Page 10 of Christmas Escape
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“It’s fine,” I promised him. “It’s just lasagna.”
“Not for dinner,” he whispered. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, his fingers locked together as he stared down at them. “I feel like I’ve made a mess of your vacation. Forcing you to stay here with me, yeah…and ruining dinner.”
“First of all… You didn’t force me to do anything,” I reminded him. “And I like being here. Maybe, being alone for Christmas was a bad idea. At least, now, I have a friend.”
“Yeah.” He puffed out a heavy breath. “Friends are good.” When he turned his head to meet my gaze, frown lines had deepen around his eyes. “Friends is good.”
I wanted to kiss him. It would be so easy. If I just tilted toward him, our lips would meet, and I knew it would be amazing.
But I couldn’t do it.
“I should get to bed,” I said, shooting to my feet and smoothing my hands over my thighs. “I’ve been up for like thirty-six hours, and that drive took a lot out of me.”
“Of course,” he said, standing, as well. “I shouldn’t have kept you up. Let me know if you need anything. More pillows or blankets or towels or anything.”
“Thank you. For everything.” I winked. “Even the lasagna.”
I headed into the house, closing the door to the porch behind me. I was glad he hadn’t followed me inside. I was dangerously close to making a fool of myself, and there was no way I could stay here if I threw myself at him and he declined.
Yes, he’d said I was pretty. And he was model-perfect in a very lumbersexual kind of way. The way the thermal under his flannel hugged his muscular torso… Damn. And a few times, I was fairly sure he’d been flirting with me. I had no way of knowing if that was just the way he was with all women, though, or if he was actually interested in me. Honestly, I was kind of oblivious to stuff like that, something my friends liked to laugh about and embarrassed me.
Even if he was flirting, I wasn’t a fling kind of girl. Sure, I’d had a couple experiences in college, things that hadn’t been great and I’d rather forget about. Since then, I’d never so much as kissed a guy. It just wasn’t me. I really didn’t think I could fall into bed with Caleb then go home as if nothing had happened.
We’d be better off if we kept ourselves in the friend zone. Like he’d said…friends is good. I didn’t have a ton of those either, so it wouldn’t be wise to scoff at his offer of friendship.
In my room, I changed into pajamas then climbed into the cozy bed, snuggling beneath the quilt. As I smoothed my hand over the stitching, I smiled. His mom had probably made it. She seemed like the sort of woman who made quilts.
My mother made a mean vodka gimlet.
Not really the same, but we all had our gifts.
When I closed my eyes, I was surprised to feel a tear slip down my cheek. I wiped it away and sighed.
Exhaustion. That’s all this was. I’d had a really long day—two days, actually. These feelings for Caleb, whatever they were, would probably fade after a good night’s sleep.
But as tired as I was, I lay awake for a long while, my feelings leaking down my cheeks to my pillow, without understanding why I was crying at all.
Six
Caleb
After Melody went to bed, I paced the kitchen for a while, overall frustrated with everything. This day had simply been a mess. I’d told my parents not to rent out that cabin yet, but the service they used had done it anyway. I’d found out at the last second and busted my rear to get things squared away.
It took about ten minutes of walking from one end of the house to the other before I did the dumbest yet smartest thing I’d done all day. With the way things had gone since morning, it was par for the course. Despite the blizzard, I hopped into my four-wheel drive truck, built for off-roading, and drove back to the infamous cabin. I couldn’t fix the problems over there, but I could snake the parts I needed to fix my oven. As foolhardy as it was to go out in the storm, Melody and I couldn’t go days without a functioning oven.
An hour and a half later, I was back home and my oven was working. Twenty minutes after that, I’d set up her little tree in the four-season room and strung twinkle lights around the windows. The rest of my house was already decorated. Though I lived alone, I liked to make things festive for myself. With Melody there, I was even more thankful that I’d done that.
I left the tree lit, in case she got up before me, programmed the coffeemaker then headed to bed where I tossed and turned forhours, doing little more than dozing. I was too keyed up by the woman in the next room.
At five a.m., I was wide awake as usual. With my arms behind my head, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the hours ahead. I had to make them better than yesterday had been. It was Christmas. I didn’t have a lot of traditions other than spending the afternoon with my family.
I wouldn’t mind making new traditions with Melody.
My eyes widened. Where hadthatthought come from?
Even as I scoffed at the idea, I rolled over and swung my legs out of bed. My random musing was true. Iwouldlike to explore new holiday customs with my houseguest.
