Page 27 of Welcome Home for Christmas
Her hand went to his chest as she braced herself in the magic of their kiss.
Pulling away, he held her gaze. She could disappear there in the myriad of browns that colored his eyes.
Then Troy turned and offered his hand to her mother. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Carmichael.”
“Dr. Pierce, actually. I’m remarried,” she explained, sliding a glance at Allison.
Crap, crap, double crap.Her mother had caught Troy not knowing the most basic of information. Allison and her mother didn’t share the same last name because Allison had kept her birth father’s name. The father who’d walked out on her and rarely looked back. The one who refused to give up his parental rights when her stepfather had tried to adopt her.
Troy didn’t look fazed. “Right. Can I bring anything to the party? I make a mean cheese dip.”
“Just bring my daughter,” her mother said, her expression unreadable. Had she sniffed out the truth already? Would she still believe Allison was dating Troy?
Allison prayed that she would be fooled, mainly because if she wasn’t, the whole charade was off. And Allison didn’t want it to be off. She liked the idea of having Troy by her side this coming weekend. She liked the idea that he might just kiss her again.
“Will do.” Troy gave her one more quick look that curled her toes inside her slippers, waved, and stepped onto the porch, closing the front door behind him.
Allison hesitantly turned to her mother, who arched an eyebrow.
Allison held her breath. Here it came. Her mother knew the truth. Two people who were dating would know the details about each other’s childhoods. Why hadn’t she shared her birth father’s abandonment with Troy?
“I don’t want to see you get hurt again,” her mother finally said quietly. “Getting involved with the wrong man can change your life, Allison. That’s why I look out for you so much. I love you too much to allow you to make the same mistakes that I did.”
A soft exhale fell over Allison’s lips. Her mother wasn’t suspicious. “Troy won’t hurt me, Mom.” She wouldn’t let him. Hurting her would mean she’d have to let him get close. And that kiss was as close as she intended to let Troy get.
—
After work Monday night, Troy grabbed his home security supplies and drove the short distance to Allison’s home. He climbed the steps and knocked on her door three times. She must have been waiting for him because the door opened before he could retrieve his hand from the metallic surface of the door.
“Hi.” She smiled brightly, looking genuinely happy to see him.
“I’ve come to make sure you’re safe and secure tonight.”
She waved him in. “Thanks for doing this. I’ve seen the police patrolling through here a couple times since I’ve gotten home from the Veterans’ Center. But I’d still feel much better with some kind of security system installed.”
Troy set his bag on the ground. “It’ll take an hour max. You can get on with whatever you typically do. Pretend like I’m not even here.”
Thoughts of that purple vibrating wand in her bedside drawer flashed through his mind. That was one of the things he’d discovered she typically did when she was alone. Something that had been driving his imagination wild ever since.
“I was actually about to start cooking dinner. Can you stay and eat? I need to repay you somehow.”
Troy looked up. There were a lot of ways he could think of to repay him. “Sure.”
“Great.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
He nodded, not looking up from his bag. He needed to focus. Regroup. Allison had his head spinning. He needed to do something with his hands to work off his excess energy.
The woman in the next room was a look-but-don’t-touch variety, he told himself, securing an alarm to her front door. He didn’t want to be like the last jerk off she’d dated, or the ones before that. He guessed he’d been the same kind of jerk to Jess once upon a time.
After securing the front door, he headed to do the same to the back door, casting a longing glance at the nightstand drawer as he passed by the bedroom.
Focus, Matthews.
When everything was installed, he entered the kitchen, now swimming in the aroma of a home-cooked meal. It had only been a year since he’d had one of those, the last time he’d visited the house he’d grown up in—last Christmas—but it felt like ages.
“I didn’t realize you were going to go all out for me.” He sat in the bar stool at her kitchen island and watched as she prepared a salad to go with the lasagna she had on the stove.
“It’s the least I can do for last night. And tonight. I’ll feel a lot safer now, thanks to you.”
