Page 11 of Christmas Escape
I went through my morning ritual for getting ready and, before long, was padding downstairs with damp hair and feeling ready for whatever the day brought. It had to be better than yesterday. Though, admittedly, it hadn’t been a complete wash. It had brought me Melody.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, and I poured myself a cup then leaned against the counter and stared absently at the tree in the living room, my vision softening to the point the lights were just a fuzzy glow. As I breathed deeply, I let meditative peace fill me. Today would be a great day.
After I started Christmas music quietly streaming through my speakers, I pulled the breakfast casserole from the fridge and set it on the counter to ready it for the oven. Theworkingoven. Which warmed up just fine. I smiled, anticipating the hot meal. Hopefully, Melody was a fan of eggs, cheese and sausage, like I was.
The shower went on upstairs, and my smile widened as I envisioned Melody, naked and warm from sleep, stepping beneath the spray. I shouldn’t be imagining it, but fuck, I was a guy. My brain went there, and my dick responded. As clearly as if I stood there watching, I visualized the water sluicing over her lush curves, teasing the pert peaks of her breasts.
My hands would follow the liquid trail, slipping over the wetness. Did she have any birthmarks or freckles on her creamy skin? I desperately wanted to find out. Something about Melody sang to me in a way that no one else ever had.
Her name was appropriate. She was a siren. The cadence and sweet timbre of her voice could call me to do anything. She had a power I doubted she even knew she possessed. Hadn’t it called me to go out in a blizzard, just to make her happy? Kept me awake last night? Had me anticipating the time with her this morning?
Shaking my head, knowing I had to get myself under control. I pulled the casserole off the counter, now that it had sufficient time to get slightly less frigid, and put it in the oven. Afterward, I grabbed some plates and silverware to set the table. I needed to keep busy, because I knew I could easily stand there all day, thinking about Melody—thinkinginappropriatethoughts about her to be more specific.
Thing was, I could easily see me there with her. I could easily see many Christmas mornings—hell,anymorning—with her. But she was only here on vacation. Could I change that? She didn’t have a job to tie her down to wherever she lived on the other side of the state. Her job was portable. Could she be convinced to stay past the end of her planned vacation? To permanently get away from the unhappiness she’d been escaping?
Fuck, was this what my parents had always spoken about? The immediate knowing? That instant connection? I’d met Melody all of maybe eighteen hours ago, and I was already contemplating forever.
Forever.
I rolled the word over and over in my head, and not a single thing about it triggered worry or urged me to run. The only negative that arose was the possibility she wouldn’t be on the same page as me. I couldn’t rush. God alone knew what I’d do if I sent her running in panic because she thought I was a madman.
Honestly, I was about one of the most down-to-earth people she’d ever meet.
When I heard her coming downstairs, I picked up my coffee, sipping it nonchalantly while I watched the landing over the rim of the cup. Her dark hair was piled atop her head, her face free of any makeup. She’d put on red-flannel jammie pants and a large red sweatshirt with a goofy reindeer on the front and…
She looked fucking gorgeous.
“Coffee…” she murmured, her voice raspy from disuse.
“I made a whole pot. There’s a mug in front of it.”
“Thank God.”
I smiled as she shuffled toward the coffee, poured some in the mug then rooted around in the fridge, making herself at home and pulling out creamer. She held up the fancy peppermint variety I always bought this time of year, then doused her coffee. “I love this stuff. If I can’t get Starbucks…”
I mentally added more peppermint creamer, as well as an hour-long trip to Lake Placid to visit the closest Starbucks, to my to-do list for the week. Melody might enjoy the sights, anyway.
“What is this sorcery?” she exclaimed, bending to look through the oven window. My gaze immediately went to her round little ass. I unconsciously licked my lips before I caught myself.
“Fixed it.” And now, my voice was raspy, but it wasn’t from sleep. God, she turned me on.
“Fixed it? How? And whatever it is smells really good, too.”
“After you went to bed, I went over to the cabin of doom and stole parts from the oven.”
“You…were fixing appliances after I went to bed?”
It wasn’t as much a question as it was a surprised observation. I lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug.
“And you were up cooking this morning?”
“As much as I’d like to take credit, I mostly just took it out of the fridge. My mom put it together and left it here since she knew I wouldn’t be over to their house this morning. Breakfast casserole is kind of a Christmas morning tradition in my family.”
“Your mom cooks for you?”
I laughed. “No. Just this. She knew a storm was coming and went into a tizzy. She probably left a casserole at my sister’s house, too.”
Her eyebrow rose, her lips curling in amusement. “A tizzy? People use that word?”
