Page 11 of Stocking Stuffers
Karen and Andie agreed, eating their desserts with relish.
They all sat in comfortable silence. A log rolled in the fireplace and split apart, causing crackles and a slight flare of flames. Karen pulled out her phone and fiddled with it for a few seconds. Then Christmas music floated from its speakers. A Bing Crosby classic.
Perry smiled. There was a blizzard outside, and his whole life was packed into cardboard boxes in the back of his SUV, and he hadn’t told his sister that he’d lost his job, but this—this right here, with Sasha and the Romeros and Bing Crosby—was perfection.
Sasha stood abruptly, like her cushy armchair was on fire. “I need to go.”
“Are you okay?” Perry started to stand, but she waved him down. She finished the rest of her wine in a couple gulps, whichscandalizedhim.
“I should call my sister, let her know what happened. She’ll be worried.” She held up the empty dessert plate and wine glass, as if she’d forgotten they were in her hands. “Uh, I’ll go put these—”
“I’ll take them.” Perry gently removed them from her hold. “No worries.”
She nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” Then she was out of the room, her velvet dress swinging around her thighs.
“Someone’s allergic to Christmas music,” Karen quipped dryly. “Doesn’t take FBI training to see that.”
“She needs a little holiday loving, I bet,” Andie added.
Perry snorted. “Busybodies.” But he couldn’t stop watching the doorway Sasha had left through. What if she was freaked out about being here? What could he do to ease her mind, make her comfortable?
Karen snapped her fingers at him. “Loverboy, go find her. Make sure she’s okay.” She lowered her voice. “Get laid.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll help you two clean up and—”
“We’ll do it,” Andie piped in. “Anyway, we want to make out, and you’re killing the mood.”
Now it was his turn to stand like his seat was on fire. “Fair enough.”
He didn’t actually think he’d find Sasha, especially if she’d retreated to her room, but he didn’t want to cramp Karen and Andie’s style. Both of them had demanding jobs—Karen a FBI analyst and Andie a bartender and PhD student—so maybe they were using their snowed-in status as an excuse for a romantic getaway.
This was a wonderful place for that. In fact, the inn was renowned for the romantic Winterberry Christmas Couples’ Soiree, but he’d never brought a woman to it. It was hard to be romantic at a B and B run by his own sister. As he reached the second-floor landing, movement in a nearby sitting room caught his eye. He peeked through the doorway. The room had no fewer than four small Christmas trees tucked into every available space, and in the corner, there was an old upright piano that was permanently out of key. These trees were strung with red wooden beads and threaded popcorn. A model train set circled the largest pine.
Sasha was as still as an ice sculpture in front of the large window. She’d pulled aside the curtains, and the reflections of the Christmas lights in the glass cast a warm glow around her head, like a halo.
“Snow’s getting worse,” she said, without glancing back at him.
“Seems like it.”
“My sister said the news is calling it a snow-pocalypse. They always say that though, don’t they? Hope they’re exaggerating. I could be stranded here for days, if not.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? At the very least, there will be awesome desserts.”
She turned to him. He sat on the piano bench, facing her.
“There might be other perks as well,” she said softly, her eyes assessing.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep.” She took a few steps until she was standing right in front of his legs.
He had to tip his head back to see her face. Their closeness, the sudden heat between their bodies, his exposed throat—it made his breath catch and hitch with longing. She ran a light fingertip over his Adam’s apple, and he swallowed thickly.
“Follow me, Perry.” She strode from the room, and he did what any person with half a brain would. He obeyed.
He caught up with her at the door to the Blue Spruce Room, where she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside but didn’t close the door behind them.
She let go of his hand and knelt in front of the red roller bags she’d deposited at the foot of her bed. What in the world was she doing?
