“Keep dreaming,” Travis says.
“I don’t know. A little gray at the temples. Maybe a sexy graying beard. You’d better watch out, I might start checking out the older brother,” Trace answers.
“You keep dreaming. I’m the only man you’ll ever want.”
“True.” Trace leans over to give Travis a quick peck on the cheek. Why are cheek kisses so sweet? It makes me want to swoon. They’re almost as good as the forehead kisses Beau doles out. “Now, who’s ready for dessert?”
“Oh god,” I moan. Travis and Trace exchange a grin. I swear I’m saying nothing from now on. It’s like dealing with a group of teenage boys.
“How about we clean up while y’all chill in the living room?” Beau suggests. “You cooked. Harmony and I can take care of this.”
“Yeah, you can, dog.” Travis laughs as he gets up from the table.
“Jesus,” Beau breathes. They’re still laughing when they reach the living room. Beau pushes up from the table. “They’re like having two obnoxious brothers. I don’t remember him being this bad in high school.”
“Did you have a lot of women over when he was in high school?” I ask, helping him stack plates on the counter by the sink.
“Never. It didn’t seem like a good role model to have a revolving door of women at the house.” He fills the kettle and sets it on the stove to heat.
“Exactly. This is new, and he can’t help teasing you about it. He’s just having some fun.”
“I know, but thanks for not trying to flee out the door.” I lean against the counter while we wait for the water to heat. “He doesn’t really bother me though. You do. I’m desperate to throw you over my shoulder and haul you to my bedroom.”
He fists my hair and pulls me against him. His lips brush against mine tentatively before crushing them in a brutal kiss. His tongue insists on controlling mine as if he’s desperately trying to imprint his touch in my mind.
He doesn’t have to worry. I couldn’t forget him if I tried. The kettle whistles, and he pulls back. His hand stays in my hair for a few more moments as he traces my face with his dark gaze.
Then he’s gone, and I hate that stupid kettle with my whole being. How will I survive on the road knowing he’s so far away?I don’t even want to be in the next room without him there. Is this what love feels like? Leaving is going to be harder than I expected.
“Do you want me to put more water on for tea? Or do you want hot chocolate?” he asks. Is he feeling what I am, or is he able to chalk this up to nothing more than a chance encounter? He sets the kettle on without waiting for my answer. I grab a dish towel and move next to him. Silently, we wash and dry the dishes.
“I know I don’t have any right to say this,” he says quietly. “This is gutting me. I’m not ready for you to go.”
“Me too.” He nods his head without looking at me. I help him haul the dishes back to the closet and put them away.
It won’t do any good to ruin the day by trying to reason out how to be together. His life is here, mine is somewhere else. So, we do the only thing left to us. We carry heaping mugs of hot chocolate and plates of pie into the living room.
fifteen
BEAU
I knownothing can come from it, but I had to say the words. I’m not ready to let her go. There’s just no way I can make our worlds work together. I guess I needed her to know how I felt. I don’t really know.
I don’t know anything anymore. What am I trying to do, but make us both miserable? I really hope someday she looks back on this Christmas with a smile. She’ll tell her kids that this was one of the best she ever had.
“Dessert!” she announces with a flourish as we walk into the living room.
“Perfect. We were starting to waste away in here,” Travis teases. I think it’s more likely he’ll reach man bear status faster than I will. Especially constantly eating Trace’s cooking. “I have a question. I know the super artsy snowflakes are Beau’s, but how in the heck did you cut a nativity scene into that one?”
“It’s not hard.” It wasn’t, you just have to know how to fold the paper. Also, you have to visualize the area to cut out. “Okay, maybe there’s more to it than normal.”
“Easy for you to say. You got all of Mom’s art genes. And Dad’s brainiac genes. Also, all the athletic ability from Uncle Kyle.”
“And you got all of the whiny ones from whatever dog we owned at the time apparently.” My brother has always been under the impression that I’m the more gifted brother. He forgets how brilliant he is in front of a crowd. He will work his way to the Supreme Court one day, I have no doubt.
“But, Beau,” he whines, stretching my name into an impossible number of syllables. I respond by rolling my eyes when he grins at me. “Hey, when do we get to open presents?”
“Now, please,” Harmony pleads.
