After the pizza is long gone, Carwyn takes me back home. He walks me to the door.
“So prove you’re not a snob,” he says.
He draws me to him and smiles down at me, and I smile back up at him, trying to hide the fact that I’m on the verge of a love heart attack.
And then it comes. THE KISS.
I light up inside like a string of Christmas lights meeting electricity for the first time. The feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his body—oh my! Every sensation I’ve imagined for my heroines cascades over me, and I want it to go on forever.
He ends the kiss and grins. “That was a lot better than the last kiss we had.”
“Yes, it was, and I’m glad there was no mistletoe involved.”
He gives me a teasing frown. “What’s wrong with mistletoe?”
“It’s bad luck,” I inform him and kiss him again.
“Oh, man, that one was even better,” he says.
He’s ready for thirds but I pull back and tease, “Don’t be greedy,” which makes him chuckle.
“See you tomorrow at Mom and Dad’s party,” he says.
He certainly will. I am so very, very glad I came home for the holidays.
When I walk into the house, I find Sam camped on the family room sofa, gaming and scowling at the TV, shooting imaginary enemies. My poor brother. I set aside my own happiness and plop onto the couch next to him and ask what happened.
“We’re through,” he says tersely.
I’m relieved, but I still feel badly that he’s hurting. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I guess I’ve known all along what she is. I just didn’t want to admit it. Lucky escape, really.”
He’s not smiling like a lucky man, but I hope his heart will catch up with his brain quickly.
As for me, my brain is pulling hard on the reins, telling my heart to slow down. Two kisses do not a relationship make. Plus, we live on opposite coasts. How can that work?
My heart’s not listening.
Seven
Was it possible that someone like her could attract his attention? It was what she’d dreamed of for so long that she was almost afraid to hope.
—Hailey Fairchild,What the Heart Seeks
I meet my old bestie Scarlet and her sister Billie for coffee at Cora’s Coffee House. This place hasn’t changed. It still looks like a giant living room, with oversized chairs and sofas grouped around scuffed wooden tables. A wreath is hung on every window, and Mariah Carey is singing about all she wants for Christmas. I can smell coffee and the aroma of baking goodies, something with a heavy hand of cinnamon, floating from the kitchen. Cora’s mom is eighty now, but she still bakes all the cookies and pastries for her daughter. Even though it’s late afternoon and coffee rush hour has passed, the place is packed, with people getting their eggnog and gingerbread latte fixes.
The sisters have snagged a small table in a corner by the front window. Scarlet waves at me as if I don’t see her, but I’d recognize that auburn hair and big smile anywhere. Her sister smiles, too, and waves as well, and I hurry over to hug them.
Billie is sporting a baby mountain, and I have to bend over it to hug her. “When are you due?” I ask.
“February,” she replies.
“And she’d better not go into labor right in the middle of mywedding,” jokes Scarlet. “I hope you remembered to save the date,” she says to me.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
I hurry to order my drink, yet another peppermint latte (What? They’re seasonal!), and a slice of gingerbread. There will be a ton of food at the Davieses’ party tonight, but I’d be a fool to pass up on Cora’s mom’s gingerbread.
