Finally, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, softening the hard line of his jaw when he caught her teasing. His gaze dropped to her mouth before snapping back up, and her body thrummed in response. Her nipples tightened painfully under the thin Lycra, puckering for his mouth to abuse and then soothe. She pressed them delicately to his chest, feeling him stiffen in response.
She kept her free hand low and to her side, aware of the heavy weight of his duty belt—gun, cuffs, and any number of other mysterious things—and pressed her hips against his, rubbing back and forth delicately. The tips of her breasts pressed flush against the hard wall of his chest, and her achy, damp mound molded to the stiff length in his uniform trousers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she lifted her mouth for a kiss.
Rush gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, and dipped his head to kiss her. The kiss was deliciously rough and hungry. He parted her lips and flicked his tongue against hers, tasting her deeply. Shyly, she met his tongue with hers, caught the hint of cinnamon and maple, maybe from his own latte, and grew bolder when he groaned.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said roughly against her neck, his hot breath coming unevenly while he nuzzled her there.
“Okay,” she gasped, almost dizzy with anticipation. “I’ll get my stuff.”
When she reappeared, she’d pulled on a long rose-colored wrap dress over her leotard and tights. Knit leg warmers and boots, along with her long camel cashmere coat—a gift from Amber from her secondhand boutique—belted at her waist, would keep her warm enough for where they were going. In front of the mirror, she tugged the pins from her bun and let her hair tumble in loose curls over her shoulders. A quick swipe of lip gloss for shine finished her look.
Rush’s unblinking, hungry expression as he watched her let her know he liked what he saw.
“I’m ready. Oh, wait. We need this.” She turned back around, balancing her latte in one hand while she picked up a neatly taped cardboard box near the front door. Rush took it from her.
He hefted the slight weight. “What’s this?”
“It’s for your tree,” she said, distracted as she bent down to dig one-handed through her big purse for her keys. She never remembered where they were, and truthfully, she rarely locked the door. Northfield was incredibly safe, and her studio was across from the sheriff’s station. She shrugged and gave up. “Let’s go.”
Rush put his hands on his hips. “Lily. Lock your damn door.”
She glanced up at him, startled. “It’s Northfield. Nothing happens here.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He was back in his bossy sheriff mode again. “You lock up. Every time. You hear me?”
“Yes, Sheriff,” she muttered, half exasperated, half turned on. It was annoying how much Rush Callahan’s bossy tone really did it for her.
“I’m not kidding,” he warned, narrowing his eyes. Onlywhen she turned the lock did his shoulders ease. “And I don’t have a Christmas tree.”
“You do now.” She tossed the keys back into her purse and linked her arm with his. It was a perfect night for what she had planned. Cold but not unbearable, with big, fat flakes of snow swirling. Happiness bubbled in her, and she tugged him down the stairs.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re going to the tree lot.”
“I don’t need a tree.”
“Spoken like the Grinch himself.”
His eyes narrowed in warning, but she only grinned and stepped closer, tilting her face up to him in the glow of the streetlamp. Up and down the street, shop windows twinkled light and garlands. The sugary-sweet scent of kettle corn from the vendor set up in the Christmas tree lot drifted through the cold night air.
“It’s not about what you need,” she said softly. “It’s about letting yourself enjoy something.” Her gaze held his. “Like me.”
Rush stared at her a beat too long. For one long, charged moment, she thought he might refuse. Then he exhaled, the frosty puff of his breath curling between them, and let her tug him toward the lot ahead.
“Fine,” he said gruffly. “But I’m not stringing popcorn garland.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You’re scowling,”Lily murmured, tucking her arm through Rush’s as they stepped between rows of trees. “It’s ruining the vibe.”
Rush looked wildly out of place in his uniform, the tense set of his mouth at odds with the strings of white lights zigzagging overhead. At her glance, he made an effort, lifting the corner of his firm mouth into something like a smile. “Sorry. Habit.”
Except it wasn’t just habit. Whatever had followed him from work still clung to him, even if he tried to disguise it.
“It’s part of your charm.” She handed him a tiny paper cup of warm cider, one of the free samples set out for shoppers. “Here. Drink and be merry.”
He grunted, scanning the crowded parking lot beside the Northfield Dairy. Every year, it transformed into a Christmas tree lot, complete with carols crackling faintly from an old speaker and blending into the happy shrieks of kids darting in and out of the rows. The sweet scent of pine sap and kettle corn hung in the cold air, and Lily inhaled deeply, happiness curling through her. For her, the scene was pure comfort. For Rush, she suspected, the scene felt like chaos.
She and Evie had already been to the lot to pick out Evie’s tree, a slim one that fit perfectly in the apartment. Still, it felt strange not to choose one for her own home. For years, she’d gone with her family to pick out a tree for the apartment she shared with Tucker. He’d stopped coming years ago, and she stopped asking, secretly glad not to have to watch him fidget and check his watch like he had someplace better to be.
