One.
Big.
Warm.
Hand.
Around.
My.
Calf.
When he stays that way, heat radiates from all five fingertips and slinks right up my legs and my breath stops.
Marv yells from inside about going into the attic; I do not respond because I do not give a rat’s ass what he’s doing.
Jay stands—slowly—dragging his palm up the inside of my leg. To my knee. My thigh. Stopping at the hem of my robe.
My pulse slams at the apex of my thighs.
He pulls his hand away—slowly.
Stands fully.
Leans in.
And whispers, “You’ve thought about the kiss.”
I accidentally whimper.
Our eyes lock.
He.
Smirks.
“Ass,” I say with a gasped choke, pressing the back of my hand to my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He raises his eyebrows, delivering a wordlessthe hell you don’tlook. “Either way, we got you a tree.”
“A tree?” I parrot, forcing even breaths.
“A pear tree,” he corrects, gesturing to the lollipop-shaped potted plant next to him on the porch. “You said you usually decorate a Christmas tree, and I thought since you weren’t going to this year maybe you could do something else. Plant itwith your kids when you’re done.” He shrugs. “A no-tradition tradition loophole?”
I stare at the tree, letting its meaning settle into my marrow as my hands drop to my sides, and the chest of my robe splays open. Adoration for him zips through me, swift and strong.
“That—” I clear my throat, willing my body to remain upright. “Might be the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
A soft laugh puffs out of him, almost like he’s relieved, and he smiles. “Good.”
We stand in an awkward silence. I want him to come inside and stay all night. I want him to say,I’ve been thinking of the kiss and you, and I want to do it again. And again.
But it’s not him who breaks the silence, it’s Marv.
“Clean,” he announces as he breezes past me and pockets the flashlight. “Safe to return home. Happy Thanksgiving, Hollis.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Marv,” I call after his retreating back down the sidewalk. “Thank you for the gifts.”
