Page 73 of No Room in the Inn

I have to get out of here before I do something dumb like kiss him. I thrust the folder at him. “Here’s all the paperwork for the inn,” I say quickly. “Sign it and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He takes the folder, frowning as he looks at it. “Get out of my—wait,” he says, looking back up at me, his eyes widening. “Are you leaving?”

“Of course I am,” I say. My heart rebels at that, but what else am I supposed to do?

“Don’t. Don’t leave,” he says, stepping closer. “Please.”

I swallow. “I have to.” My voice is quiet and not at all as sure as I’d like it to be.

And Nixon picks up on that. He looks me dead in the eye and says, “Do you, though? What’s waiting for you in St. Louis? Chauncey? A job?”

He makes it sound more pathetic than it is. “I have to go,” I say again.

“Can you just tell me why?” Nixon says, and there’s frustration in his voice now.

I sigh. “Why should I stay, Nixon?”

He doesn’t answer, and my heart falls.

Truthfully, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to St. Louis. I’ve grown attached to Nixon and the inn. I love being so close to Sarah. I want to try to mend my relationship with my parents. But if Nixon can’t tell me how he feels, and if he’s going to run off every time there’s a misunderstanding…I can’t work with that. And sticking around, working with him at the inn? It would be torture under those circumstances.

“Okay, this conversation is getting us nowhere,” I say when he just continues to look at me, his face pained. “If you can’t give me a reason, we’re done.” My heart breaks when I say this. I don’t know when Nixon got enough of my heart to break it, but he did.

I turn to leave, fighting tears. But I’ve only made it two steps before Nixon grabs me by the elbow, spins me around, and pulls me into his arms.

Chapter 33

Nixon

Willow in my arms is everything.

She collides into me, looking startled. The feel of her body pressed against mine, the faint scent of cherries, the way her hands come to rest on my chest—she’s intoxicating. She’s stubborn and feisty and somehow vulnerable at the same time, and I can’t get enough.

I cup her face in my hands, stroking my thumbs over her soft skin.

“Nixon,” she whispers, and I’m hit with a flash of desire when her gaze drops to my lips.

“Hmm?” I say, sliding my hand into her hair. It’s silky perfection.

She licks her lips, and my eyes follow the movement, more heat rising within me. I fight the urge to kiss her, to claim her as mine, because she seems to want to say something.

“Give me a reason,” she says, her voice husky in a way that makes me shiver. Her gaze finally comes back to mine. Can she feel my heart racing?

I swallow. “I have feelings for you,” I say. “Big, scary feelings. And I don’t want you to leave because if you leave…” I trail off, my gaze flitting to her lips. “If you leave I can’t date you. I won’t see you. My reasons are selfish. They’re purely selfish.”

And without waiting any longer, I kiss her.

We come together in a whirlwind of heat and chaos as the space between us disappears. Her lips are fire as they dance with mine, her arms wrapping around my neck as she leans into me. I slide my arms around her waist and try to pull her closer, ever closer, but she’s as near as she can get.

It’s not enough. It will never be enough. I deepen the kiss, clinging desperately to her. Her hands move to my face, and all I can think is that I hope she never kissed Chauncey like this. Her lips are claiming mine in ways I’ve never experienced, the flames within me growing ever higher.

I break away with a gasp, because too much longer and I won’t have the strength to break away at all. I can feel her ragged breathing against my lips as I rest my forehead against hers, and my heart is racing.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Willow. I was stupid for leaving without talking to you.” And I mean every word.

“I forgive you,” she says, smiling.

That smile is the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen, and her forgiveness is the best Christmas gift she could ever give me.

---