Page 12 of Can't Miss Christmas

“My head feels better.” The bowling-ball feeling had lifted, and for the first time since the accident, he felt pretty normal.

“I have to turn the light on again.”

“As you wish.”

She did, and burned a hole through his retinas again, after which he politely thanked her. But then something weird happened.

She started to laugh. Not a ladylike chuckle, or a little giggle, but a loud, snorty laugh. She always laughed like that when she was a little out of control, when she didn’t care who heard her or what she sounded like.

“What is it?” he asked, wondering if he was missing the joke. Or worse, that he was the joke. Booger in his nose? He ran a hand through his hair to try to assess how badly it was sticking up. Between the stitches and rolling around trying to sleep between torture sessions, he guessed pretty badly.

She touched his arm. Her fingers were ice cold.

“It’s just, if I had to describe this situation to someone, I’m not sure I could. The reindeer antlers, the concussion, the iPhone neuro checks. It’s a little…ridiculous.”

He raised a brow. “A little?”

“Oh well.” She left the bed and put a thick, dark gray cowl neck wool sweater over her nightgown. “I’m freezing.”

“Turn up the heat.”

“It’s already on seventy-five, but it feels like sixty in here.”

“It’s the high ceilings and the big windows that you love so much.”

“I’d take character over heat efficiency any day.” Of course she would. She crawled back into bed, tossing her coat on top of the bedspread. “Since it’s technically morning, I’m not waking you up anymore. You’ve officially made it through the night. Now I’m going to get some sleep.”

It would be so easy to make her warm. Plus, there was no way he was going to be able to fall back to sleep. His head felt way better, and that was letting all kinds of other thoughts flood through. About how she’d blinded him, all right. With her phone light and her smile. She made him laugh, just like the old days.

All it would take was one of them reaching out to the other, to tear down the barriers between them. Everything that had happened to them since he’d walked into the bookstore yesterday—maybe it had all happened for a reason. Graham was not a romantic, but he realized he wanted to believe that was so.

His heart was thudding so loud, he could hear it in his ears. “Grace,” he whispered.

But all he heard in return was the soft, deep sound of her breathing.

---