Tugging my bottom lip through my teeth, I shift on my feet before nodding. “Sure.”
I drop my bag by the door, and he leads me into the living room. The fireplace crackles away, two stockings resting on the rustic wooden mantle above it. The entire room is bordered by garland and trimmed with strings of fairy lights.
Maisey sure went all out on this space.
“She loves Christmas so much, doesn’t she?” I wander to the mantle, running my fingertips over the soft fabric of the stocking with Maisey’s name on it. How long has it been since our family exchanged gifts? I can’t remember. But a long time, that’s for sure.
“She does. Easter and Fourth of July, too. My girl is big on events and the people she shares them with.”
I glance back as he pours two fingers of something amber into two glasses. “That’s incredible, Quinton.”
Handing me a glass, he comes to stand by my side in front of the fire with a chuckle. “Tell that to my wallet.”
“Oh, I bet.” I take a sip. A slight burn continues all the way down, warming me from the inside.
“You still need help with your tree?”
“Um, yes. I could use Maisey’s talent. Our house looks...” I gaze at the flickering flames. “We haven’t done Christmas for years.” The last phrase is almost a whisper.
“You have the power to change that, you know.”
I know.
“I guess.”
“Cel—”
“I should get home.”
I hand him the empty glass with a soft “thank you.” He simply nods, rooted to the spot, a glass in each hand as I head for the front door.
When I reach the door, I hesitate, plucking my bag from the floor where I left it.
“Stop.” The word is gravel and a little harsh.
I still like a deer in headlights, softening as he closes in. His sandalwood and spice hems me in by the door. My back hits it as my gaze is once again trained to his lips. He studies my face, a hand sliding across my cheek and into my hair. “Fuck, CC.”
I huff out a strained breath.
My chest plummets with a fiery inhale with the electricity that sparks and travels through me with his touch.
“I really want to kiss you,” he rasps.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he waits for a response.
“We can’t . . .”
Chapter
Fourteen
QUINTON
My gut plummets. The one thing I’ve wanted. The only woman I’ve wanted for years... and she doesn’t want to.
We can’t.
“I—”
