Good. Because I’ve got exactly zero.
She slides out of the bed with the sheet wrapped around her, giving me one last look over her shoulder that absolutely does not help my self-control. I should get up and help her search for her clothes, but part of me hopes if she doesn’t find them, she’ll have to stay.
Emmy disappears from my room and I hear her rummaging around.
She returns, fully dressed. Coat draped over her arm. A cookie in her mouth.
Before she slips on her coat, she comes back to the bed and straddles my lap. She takes a bite of the cookie and sets the rest on my nightstand then her hands are on my shoulders, eyes searching mine.
“We should do this again,” she says quietly.
Not a joke.
Not a tease.
A request.
A hope.
I grip her hips, keeping her there just a second longer. “Oh, we’re definitely doing this again.”
She bites her lip, and damn it, my resolve just about snaps. Instead, I lean in, give her a slow, deep kiss that promises more. Soon. Often.
Her breath is shaky after our kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“I’ll answer.” Immediately. Always. No matter what.
The smile she gives me is brighter than the Christmas tree in the town square. A glowing grin that lights up every inch of her face. It hits me again just how long I’ve been waiting to see that look aimed at me.
Then she slips off my lap and pulls on her coat.
I finally sit up and grab a pair of shorts off the floor, tugging them on. The least I can do is walk my girl to the door.
One hand on the doorknob, she turns back and looks at me. “Hayes?”
“Yeah?”
“Last night was,” her voice is shaky. She presses her palm lightly against her chest, grounding herself, then gives a single, deliberate nod—as if anchoring the truth out loud. “It was exactly what I needed.”
I feel that. All the way through me. “Me too.”
She gives me one more mega-watt smile and steps out into the early morning chill.
The door closes behind her, leaving my house quiet again.
But it doesn’t feel empty.
Not anymore.
Oh yeah. She and I are definitely doing this again.
And, if I have it my way, she’ll be packing up her things and moving in before Santa can gather up his reindeer.
I start toward the kitchen when there’s a soft knock on the door that stops me in my tracks. My heart flutters, hoping Emmy’s changed her mind and has decided to stay the night.
Rushing to open the door, I narrowly miss stubbing my toe on a side table.
Em’s amused expression greets me. “Hi. So. Uhm. Ireallydon’t want to call Joe McGillicuddy’s taxi service to take me home.”
