Page 27 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

* * *

As I lift the beautiful pattered cloth that covered the contents of the bask

et, I see a mixture of muffins.

* * *

My heart melts.

* * *

“Because you like muffins,” He says, simply.

* * *

I stare up at him, not knowing how to react to that.

* * *

“T-thank you.”

* * *

When his lips curve, I find myself fighting a blush. When he cocks his hip against my desk, “So, Abby. How has your day been?”

* * *

I shrug, “Okay.”

* * *

This was new.

* * *

My hair was open, out of it’s bun, and he takes a strand and starts curling it around his finger, making me stiff.

* * *

But I couldn’t stop him.

* * *

I didn’t want to.

* * *

“What happened?” He asks playing with my brown strands, his eyes watching the bounce with a fascination all men had with long hair.

* * *

I rack my brains, trying to recall the details of my day, but I keep getting distracted with how he is twirling my hair around those thick fingers that would feel so much better if they were being inserted into my –

* * *

“Abby?”

* * *

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