“I’ll be back soon,” he promises. “Swear to me you won’t go hunting for a pig in this snow.”
“Maybe Hunter has access through his barbecue joint…”
Gray waves me off with another laugh and lets himself out through my bedroom door. When he’s gone, I take a deep, cleansing breath and collapse back onto my mattress. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, watching the lazy drift of dust through the sunshine streaks. Even the motes are sparkling like fairy dust this morning, that dreamlike quality having not fully shaken off my reality yet.
God, did last night really happen? Am I projecting all this right now, convincing myself that my high school crush seriously rocked my world?
The muscles in my thighs tense, remembering before my brain does how Gray tried things I’d never even thought of. I’ve always craved him, even when I was too young and too immature to be fixated on such things. But like my diary revealed, my lust for him was limited by my own inexperience. Inexperience which hasn’t been much improved over the years, with only a handful of boyfriends who lasted more than a month. Gray touched me in ways that had never before occurred to me. He made me feel—
I put a hand to my stomach, having to work to steady my breathing even now.
What does all this mean? After one night together, I’m in no position to ask Gray what his plans are for us. Hell, there is nous. He’s on suspension, and he’s only staying in Little Haven begrudgingly. As soon as suspension is up and the sports networks have forgotten about his mini scandal, he’ll go back to work in New York and it could be another decade—or much more—before I see him again.
I should be practical about this. After all, I read the fucking magazine that Dr. Montgomery was pressing me about. I know Gray has gotten around with his fair share of swimsuit models, and one quick stopover with his hillbilly best friend’s little sister hardly merits a lifetime commitment. I have my inn to think about, my own problems that require attention.
I pull my pillow out from under my head and place it over my face, letting loose a strangled yell into the cotton.
Shoot—it smells like him. Instantly, my body reacts all over again, my stomach tightening and my jaw tensing.
He didn’t touch me like this meant nothing. He didn’t talk to me like I was something he could tag for later and discard when needed.
Gray had his own hesitations when he followed me into that barn last night, and he chose to fight through them. He chose me, and now neither of us can take it back.
I pull the pillow down to my chest, hugging it tight as I roll over and curl up. Maybe… maybe I could choose to lean into this. Maybe I could choose to take a chance.
Voices sound from down the hall, and I roll over to listen.
“—Starving,” a man is saying. My eyes widen. That’s got to be the honeymooners, finally emerging from their love den. “And I think I’ll need to take my coffee through an IV this morning.”
“Hmm, has someone lost their vigor and vim?” The girl laughs, and I hear a slapping sound. I cover my mouth with the pillow so I can chuckle as the man yelps; she must have spanked him.
“Excuse me? Should I drag you back to the bedroom and show you my vigor and vim?”
“And risk someone hearing us like the couple we heard last night?” The girl snorts. “These walls arethin, Martin.”
“Deeper, baby, please… Fill me up…”
My cheeks burn as the girl giggles and another playful slap sounds.
“Stop it, Martin! I willnotlet you take me against this side table…” More giggles, and I bury my face further into the pillow, suppressing both my laughter and my unseen embarrassment. “Okay,maybeI’ll let you take me against this side table. But make it quick…”
I throw back the covers and race for my discarded clothes. I can’t let the honeymooners sully my grandfather’s handmade table by the staircase entrance.
And I’m not sure I can risk getting turned on all over again, either. I smile to myself, half-hoping Gray will give the couple more things to giggle about when he gets back to my room after his basketball practice.
***
“Good gracious, that right there is a work of art!”
Lindsey swoops past me in the tiny shop, snatching up a particularly ostentatious wreath decked in dozens of shining Christmas ornaments and multi-colored lights. I half-smile as she holds the thing out for Baby Kate to see from her wrapped position, like she’s attempting to educate her child even now on the finer aspects of over-the-top Southern Christmas decorations.
I’m glad I invited Lindsey to shop for decorations with me this morning. Her taste may skew on the same side as some of the bouffant-haired, hat-wearing little old ladies from church, but she’s funny as all get out. Plus, there’s something exciting about having Gray’s sister along for the morning. Lindsey and I have always been friends, but now it feels like I have some fun, secret connection to her.
Lindsey squeals and points across the shop. “Molly, you have to get that!”
I follow her past miniature trees and overwhelming cinnamon and pine candle displays to a life-sized Santa statue. Lindsey’s cheeks bloom pink as she attempts to hoist the thing in my direction.
“Can’t you just picture the cute li’l photos people will take with this big guy? You can put him right up at the front of the barn and he’ll be the hit of the party!”