Page 104 of Mad About Yule

My heart goes into overdrive thinking about every foolish choice I’ve made these last few weeks, but I can still fix this. “I think I need to grovel.”

I’ve always liked the big gestures in my romance novels, but I never really thought about them from the groveler’s side. But I will find a way to prove to Griffin that I want to be with him, and I don’t care who knows it.

THIRTY-SIX

GRIFFIN

I stareat the only framed photo in my office. It’s a picture of Dad, Caleb, and me from about five years ago. We’d been fishing all day, and our faces are pink from the sun, but we’ve never looked happier.

My heart twists and squeezes. I want that back. I know I’ll never get it again—doesn’t stop the wanting.

The front door to the building opens. It’s after hours, but I’m not too worried about intruders. I saw the headlights when Caleb’s truck pulled in. He comes straight to my office.

“I drove by and saw the lights are on. What are you doing here?”

I splay my hands over my desk. “Checking my inbox. I’ll be back to work on Monday.”

Not that there was anything waiting in my inbox.

“So? Doesn’t explain what you’re doing in here two hours after I closed up.”

“I’m getting a jump on things.”

He leans against the door frame. “Just tell me what you’re really doing.”

“What areyoudoing? Shouldn’t you be home with your wife?” I’m kind of being a jerk right now, but he’s unfazed by my attitude.

“Rowan’s got a craving for salt and vinegar potato chips, and I’m the delivery boy.”

“Then you’d better get on home and deliver.”

“She’ll be okay for a few more minutes.” He winces like she somehow heard that and pulls out his phone. “I’ll just let her know I’ll be a little late.”

He thumbs for a minute on his phone and then slips it away again. He walks in and sits in the chair across from my desk—a simple, uncomfortable-looking affair, because I don’t usually visit with clients.

Don’t really want to visit with Caleb right now, either.

“What’s going on?” he says. “And spare me the work routine crap—I’m well aware of your work ethic, and that’s not what’s bugging you.”

I run my hands through my hair, calculating the quickest route out of here. I could just walk right past him and leave it all unsaid. Leave it all bottled up where it belongs. But maybe I don’t have enough fight in me tonight.

“Do you even need me here? Really?”

He blinks at my question, clearly not expecting it. “Honestly? We could do okay without you.”

My laugh tastes bitter, but I appreciate the candor. “Good to know, I guess.”

He leans forward in his chair. “But answer me this—do you even want to be here?”

I’m not inclined to be quite so honest. “Of course I do.”

His smile is like the one he used to wear when he was a point up in pick-up basketball and about to destroy me. “Are you lying to me or yourself?”

“It’s the truth,” I lie.

He nods, clearly not buying what I’m selling. “You like this, do you? Running the office end of things for a landscaping company? Not using your skills or experience in any capacity? Good stuff for you, yeah?”

I grit my teeth but have to look away. “I’m happy here.”

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