“It’s okay,” I assure her, rubbing my hands up and down her back. “We’ll figure it out today.”
Rolling back, her eyes find mine, and I bring the pad of my thumb to her cheek, wiping away the tears.
“You think so?” she sniffles.
“Yes, and I was thinking. Maybe we go explore the town together today and see if Stella will talk to us. I came up empty handed yesterday, so I think the key to this is us doing it together.”
She moves away from me and inhales deeply, looking up at the ceiling, and my heart sinks.
“I’m not suggesting the love thing again, but I do think we’re better together than apart,” I explain.
“I agree.” She turns her head. “And for the record, I’m not opposed to your idea. I just don’t think it’s the solution that’s going to get us home before Christmas.”
Holy fucking shit. She’s notopposedto falling in love with me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.
“Like what?”
“Like I just told you I love you.”
“Didn’t you?” I smirk.
“No…” She huffs a breath and sits up. “I said that I’m open to the idea of you and me in the future. I just don’t think it’s going to happen before Christmas.”
“I’m hearing I have a chance.”
She rolls out of bed, laughing. “You truly can be so incredibly?—”
“Amazing?”
My chest expands as a smile brightens her face.
“Not the word I was going to use,” she quips.
“No? You’re not crying anymore,” I boast, climbing out of bed and turning to face her.
“No, I guess I’m not.”
“See? Seems like someone pretty amazing made you feelbetter.” I can’t help the arrogant curve of my lips. She may not want to admit the effect I have on her, but I can see it. Like maybe she’s realizing I could be more than the cock that makes her feel good.
“Let’s get dressed,” she says, walking toward her closet. Her hands flex by her sides as she moves, but she doesn’t look at me.
I turn to walk to mine holding on tight to the thought that if I keep showing her the man I really am, she and I might actually have a chance this time.
The weather is a little warmer than it was yesterday but still too cool to melt the snow. Nervous energy pulses through my veins like electricity through a wire as we approach the doors of Citrine Brews. We have to figure this out today, and I don’t know what we’re going to do if we don’t.
I look over toward Claire, hoping to calm some of my nerves, and I find her staring back at me holding in a laugh.
“What?” I question.
“Your sweater,” she says. “It’s just funny that that’s what you picked to wear.”
The sweater I’m wearing peeks out from beneath my open coat. It’s dark green, and on the front, red lettering says that I’mOn The Naughty List. A Santa hat tops the “O,” and some type of tinsel is sewn into the fabric, making it incredibly itchy.
“It was this or a light-up sweater with a large reindeer head on the front, so I went with what I thought was the less obnoxious option.”
“Oh man!” She giggles. “I wish you had worn the other one.”
