Page 27 of Booked for the Holidays
Stepping inside, I dust off the snow that’s accumulated on my hat and coat before climbing the narrow, creaky stairs to my apartment.
Inside, the warmth hits immediately, and I’m thankful for my cozy sanctuary. But then Liam walks in behind me and all the stress returns. Dropping my stiletto boots on the drying mat, I start toward the kitchen. I need a buffer, a task. Anything.
Liam follows. I can feel him standing in the doorway, watching me.
“You know where the guest room is.”
“I do.”
I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. I don’t want to feel like this. Like I’m dying a little and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“You know—” I start, turning to face him.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he says, his voice quiet. “But if you think I came all this way just to sleep down the hall and pretend nothing happened between us, you don’t know me very well.”
My heart lurches. I move to brush past him, but he catches my wrist gently, barely a touch.
“I know you don’t owe me anything,” he murmurs. “Just don’t shut me out completely. Please.”
I look up at him, startled by the rawness in his voice.
My defenses crack for half a second, and that’s all it takes. Our eyes lock and I know he must see right through me because the air between us goes thick.
“Goodnight,” I say, my voice not nearly as firm as I want it to be.
Liam releases me, nods once, then disappears down the hallway.
When I hear the door to the guest bedroom shut, I allow myself to drop onto a chair at my small kitchen table.
It’s been mere hours with Liam, and I already feel myself sinking back into old feelings. I just need to make it to Christmas.
SIX
LIAM
I tapmy phone on the payment screen and smile when the photo of me and Juniper from last night lights up. I wasn’t kidding when I told her I was going to make it my screensaver.
I’d woken up early. Juniper’s guest bed was comfortable, yet with my brain being on eastern time, I couldn’t sleep past five thirty. So instead, I answered some emails, then ten minutes ago, walked down the street to The Hollow Bean to grab us chocolate croissants and coffees. I’d become obsessed with the croissants during my short visit to Cedar Hollow last year. Little did I know they wouldn’t be my only obsession with this town.
The sidewalks lining Founders Street are shoveled and now cleared of ice, but last night the slick sidewalks paired with sexy stiletto boots that had no place in a Colorado snowstorm had been the catalyst for getting close to Juniper.
She’d begrudged the piggy-back ride but then I’d caught the look on her face in the photo I’d taken, and it gave me hope.
I glance down at the screensaver on my phone again. Juniper’s eyes are on me, with an unmistakable softness to them. Her mouth curved into a wistful, almost vulnerable expression, like she’s savoring something she doesn’t think she can have.
But she has me. She just doesn’t know it yet.
I want her. I’ve wanted her since that night. But wanting someone and being ready for them are two different things—and last year, I wasn’t. I panicked. I messed up.
But rushing into some grand apology or kissing her the second I got here wouldn’t fix anything. It might make me feel better, but it wouldn’t make her trust me again. And I want her trust. Her belief that I mean what I say. That this isn’t just guilt or nostalgia or lust. It’s more.
Now, I’m not just trying to win her back. I’m trying to show her that she’s not a passing infatuation. I see a future with her.
So yeah, for now I’m holding back. Not because I’m unsure, but because I’m sure and I don’t want to mess it up again.
Grabbing the pastry bag and tray of coffees in one hand, I exit the café.
On my way back to Juniper’s flat, I pass by the storefront under construction. The soon-to-be wine bar currently with brown butcher’s paper covering the windows.
