Page 42 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
No, chasing after her will only freak her out even more. She needs time to process. To come down off the realization that we were two seconds away from kissing.
Frankly, so do I.
I wasn’t prepared for Kat to be here. I thought coming down for a soak would be good for me, allow me to relax a little after today, and also give Kat the room to herself, especially when I got the alert that we were snowed in. I never suspected that she’d have the same idea, let alone share the space with me.
I wanted to bring her into my arms. Hold her. Feel her head on my chest as we sat back and relaxed. But I gave her space. I sat on my hands. My dick behaved. Everything was going fine and dandy until I watched in slow motion as she started falling back. I had no choice but to catch her, but I also knew the second she was in my arms that all bets were off.
Because it was in that second I realized that no matter what I thought of this woman before I met her, what I think of her now outweighs all of that.
She’s it for me. Full stop.
Sure, she might be my competition, but when you find the woman you know could change you for the better—who sees you in a way that no other person has seen you before—you don’t throw it away. You don’t act like a hard-headed jackass and let something like your job, or the fact that you created a narrative in your head that she was your arch enemy, stand in your way of something special.
Which is what I now need to prove to her. Though for me, it was just an idea I needed to get over. For her? I think not mixing business with pleasure is more than a mantra—it’s her rule of life. That it’s rooted in history and also comes with a deep side of pain. Which means I need to show her why this can be different. Why I can be different. Help her break down those walls.
Because this? What we share? What’s been evident from that first night? It’s undeniable.
The problem is, I don’t even know where to start when it comes to knocking down those walls. I rack my brain as I get out of the hot tub and dry myself off. For some reason, the first thing I think of is to order room service. Why? Who the hell knows. I mean, my stomach was grumbling, and she did say that she was hungry when she was trying to make a beeline out of the hot tub. I’m not sure if that was real or an excuse, but I don’t think it’s ever a bad move to order food.
But after that, I’ve got nothing. I sit and stare at the concrete surrounding the hotel pool for at least ten minutes with not a single idea. I’m willing to play the long game, but I have a feeling once the holidays are over, and we’re free from Timberline Inn, Kat is going to be doing her darndest to stay away from me. Which is why I have to make my move here. I don’t know how long I have, but I need to make every minute, every interaction, count.
When I get back to the room and open the door, I see that the bathroom door is shut, but I don’t hear the water running.In fact, I don’t hear anything, despite it being only a little after seven. When I come down the short hallway and turn toward the bed, that’s when I see it.
Kat, pretending to sleep on the cot.
It’s fucking adorable.
“What are you doing?” She doesn’t move, and I can only laugh. “Kat, I know you’re awake.”
I stand over her, arms crossed in amusement, as she slowly rolls over, pretending to wake up, big yawn included. “What are you talking about? I was asleep.”
“Bullshit.”
“How do you know?”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to tell you?”
“Yes,” she says, now sitting up, acting surprised by my answer. “Enlighten me.”
“Because you do this cute little snore when you’re sleeping, and you weren’t doing that.”
“I—” she cuts herself off, not able to find the words. “I don’t snore.”
“You do, and it’s endearing,” I say, not worrying about hiding my words. Not when I’m staring down a mountain that I need to climb. “Now what were you doing on the cot?”
“Sleeping,” she defends again. “Well, trying to sleep.”
“And why were you doing it on the cot and not the bed?”
“I told you; I’m going to be nice and sleep on it tonight,” she says. “It’s only fair.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. This is your room. You’re sleeping on the bed.”
I mean, I’d rather us both sleep on the bed. But I know that option isn’t on the table.
Yet. I’m an optimistic man.
“I’m not moving,” she says, crossing her fingers and adjusting her legs to sit crisscross-applesauce. “I’ve alreadywashed my face and brushed my teeth. I haven’t had a sip of water today, which I know isn’t something to brag about, but that means I’m not going to need to go to the bathroom for hours. There’s nothing that’s going to move me off this cot.”
