Galen hesitates. Maybe. It’s so fleeting I can’t be sure it’s real. Then he’s in my house, shutting the door behind him, and it doesn’t seem to matter so much.
It should matter. Galen’s never been weird about my house before. But even though he’s quiet tonight, his presenceconsumes me. His broad shoulders and strong back, muscles bunching as he slips out of his coat. His hair catching the glow of the crazy-lit tree in the garden. The memory of his skilled hands that hits me as he turns to face me again.
“Did I get you up?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s all dark down here.” Galen frowns. “Were you in bed?”
“No, I was at one with the tree.”
Galen rotates again, taking in the extra string of lights. “You can see that from Kerry, eh?”
“Probably.”
“And you didn’t overload the sockets?”
“No, I promise.”
Galen rolls his lips together and a pause expands between us. I fill it by flicking a lamp on, and I don’t regret a thing as the soft glow gifts me a better look at him.
“Did you work today?”
“Late shift.” Galen tracks me as I move around, following me to the kitchen. “That’s why I thought you might’ve gone to bed.”
I glance at the microwave. It’s gone midnight. Merde. When did that happen? I have to work in the morning, and every morning until Christmas Eve. “I was up.”
“You said.”
“Right. You want a drink? Something to eat?”
I open the fridge.
Behind me, Galen makes a growly sound that’s barely audible, but somehow I feel it in my fucking bones. My skin tingles, hair rising on my arms and the back of my neck, and a tremor rocks the hand reaching into the fridge. “I have some chicken pie. Take it home if you’re not hungry now.”
Silence.
I glance over my shoulder.
Galen’s not there. I abandon the pie and follow the sound of the radio to the living room.
He’s crouched in front of it, spinning the dial. “This won’t wake Esme?”
“If she can’t eat it, she’s not waking up. Surprised that thing still works, though. She dropped it on the patio a few weeks back.”
“I know. Only time I’ve ever heard her cry.”
“From your house?”
Galen hums, frowning at the wall-to-wall Christmas tracks, reminding me of the night we met in the pub and thesomeonehe’s never mentioned since, until he finds a mellow rock station he can live with. “I was sanding. Had all the doors open.”
“She doesn’t cry much. Only when she’s angry or sick.”
“Which was this?”
“Fucking fuming she couldn’t hear Uncle Tam through the speakers. Thought it was a phone.”
Galen chuckles. “Clever girl.”
