Page 29 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

I was suddenly aware of my shortness of breath, from being in this awkward physical position and from this conversation. “I … no? I mean, no.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “You have … you have snow on your face. Let me help you sit up.” He slid off me, to the side, and then pulled me up by the arms. We were sitting close now, and he pulled the warm, dry part of his scarf from within his jacket and started using it to gently wipe my face.

Finally his movements slowed and eventually stopped. “There,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “All better.”

I swallowed with some effort, my eyes bouncing between his. Memorizing every detail of his face, which I knew I’d never see again this close. I didn’t even want to, I reminded myself.

Then I saw his eyes drop, and I knew he was looking at my lips. Before I could tell myself I absolutely shouldn’t do the same, my eyes darted to his full lips, which were slightly parted and dark pink from the cold.

Without thinking, I licked my lips a little. I think he leaned in ever so slightly, but it might have been me.

Words were hard, and my body didn’t want to produce any. But I managed to say, “Terry.” At least I think so—some kind of vocal word-like sound.

He blinked a few times and then inhaled sharply, turning his head. After a long moment, he began to move away. When he looked back at me, he asked, “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” I said, my voice hoarse. I coughed a bit to clear my throat. “A few more bruises won’t kill me.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Uh, thank you.”

“Welcome,” he muttered, offering me a hand to stand up, but I ignored it to get up on my own.

What had just happened?Almosthappened?

Had we almost just kissed?

Or was I imagining it?

Oh my god, what if I had almost just kissedhimand he wasn’t interested at all?

Regardless, what a massive mistake that would’ve been.

Thank goodness he stopped it.

I should’ve stopped it though. Oh, why didn’t I stop it? Why have I suddenly been having all these physical feelings around him? I don’t like him, so I can’t lust after him, can I?

I had no answers, but I knew one thing with certainty. This could never, ever happen again.

Chapter 10

Ilooked in my rearview mirror for the third time, making sure I didn’t have any crumbs on my face or food between my teeth. I’d stress eaten the entire five-minute drive to the shop, which wouldn’t seem like much time, but let’s just say I’d finished off more cookies than I’d ever admit to.

I wasn’t proud.

But damn, they were delicious.

Hazel had spent the morning with me cutting out, baking, and frosting these amazing Christmas cookies that I was about to deliver.

Unfortunately, I was left to deliver the cookies solo, as she had a business meeting in Minneapolis early tomorrow morning, and with the recent snow, she wanted to leave early and spend the night.

So, yeah. I was going to show up, unannounced, yet again, at Terry’s place of work. Jane’s too, because Hazel had said they would both be working—apparently she got a lot of info out of Jane yesterday when I’d been off nearly making a huge mistake in the woods.

At least this time though, I was delivering delicious treats, and I was hoping that would make them hate me just a little less. Even a little less. That would be a win, right? I’d take anything at this point. I was showing up near closing time so it would seem like rewarding the shop staff, and who knows, maybe Jane and Terry would be free to talk a bit afterward. I never really got a chance to talk to Jane about my ideas yesterday during the festival; by the time I finally had a chance, she’d pleaded tiredness and asked to go home.

With not a little trepidation, I parked my car, quite a distance from the shop front, since it was busy season. After retrieving the small suitcase full of goodies from the car, I made my way slowly to the front door. The last thing I needed was another embarrassing fall and awkward bruise.

Reaching the door, I took a deep breath, telling myself it would be fine. People love cookies. Even I couldn’t bungle this, could I? As I was about to grab the door handle though, balancing the suitcase in my other arm, some customers opened the door fast. It was either me or the cookies, and I chose to save the cookies.

So there I was, on the ground again. Ouch. But the cookies were in my lap, safe. One of the customers was kind enough to apologize and help me up, and when I turned to go inside, that’s when I saw it.

A full-on smile. Was he laughing? Or trying not to? I don’t know, but that smile …

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