When a noise pulls me from sleep, I assume it’s the girls sneaking out of bed to peek at their Christmas presents. I force my eyes open, mentally hyping myself up to talk one or both of them into going back to bed for a while. It’s still dark outside, and it feels like it’s only been a couple hours since I fell asleep.
I glance over at the clock next to my bed, scowling at the red numbers declaring it’s just after midnight. I’ve only been in bed an hour, and it’sdefinitelytoo early for the girls to be getting up. I roll over, holding back a frustrated sigh.
The magic of Christmas is a little less magical in the dead of the night.
I peer over at the other side of my king-sized bed. Scarlett and Zoey are sleeping peacefully. I don’t even know if they’ve moved since they fell asleep when I put them to bed at nine. They had an eventful day, and even with the excitement of Christmas Eve, they were easy to put to bed.
Snick.
Yeah, that’s the sound of the lock turning. I scowl into the darkness. It must be Ivy, but what’s she doing?
I slip from bed and quietly leave the room. A sliver of light from the door of the suite casts a line of yellow across the living room,and I round the corner to see Ivy hobbling out of the hotel room on her crutches. Is she trying to escape to her room? I could see her thinking that she’s imposing on us and our Christmas celebrations.
I wanted to tell her earlier when she was smiling secretly to herself and stuffing the stockings how much I enjoyed having her here with us. It would have been fun with just me and the girls, but something about Ivy being here … it’s levelled everything up.
It wasn’t that it felt like I had a family again.
It was that I felt like things were real for the first time.
Real caring.
Real enjoyment.
Ivy wanted to spend time with my little family, despite her protests of being a burden, and having someone choose to spend time with me? It’s exhilarating and scary at the same time.
She’s propped the door open, which confuses me more. Did she need something from her room that Law missed? Couldn’t she have come in and asked me? Or texted Carlie or Law?
I heave a sigh. Of course she wouldn’t, and I should remind her how hypocritical she’s being. She insisted on doing everything for me, and now she won’t let me do the same for her.
I pull the door open just as Ivy leans into it, a sack from King Soopers hanging from one of her arms.
Ivy squeals in surprise and then claps a hand over her mouth. Her crutches drop, clattering against the doorway, one falling behind her and the other falling into the room. She windmills with her other hand and then falls forward, right into my chest.
I catch her automatically, my hands finding her waist to steady her. I suck in a quick breath at the rush of warmth that flows through me at having her in my arms.
Again.
I’ve been trying to push images like this out of my head since I carried her off the ice earlier. I want to shift an arm to wraparound her back and pull her against me. I want to run a finger along her bare shoulder, where her oversized T-shirt is falling off one side.
I haven’t thought this way about another woman since Shelby left. I haven’t had time, and maybe that’s what’s happening here. Without work and with the girls taking up every spare moment, I have time tothinkabout Ivy.
Ivy’s hands rest on my chest, and they’re warm, even through the CSU T-shirt I’m wearing. “You scared me,” she says, her voice feather-light. She’s staring up at me, and the heated expression she gives me says that something similar to my thoughts is running through hers.
Does she see me as more than a friend, more than someone to help?
“I heard the lock,” I say in a soft voice, still staring at her. “Had to make sure you weren’t trying to escape.”
“Oh,” she says. It’s a bare whisper, but the huskiness to it unravels my insides.
I swallow. A strand of hair in a loose curl has fallen across her face, and my hand reaches up of its own accord, brushing it gently back. The soft silkiness of her cheek makes my fingers tingle. It takes all my willpower not to stroke her cheek with my thumb. She gasps and her lips fall open. Then she quickly closes them and bites them together.
I swallow. I’m going to kiss her unless I do something right now to stop it. Step away. Pull my hands back. Get her crutches for her and send her to bed.
But I can’t move.
This is a bad idea.
How is it that I keep finding myself drawn to women like this, women who don’t want relationships, who aren’t interested in building a life with someone they love? Ivy’s young. I don’t blame her for not being ready to settle down yet.
