Page 11 of Christmas Replay
I wasn’t surprised. If he had really been working as hard as he’d said, this first day off was probably needed to rest.
I crept down the hallway into the kitchen, deciding that since I didn’t have a gift for him to open on Christmas, the least I could do was to make him breakfast.
After opening every cupboard and inspecting the stocked pantry, I pulled out what I needed and got to work. His agency had done a remarkable job, and he had everything on hand that was needed for homemade cinnamon rolls.
I made myself at home in his space and got to work. I softened butter with a trick my grandma had taught me, using warm glasses over each stick so it wouldn’t melt but would become pliable quickly.
As I thought about her, I couldn’t help smiling. I wondered what she would think of this situation. In high school, I used to whine that all of my friends had boyfriends and that I was going to die alone. But she would always insist that when the right man came along, I would know, and all the waiting would be worth it.
I had a feeling she’d known what she was talking about, and Cliff was that right man.
Once the dough had proofed, I got to work, rolling and seasoning until I had brought six massive cinnamon rolls together and popped them into the preheated oven.
After setting the timer on my phone, I wandered out into the living room, turning on the lights before curling up on the sofa with a cup of coffee.
As the smell of cinnamon filled the house, I realized that I felt at home here. I really could envision Cliff and I making wonderful memories together in this place. More Christmases. Fourth of July barbecues. Birthdays and anniversaries.
We had a long way to go before we could jump into forever. But the fact that forever was there, right in front of us, was comforting.
I’d known the night I met him, when he kissed me, that it had changed my life forever. Last year, I hadn’t known how. But now…now, I knew he was my right guy.
“Good morning,” Cliff said softly.
“Hey,” I answered, turning a smile to him. “How did you sleep?”
“Great,” he admitted. “Is there coffee?”
I jumped to my feet to head toward the kitchen to get him a cup, but he stepped in my way, blocking me.
“You don’t have to get it for me,” he said, his lips quirking up into a smirk. “It’s your day off, too.”
“Force of habit,” I said with a laugh. “I serve coffee twelve hours a day. I’m like one of Pavlov’s dogs. You ask if there’s coffee, and I fix you coffee.” I shrugged. “Let me. I need to check on breakfast, anyway.”
“You made breakfast?” His eyes widened, then he inhaled deeply. “Oh, yeah, you did. Is that cinnamon rolls?”
“Indeed. I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen.” I stepped around him to head to the coffeemaker, and he followed, rushing past me to pour himself a cup. “You’re a goof.”
“I don’t want you waiting on me,” he insisted with a shrug. “And you didn’t have to make breakfast.”
“I wanted to,” I admitted. “Fresh cinnamon rolls on Christmas is pretty much required.”
“I never knew that,” he said, smiling over the rim of his mug before taking a sip. “You’ll have to teach me the ways of Christmas, I guess. I always ate cereal, so my mom couldn’t use breakfast as an excuse to delay present opening.”
“Wow, you were a lawyer all the way back then, huh?” I grinned at him.
“Guilty.”
I shook my head then opened the oven, poking at one of the rolls. It sprang back immediately, so I pulled the tray from the rack and set it on the stove to cool.
When I turned around, Cliff was standing immediately in front of me. His arms went around my waist, and he pulled me into him, lowering his face and dropping a soft kiss onto my lips.
“Merry Christmas” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas,” I agreed.
Our mouths met again, his tongue sliding against the seam of my lips until I opened to him. My chest pressed against his, and I could feel his erection grow hard against me. I moaned into his mouth as the kiss deepened further, our hands roaming each other’s arms and backs.
I jumped at the sound of an airhorn going off, and we broke apart quickly, each of us looking around for the source of the sound.
