Chapter 14 – Face Off
Secrets at the buzzer
Christmas Day
Amelia
I roll over in bed, blinking my eyes and trying to clear my vision. It's morning, and snow falls gently outside my window. So peaceful and calming.
It reminds me of Christmas with Grandma when I was a little girl.Dad always made sure we had what we needed, even though he was never there in the ways that mattered.Yet Grandma always made Christmas feel magical, as if nothing were ever missing.
She gave everyone a little something special for Christmas. Days beforehand, we'd make dozens of cookies, cakes, and candies. Grandma would also set asidesmall gifts and trinkets to go with them.I wasn't spoiled at Christmas, but it was wonderful growing up with Grandma.
I grab my phone to check the time. Bash's guests should start showing up soon, and I promised to help him get the turkey in the oven.
Dragging myself up, I head to the ensuite bathroom to get ready for the day. The warm water from the shower is soothing, but I can't linger if I want to get downstairs in time to help. After toweling off, I brush my teeth and apply light makeup before pulling on my clothes.
I trot downstairs to find Bash wrestling with a giant turkey in the kitchen sink.
"Hey! Good morning, Firebird," Bash calls over the splash of the water. "Did you sleep okay?"
Tying an apron around my waist and rolling up my sleeves, I join him in his valiant fight.
"Yeah," I sigh. "Better than I have in a while. It was… uh… nice knowing I wasn't alone in the house."
He stops and looks at me intently over his shoulder, his eyes soft. "I'm glad, Amelia."
The awkward weight shifts in his grip, drawing his attention back to it.
“Wow, that's some gobbler. You feeding an army?” I laugh.
“If I can manage to get this bird rinsed and in the oven, we are.”
I smile at his use ofwe, as if we're entertaining his family together. The thought makes me happy. I slip into a little daydream of what it might be like to be Bash's wife, hosting Christmas here at our cabin.
I'm so caught up in my delicious thoughts that I miss what Bash says next.
“Hmmm?” I ask.
Suddenly, the oven-bound menace drops from our hands and into the sink, splashing me with cold water. I yelp and jump back.
“I asked you to hold the turkey steady while I got the pan in place,” Bash chuckles, enjoying himself far too much for someone elbow-deep in poultry chaos.
“Oh,” I squeak. “Sorry.”
“It's okay, sweetheart. Where did your thoughts go?”
A blush rises in my cheeks. I shrug, avoiding his eyes, wishing I could blame my flushed face on something other than the fantasy I'd just been lost in.
Bash grins, clearly amused, and reaches for a clean dishtowel. His fingers brush my skin as he slowly wipesthe water from my face. His touch is light, and I can't help noticing how close we are. I fight the urge to lean into him. The space between us feels too small, too charged.
Lost in his blue eyes, I catch a flicker of something that neither of us is ready to admit. The line we're hesitant to cross. My breath hitches, a low pull stirring in my stomach. Just the way he looks at me sets my core on fire. The towel drops from his grasp, unnoticed on the floor, while his fingers graze my cheek in a fleeting caress. The ghost of his touch lingers long after his hand falls away. This brief, tender "what-if" moment with him weaves healing through my fragile heart and kindles a faint hope, a hope that someday, maybe, he could be mine.
His mouth parts slightly, like he's about to speak, but his gaze dips to my lips.
Does he want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss him?
We lean into each other, breaths quickening. Bash's mouth descends upon me with the barest whisper of a kiss, and for a heartbeat, nothing else exists. The turkey lies forgotten at the bottom of the sink. Getting it into the oven is no longer a priority.
