man who makes sure his partner is taken care of. Nothing like Wayne, who didn’t notice I didn’t finish half the time.

But if Thomas was interested, why hasn’t he dropped by? And it’s that question—and the way my panties are wet thinking about him all day long—that has me inventing increasingly ridiculous reasons to pop over to the hardware store as I straighten up. Maybe, I need some lightbulbs or perhaps a new hammer for hanging garlands?

But each time I’ve been ready to head out the door today, I’ve talked myself out of it. Because Thomas is helping me with the festival. He’s there to support the community, not deliver the orgasm I’m craving.

Even if his words from last night still echo in my head. “He’s an idiot if he doesn’t realize how lucky he was.” The gruff sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes…it’s all I can think about. Which is ridiculous, because I’ve sworn off men. Evenrugged, flannel-wearing hardware store owners, who smell like sawdust and make my heart race and my lady parts throb when they’re not supposed to.

Once the clock hits eight, I flip the sign on the door and start closing out the register, but my gaze keeps drifting to the warm glow radiating from the hardware store windows. Thomas and I texted earlier today about festival business. We updated the running to-do list we have going, but I was tempted to add another item on his list todo. Me.

Before I can overthink it any longer, I grab my coat and lock the door behind me then hurry across the street. After all, we’re two consenting adults who clearly have chemistry. Plus, I swore off dating men, not sleeping with them, right?

The night is crisp, the air carrying the scent of pine and smoke. I have a fireplace at home, but I never light it. I’ve always figured once I had a man, he’d take care of that. Kind of like outdoor grilling. But maybe, it’s time I learn to do it myself. My heels click on the sidewalk, and I have to resist the urge to smooth my hair or check my lipstick.This isn’t a date, I remind myself sternly. I’m just…checking on festival preparations and feeling him out, right?

Inside the hardware store, I’m immediately enveloped by warmth and the comforting smell of lumber. And I notice a massive Christmas tree in the corner that most certainly wasn’t here the other night. It’s fresh, fragrant, and twinkling with white lights.

“Can I help you?” a voice asks, and I turn to see Brad, one of Thomas’s employees.

“Oh, I was just looking for Thomas,” I reply, trying to sound casual. “About the festival. And,” I add quickly, “some firewood, too.”

Brad shakes his head. “Thomas is out on a delivery. Not sure when he’ll be back. But I can help you with the firewood.”

Five minutes later, I’m at the register buying a bundle of firewood and a package of fire starter logs. After paying for my purchases, I gesture to the Christmas tree. “That’s new, isn’t it?”

He shoots a glance at it. “Yeah, Thomas put it up this morning. Said something about new traditions.”

My heart does a little flip at his words, but I push the feeling aside. “Well, it’s beautiful. Have a good night!”

I hurry out of the store, struggling under the weight of my load, disappointment rocketing through my core. Here I am sworn off men but acting like a hormone-crazed teen with her first crush.

Once home, I change into my coziest, reindeer-covered flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks. I pour a generous glass of merlot and cue upHome Aloneon the TV, determined to distract myself with holiday cheer I can recite from memory.

One glass turns into two as I laugh at Kevin’s antics. But maybe, I shouldn’t have turned on a movie I’ve seen a hundred times because it doesn’t hold my attention. My wandering thoughts return to Thomas and the way his muscles flexed through his flannel shirt when he was working on the lights last night. The rare, genuine smile that makes me feel seen in ways I haven’t in a long time. The warmth of his body when I tripped, and he caught me against him…

Shaking my head, I pause the movie and head to the fireplace. Carefully, so as not to break a nail, I arrange a few pieces of firewood in the grate, then pick up the fire starter log, squinting at the tiny print on the wrapper. As I’m trying to decipher the instructions, there’s a knock at the door.

Frowning, I pad to the entryway. Who could be stopping by at this hour? Gabby surely would have called or texted first. I open the door, and my jaw drops.

Thomas is standing in the glow of my porch light, looking deliciously rumpled in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolledup. His worn ball cap is twisted in his hands, and his hair is deliciously mussed.

“Thomas?” I squeak, my heart rate spiking as I’m suddenly very aware I’m in pajamas with reindeer on them. “What are you doing here?”

“Brad said you stopped by. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”

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