Page 29 of Not In The Christmas Plan
When his eyes lift to mine, awareness of how ridiculous yet adorable he looks warms my chest, but there’s a glint there I don’t trust. And for good reason it turns out—he stretches his tacky hand to me, going for my face.
“Don’t you dare!” I squeal, ducking under his arm.
He’s big and fast, but my aversion to getting messy puts some extra pep in my step. I slip away as his other hand darts out, grazing the air where my cheek was.
“That’s right boy,” I say. “I float like a butterfly. Sting like a bee. You ain't gettin’ any alley-oops on me.”
Grant looks utterly pained as he shakes his head. “You do know you mixed boxing and basketball metaphors, right? And that they don’t go together?”
I shrug. A sport is a sport.
“How about this—stop chucking out bricks.” Dad used to yell something to that effect at the T.V. It feels right.
Grant’s frown makes my stomach tighten. Maybe I pushed too far after he opened up in the car about his old career.
Then he lunges.
This time I’m not quick enough. He catches me by the waist, one arm locked around my back, the other hovering near my face. Up close, I see in addition to sap, it’s covered with lint and tree needles.
“Don’t do it, Grant” I plead, poking my lower lip out. “Please.”
“You shouldn’t have talked all that trash,” he says with mock menace, inching his hand closer.
Unable to bear the sight, I close my eyes tight. I’m at his mercy and accept my fate.
After a moment, his finger taps my nose then he stands me up.
I peek one eye open. “That’s it?”
He smirks down at me. “Consider it a warning. But keep with the bad terminology, and you won’t be so lucky next time.”
As ridiculous as it is, I’m really starting to like that smirk of his. The way his eyes shine playfully and the corner of his mouth lifts.
That same mouth that was on mine two days ago, as Grant has been insistent on reminding me.
I let out a shaky laugh as awareness of how close we are, and how much I want him to kiss me again, hits all at once. The faint scent of pine still clings to him, and warmth radiates off his chest. After our heavy conversation in the car, it’s a lot.
I’m not trying to run away, but I need a breather.
I clear my throat and take a careful step back. “Well, you’ve made your point. And now I’m going to get cleaned up. Who knows what you put on my face.”
He’s still grinning as I head for the stairs. “Probably a good idea.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do the same,” I say, feeling unusually giddy as I look over my shoulder and catch Grant’s eyes trailing after me.
After a quick shower, my mind is all over the place. I turn over each and every one of our interactions for the past two weeks. The more I think of letting our mutual attraction run its course, the more sense it makes. And somehow,thatrealization makes me panic. Wanting Grant shouldn’t feel dangerous, but it does. Because wanting anything this much hasn’t ended well before.
I tug on the holiday pajamas Ivy gifted me and grab my phone. I don’t know what to do and need my twin to listen to me spiral, then assure me that whatever step I decide to take with Grant, I’ll be fine.
But the call goes straight to voicemail. I set the phone down, trying to fight the tightness in my chest.
I hope her and the babies are alright. The tree is up, and the house is almost ready, but none of it will matter if they’re not here come Christmas morning.
An unexpected knock at my door sets my pulse racing. Obviously, it can only be Grant, but this is the first time he’s come to my room. What could he want?
I block out the taunting voice in my head insisting he’s here to sweep me off my feet. That he felt the shift in the car just as much as I did and, being Grant, he’s not about to let up now.
Also being Grant, he’s probably here to ask if I’m fine with him finishing off the cookies.
