Page 10 of Can't Miss Christmas

While she considered that, he walked up to her and held her by the shoulders. “It’s been a long day,” he said. “I’m sorry for this.”

Up close, she smelled good. She was soft in his arms, and her lips were pink and full, and suddenly, he didn’t care about his head or his exhaustion or the wrecked car. He wanted to kiss her until they forgot about everything and all that remained was the feel of her mouth on his. He wanted to use his mouth and his hands to roam all over her, remembering all her curves and the special places he’d once known better than his own.

Graham dropped his hands before he did something foolish. His brain might have taken a hit, but his dick was functioning just fine, and that was, of course, a problem. Suddenly, the relief he’d felt moments before about finally resting did not feel like relief. At all.

Grace smiled, but he still saw the fatigue in her eyes, the dark circles. “Hey, you took the antler hit,” she said. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I haven’t given up on finding an alternative for you to get to Philly. If we get you on an early bus or train—”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I talked to the hospital publicist in Philly. She canceled the event because they’re expecting eight to ten more inches. So whenever I get there, I’ll go visit all the kids who are stuck on the wards over Christmas and pass out books. It’s not quite the same, but it works.”

He still felt bad about detaining her, but he nodded and moved to unzip his duffel. A wave of dizziness nearly bowled him over, causing him to lean on the bed. He didn’t want to appear weak, so he quickly righted himself and attempted to get his toothbrush again. Suddenly, she was at his side, slipping off his shoes, pulling the covers down. Then she finished opening his bag. He gave in to the room’s swaying and his pounding head and lay down on the bed, which felt like heaven.

“Amid all this precision packing,” she said, rifling through his neatly rolled shirts and underwear, “I’m not seeing any jammies.”

From the pillow, he raised a single brow. The corner of his mouth quirked up a little.

“Oh God. You still don’t wear any, do you?”

“No, but there’s a pair of black sweats in there. And a T-shirt.”

She handed him his clothes and his toothbrush and helped him sit up. After he used the bathroom and collapsed back into bed, she was next to him, holding out her hand, which held two red pills.

He looked up at her. “What are those?”

“Midol.”

“I’m not taking—”

“The ER instructions say take ibuprofen, but this is all I’ve got.”

She stared him down, palm outstretched. Finally, he caved. “Fine.” Anything to take the anvil out of his head. He swallowed the pills and handed her back the water glass, but didn’t release his grip right away. “Thank you,” he said, looking straight at her. “I mean it. For everything.”

Her smile warmed him like a shot of Crown Royal, smooth and shooting straight through his gut.

“Well, I’m going to use the bathroom,” she said, averting her gaze and busily unzipping her suitcase, pulling out clothes and cosmetic cases and even a pair of fur-lined slippers. The suitcase, which was stuffed to the brim, looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Graham couldn’t help chuckling to himself. He couldn’t believe it, but somehow, he missed the chaos.

She, of course, took twenty minutes in the bathroom, even if it was one in the morning, and came out wearing her glasses and a flannel nightgown with red and green fuzzy socks. Her hair was loose and wavy, and seeing her like that brought back a thousand memories. Of that hair wild and flowing around his face as she kissed him. Of him trawling his hands through that luxurious mass of silk.

He’d taken for granted all those regular, run-of-the-mill nights where they’d gone to bed chatting and talking, just their regular bedtime routine. He missed their conversation. And the way he always curved his body around hers and kissed her on the neck before they both drifted off to sleep.

How had he let it all go? How had he lethergo?

She set her phone alarm and crawled under the covers, being careful to keep a good distance between them.

“Grace,” he said, turning off the light.

“What is it?” came from the other side of the bed.

“I’m sorry I never took you to a place like this when we were married.”

“We couldn’tafforda place like this when we were married.”

“I know, but I was always worried about money. Too much. I wish we would’ve had a little more fun.”

He felt her hand squeeze his arm. “Go to sleep, Graham. Everything’s good, you know? So the Christmas program is canceled and you have a concussion. We’re alive and safe and out of the storm. And it’s Christmastime in a pretty little town. Life could be a lot worse, you know.”

“I’m glad I’m stuck here with you.”

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