True to the doc’s word, in five minutes, they were headed out the door, a set of samples in hand to deliver to a different lab than the vet used. His father. Maybe. Despite everything, Holt found himself hoping it was true.
CHAPTER12
“You look like you found coal in your stocking.”
Caitlin jumped in surprise at the sound of Holt’s voice as he entered the office the next morning, coffee cup in hand. She inhaled the enticing aroma. “Is that for me? I beat Mrs. Smith to the kitchen this morning. The tea I brewed is hours cold.” She’d forgotten it. She’d been hard at work, putting more finishing touches on the catalog that would result in the sale of many of the treasures in the estate.
“Take this one. I can get another.” Holt set the cup on her worktable, his generosity an indication of the change in him since she’d first met him. Perhaps yesterday’s revelations, and the concrete step of doing the DNA tests, had a lot to do with it, but he’d been warming up to her and to this place since their discoveries in the attic.
He moved around the cluttered surface to look over her shoulder.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about the catalog anymore. True, she’d come here to do a job, and though she’d disagreed with Holt about the need for it, she’d done it well. But something in her couldn’t take pride in it. She hated to see the collection scattered to the four winds, the estate sold, and all of Holt’s family history, good and bad, out of his hands. “Thanks for the coffee.” After a sip that warmed her and chased away some of her dismay in pure, caffeinated pleasure, she added, “I don’t have a stocking,” in response to the first thing he’d said when he came in the door. “None of us do.”
He shifted and rested one hip on the desk. Then he quirked an eyebrow at her. “We need to fix that.”
“What? Celebrate Christmas? In this house? Who are you and what have you done with Holt Ridley?”
“It’s time, don’t you think? Christmas is two days away, and this old place needs some cheering up.” He glanced upward, as if staring through the ceiling. “We found several boxes of decorations in the attic. Let’s use them.”
Caitlin pushed up from her chair. Holt stood, too, and she threw herself into his arms. “That’s a brilliant idea. Let’s do.”
“In a moment,” Holt said and dipped his head.
His lips met hers, tasting of coffee and him. Caitlin tightened her hold on his shoulders, her knees too weak to support her weight as his lips moved over hers, teasing, coaxing, surprising her. The man could kiss! Better than she’d imagined that day on the beach. If this Holt was what she’d been missing, she regretted not acting on her impulse then. His arms wrapped her body like steel bands and held her against his solid strength. She could stay here forever, feeling the tip of his tongue grazing her mouth, his lips on her throat, his teeth nipping her earlobe before his mouth took hers, again.
She tunneled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, heat sizzling through her veins and melting her core. When his tongue breached the barrier of her lips, she moaned and pulled him closer, sliding her hands down his back to his firm arse.
Holt growled and did the same, pressing her close and making his arousal unmistakable. By the time he broke the kiss, they were both panting and flushed, eyes dark with desire.
Caitlin rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, then pulled away, reminding herself she was leaving for Scotland in a few days and might never see this man again. A few hot kisses were one thing, but getting more involved than that? Regret made her tone bleak. “We shouldn’t.”
Holt brushed her hair back and nodded. “Not yet.” He gusted out a breath. “But soon. In the meantime, we have decorating to do.” He flashed her one of his rare grins.
Soon? She could have floated as she led Holt up the attic stairs, never touching a tread.Sooncarried a lot of meanings, a lot of expectations, and possibly a lot of happiness. Though she knew better than to act on it, she could enjoy the daydream.
In the meantime, his eagerness to find the boxes of garlands, colored balls, wreaths, stockings, and all the other things his great-aunt had used to decorate the estate surprised and pleased her. She stopped halfway up the steps and twisted around. “Ach, nay. We don’t have a tree.”
“We can get one,” Holt assured her. “Or dispense with that this year and just use whatever strikes your fancy.”
This year, the man said. Did that mean next year— with her— was also on his mind? “So, you,” she teased, “draped across the mantle?”
“I can think of somewhere more comfortable than a mantle I’d rather be— but anywhere will do as long as you’re there with me.”
Caitlin laughed, hoping he meant what he said but afraid to take him too seriously. She wagged a finger at him, then bounded up the rest of the stairs. “First, we have to find those stockings!”
An hour later, boxes littered the front hallway, and both she and Holt were covered in dust. They’d found the stockings and hung them on the front room fireplace mantel. Scattered ribbons and bows and decorative balls were on the floor where Caitlin had dropped them while digging through the boxes. “Where is the garland these go on? And wreaths for the front door?”
“What are you two doing?” Mrs. Smith’s stunned voice echoed as she marched into the foyer from the long hallway leading from the kitchen, fists on hips.
Caitlin and Holt exchanged sheepish glances. “We wanted to find stockings to hang on the hearth,” she explained. “But there are no wreaths or swag in these boxes to decorate anything else.”
“That’s because every year, Farrell and I get them from the local farmers— fresh evergreens, mind you— and use all of those…things you’ve scattered about to make them festive. Given the circumstances and Mr. Ridley’s disinterest, we didn’t acquire any this year.”
“Mr. Ridley’s disinterest has taken a hike,” Holt replied with a grin. He brushed back his hair and left a smear of gray dust on his forehead.
“Are fresh evergreens still available?” Caitlin asked.
“Here and there,” Mrs. Smith answered, crossing her arms. “Though we might need to take a ride up to the north fork. There are more farm stands up there.”
