Page 12 of Storybook Christmas

FINN AND Iare in my office, staring at Winnie’s manuscript. I’m not sure what time it is, but I know the sun went down hours ago. I’m afraid to check the clock because I have a feeling that it’s better if I don’t know.

This manuscript’s close to being finished, but there are a couple things that still aren’t clicking.

Finn scrubs his chin, leaning back in the guest chair he has next to mine so he can see my screen. “What about changing the word, ‘stole,’ to ‘pilfered?’” he asks, nodding to my monitor.

I don’t answer because I’m staring at his wrist, which has an intricate leather friendship bracelet on it. I point to it, saying, “I like that.”

He twists it. “Oh, yeah? Thanks. My grams made it. She loves crafting these.”

He’s wearing a bracelet his grandmother made? How can Inotbe charmed by that? I lean in to study it. “Look at the details. She’s very talented.”

“She’s got that artistic eye.”

I want to ask him more about her, but he’s returned his gaze to the manuscript, studying it with intensity, and it reminds me that we need to stay on task. “I don’t think we should use ‘pilfered.” It’s too big of a word for a children’s novel. Given the simplicity and spunky tone of this book, ‘swiped’ works better.”

Finn looks at me, his eyes bright. “That’s perfect. ‘Swiped.’ Why didn’t I think of that?”

I shrug. “It just comes with experience, believe me.”

“I don’t know about that. But when you first gave this manuscript back to me, I hadn’t seen so much red on my papers since Ms. McKenzie, my eighth-grade grammar teacher, had it out for me because I disrupted her class.” His mouth quirks up.

I let out a soft chuckle.

“Anyway, I gotta be honest. Your edits were a hit to the ego—at first. But what you did was incredible.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks go hot. It’s difficult for me to take compliments from anyone, but it’s even more so with Finn. I decide I’m too tired to over-analyze that.

Finn leans forward on my desk, and his scent of soap and Christmas tickles my nose. I’ve never thought editing was sexy before now, which is weird because Joshua and I edited together all the time. I don’t remember it ever being like this, but there’s just something about Finn. His rich, baritone voice. His calming scent and presence. His genuine nature.

I roll my neck, which is killing me. It’s so tight, it could shatter. Finn must notice, because he holds his palms up.

He asks, “Do you need a shoulder rub? I’m really good at getting knots out.”

“Is that so? A lot of experience, huh?” I regret the words as soon as I say them. I didn’t mean that as a dig about his other profession.

But before I can apologize, Finn stands and says, “My grams has a lot of muscle and joint pain.”

“Oh.” The pinch of regret in my gut twists tighter. “That’s really nice of you to help out your grandmother…” I trail off, my head fogging.

He’s working the knot at the base of my neck and between my shoulder blades, first kneading gently, then more firmly. And it feels incredible.

My breath catches and my temperature rises as the heat of his hands seeps into my clothes.

Slowly, Finn moves his palms across my shoulder, making long, deep strokes as his breath tickles the hairs on the back of my neck.

I close my eyes as every bone in my body relaxes.

“Oh my…” I slur.

“Told you.” Finn gives my shoulders an extra squeeze. “I’ve got skills.”

“Not gonna argue.”

When he returns to sit in his chair that’s now facing me, there’s something about the way he’s studying my face that tells me this is much more than a conversation about massaging.

He’s got that natural touch, and admittedly, it’s wildly sensual. Or, at least, it is to me.

My cheeks flush hotter. Maybe I’m imagining the look I see in his eyes, or maybe it’s an echo of the way I wish Joshua had looked at me—even once—during all the years we were together.

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