Page 29 of Stocking Stuffers
“Did you know mistletoe is a parasite?”
“I did not.How apt that it’s associated with Christmas lovers, then.”
He smiled. “Such a cynic.”
“Guilty.”
“Why do you hate Christmas?” he asked.
“Oh, hitting me with the tough questions.”
She turned away from him and started wandering around the huge farmhouse table. In less than a week, this room would be decked out in hundreds of candles and full of Christmas lovers. The Soiree was quite the romantic event. He suddenly, desperately wished he’d get to share that with Sasha.
Fat chance.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
She shrugged. “In a nutshell—bad memories. And Christmas is inescapable. It’s in every store, every business. There are whole radio stations dedicated to it. It’s hard for me to stomach, that’s all.”
He suspected it went a lot deeper than that, but he wasn’t going to push her.
“What about you? Why do you like Christmas?” she asked him.
“Well, it’s part of my legacy, so there’s that. Christmas has always been important to the inn. But other than that, maybe because it’s romantic. I can sense possibility in the air, you know? Like there’s hope and excitement and love all around, if I look close enough. It feels as if miracles can really happen.” He shook his head. “That sounds corny.”
“No. It’s lovely. I’m glad there are people who aren’t cynical and jaded about Christmas and romance and love. It’s refreshing.”
“I adore traditions too. Growing up, we’d go with our granddad to cut down Christmas trees for every room. He was very particular about picking each tree, and we got apple cider out of the deal. Valerie’s been doing the tree shopping on her own for several years, but I think it’s time to change that. There’s also the Winterberry Christmas Couples’ Soiree. It’s a mini romantic Christmas getaway. Valerie and I used to spy on all the couples dancing and kissing and getting tipsy. I love thinking back on those traditions. They shaped me, for the better.”
She picked at one of her fingernails, not meeting his eye. “That’s nice. My siblings and I don’t have any traditions, period, besides being obnoxious brunch rats.”
“I wish—” He scratched his jaw. “I wish there was something I could do to make you like Christmas. Or to make this one better.”
* * *
Thiswaswhy Sasha didn’t open up, why she didn’t allow anyone in. She didn’t want to hurt this beautiful, giving, romantic man, but she didn’t trust in romance, or love, or relationships. Didn’t want to put herself in a position to be smashed again.
He wanted to make her like Christmas again. That was impossible.
“Well, that orgasm has been the highlight so far,” she said, pulling cheekiness over her like a costume. It worked, because it shattered the uncomfortable intimacy between them, and he took a step back.
A pained expression passed over his handsome face, and her stomach clenched. Resorting to sex and then diminishing the connection created by sex was probably her cruelest habit, but it also protected her.
This had gotten way too personal for Sasha’s taste, so she left the formal dining room, pausing in a hallway to get her bearings. He followed her after a few seconds, appearing way more composed.
Perry made her feel safe. Safe to talk about her fears, her dreams, her goals, and she couldn’t handle that. She wasn’t sure what was causing it, what made him special. Maybe it was their circumstances—snowed-in at a cozy inn with a bag of sex toys to keep them busy. Or maybe it was because Christmas was only days away, and the spirit of the season was dimming her higher functioning brainpower, muddying her normal cynicism with festive happiness.
Yuck.
If life had taught her one thing, it was that the love and happiness surrounding Christmas was a total farce.
She was gearing up to retreat to her room, alone, when Valerie waltzed out of the kitchen with a plate of goodies and nearly tripped over Perry’s feet.
“Oh, there you two are!” Valerie said. “I was about to send out a search party. You missed lunch.”
The mention of food, as well as the aroma of pastry, hit Sasha like a big red sleigh. Her stomach growled loudly, and Valerie laughed.
“Here, try one of these. It’s a goat cheese and fig tart with a honey glaze, and I have tea sandwiches in the kitchen.”
