Page 60 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“Because,” he grits out. “There’s broken glass all over the floor now.”
I gulp. “You’re right.”
“We don’t need to add bloody feet to the situation so just hold still.”
“Okay, but I wasn’t exactly planning to do a river dance up here on this—ACK!” I begin to slip and let out a shriek scrambling for something to grab on to. What I find is the chain for the light, and as I fall, I rip the whole thing out of the ceiling. Of course I land on Three.
He catchesme with a grunt.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know.”
He carries me away from the sad remains of our broken bulb as shattered glass crunches under his boots. His body is warm, and my arms snake around his neck. “How can you see where you’re going?”
“I can’t.”
He adjusts his hold on me—sticking one leg out at a time, scoping out what’s in front of us with his foot—then he shuffles forward. Slowly. When we’ve moved several yards away from the lightbulb wreckage, I say, “I think it’s safe for you to put me down.”
After he lowers me to the ground, I grope around for a place to sit and locate a long rectangular trunk. We each take a side.
“So.” Three clears his throat. “What’s the game plan now?”
“Well, we couldn’t find a way out in the dark, and I just permanently murdered our only light source. Neither of us has a phone to call for help, so I’m thinking we might be stuck in here until Ryan Detweiler shows up tomorrow. He can let us out.”
“Hmph. How will he get in the house?”
“He has the lockbox code,” I say. “Property owners aren’t supposed to be home during the evaluations, so I was planning to take you out to breakfast while he was here.” At the mention of food, my stomach rumbles—traitor—and I press my hands against it. “Good thing you made that grilled cheese for us, huh?Andyou took your antibiotics.Andyou’ve got a fresh bandage on.” I’m doing my best to find the bright side in a room that’s pitch black, but my voice cracks anyway. “We should be okay overnight, right?”
“Sure.” Three’s quiet for a moment. “And being in the dark, resting overnight, is probably better for me than running around the yard with pink flamingoes and tiki torches anyway.”
“Youwererunning?”
“Exaggeration.”
“Still.” I groan. “I not only concussed you, I turned out to be the world’s worst caretaker.”
One who came awfully close to spending the rest of the night kissing you.
“You were just trying to keep me occupied.”
“Right.” Another groan from me. “Because I’m so boring.”
He lets out a small chuckle. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Sara.” He takes a beat. “The truth is, spending these past couple days with you hasn’t beenallbad.”
“Oh, really?” I snort. “What was your favorite part? When I threw a fire extinguisher at your head? When your entire family left for a cruise without you? How about the time I tried to make you play chess with a concussion? Ah, right. It wasprobablythe moment I locked us in this storage room, then assassinated our only lightbulb.”
Three guffaws. “Well, when you put it that way …”
“No wonder you broke up with me,” I mumble under my breath. I don’t intend for him to hear me say this, but he does.
“Hey. Don’t do that. Please.”
“No, it’s all right.” A long sigh escapes me. “I get it.”
