* * *
Morning light shines into the bedroom, and I pull myself awake. After last night’s horse-drawn carriage ride and picking out a tree, we had fun at Santa Claus Land, and came back here to watch a Hallmark movie. I might have made a big deal about Josie forcing me to watch, but whatever. We all know I like sappy Christmas movies, and watching it with Josie made it even better. In fact, doing anything with Josie by my side breathes new life into me, into everything we’re doing. I smile as I think of her. I love the way her laugh wraps around me, and how the warm chocolatey scent of her skin drives me crazy for a taste. I swear if I don’t soon get another, I might spontaneously combust.
Picking a tree out with her last night filled me with a warmth I’m not familiar with, and I love that she decided on a ginormous Douglas fir that will eat up her entire living room. My Christmases were mostly spent alone, and the one thing I learned early on is that it’s not the tree, or the gifts under it—it’s the people around it that make Christmas special. I can’t wait to sit around the big Douglas fir tree with Josie and Mabel on Christmas morning. The tree should be delivered later today, and since Josie doesn’t have a single ornament, or if she does, they’re in storage somewhere, I’m going to get supplies to make our own tonight before the tree gets delivered.
Yesterday she had to work late because of me. I was the one to put all the orders in, delivered to friends and family in the Boston area. She had to get a new phone because of my stupidity, and since I can’t come right out and tell her I found hers, or give her the money to pay for the replacement, buying a shit-ton of chocolate was my only option to make up for my momentary lack of judgement. A measure of guilt eats at me as I look at my travel bag on the floor, her phone tucked safely inside it.
As if sensing I’m awake, Miss Mabel claws at the door, and I jump up, tug on some clothes and greet her quietly. I’m sure Josie hasn’t slept in since getting the dog, and I like helping her out. Being with Mabel isn’t a hardship. She’s a loveable girl who just needs a bit of training.
Her tail wags wildly when I open the door, and I hush her. “Let’s let your mom sleep in,” I say. The word mom makes me smile. Yesterday Josie said I’d be a good dad and I balked at the idea. The truth is, I want what my friends have. I just don’t know how to get it, and there’s something about me that drives women away. Everyone eventually leaves. Look at my own mother, and my stepmothers. I was never enough for them.
Would I be enough for Josie?
Whoa! Where the hell did that thought come from? I barely know her. Sure, I like everything that I do know about her, and it’s easy to tell she’s a good person with a good heart. Which makes me wonder why she’s still single. She’s a real catch and any guy would be lucky to call her his.
I’d be lucky to call her mine…and not in a pretend way.
My stomach tightens. Jesus, am I really thinking about this?
I shake my head to clear it. I’m going down a rabbit hole I have no right to go down. She’s a nice girl—not at all the grouch I thought she was when Declan picked her out for me. I don’t want to get involved with her. Don’t want to? Correction, I do want to, I just can’t. I mess everything up and I don’t want to mess her life up.
What if I didn’t screw things up with her? What if I did everything right and she left anyway?
“Come on, girl,” I whisper, and grab Mabel’s leash. I text Josie to let her know we’re heading out, so she doesn’t wake up and worry I’ve dognapped Mabel. I quietly open the door and we head outside into the cold, which Mabel seems to love. She jumps into the snow, runs her face through it, and I take joy in the sight of her playing. We walk to the park, and do some training, then off to the grocery store for tree supplies. The streets are quiet this Sunday morning and I’m able to move through them quickly without stopping for too many autographs.
By the time we make it back to the loft, Josie is pouring a generous amount of coffee into a big mug. I take one look at her in the kitchen, her hair a tumbled mess down her back, and wearing baggy PJ pants and a T-shirt. She turns to me as I admire her, a smile on her face. My heart lurches. When was the last time someone looked at me like they were truly happy to see me? I’ve been with lots of different women, but the warm, happy smile on Josie’s face is genuine, unrehearsed, and it hits me differently. She hands me her cup of coffee and a strange, unfamiliar feeling courses through my veins. It wraps around my heart and tugs me off balance.
My God, I really like this girl. Is it possible that we could be more than friends, that I wouldn’t mess it up, that she wouldn’t eventually leave?
“Thank you,” she says, her voice soft and sleepy, and so damn sexy I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself in check. I hold the cup up, and while I’m working to keep my shit together, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like waking up with her every day, coming home to her every night.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I haven’t had a cup yet. Didn’t want to wake you up by banging around in the kitchen.”
“You’re sweet.” I stand there dumbfounded. I’ve been called a lot of things, but never sweet. Sweet talker yes, but not sweet. She bends to pet Miss Mabel. “Hey girl, did you have fun with Brody?” Mabel’s tail wags harder and she abandons her mom, and comes back to me. “Traitor.”
“She knows a good thing when she sees it,” I tease.
“Yeah, she does.”
My head snaps up, and I catch the soft smile, the almost dreamy look on her face when our eyes meet. She takes a breath and exhales slowly, her focus shifting to the bag in my hand—like she needs the distraction. “What did you buy?”
I hold the bag up. “Tree decorations. I wasn’t sure if you had any, and I thought we could do homemade stuff.”
I set the bag on the counter, and take out the popcorn, and cranberries. She goes perfectly still when she sees them. Shit, she hates this idea. “We can get bulbs, I just thought…” I’m about to pack the stuff back up again when she puts her hand on my arm.
“No, I love it, Brody.” She lifts her head, her brow furrowed. “It’s funny, you seem to know everything I like.”
I shrug. “Maybe we just like the same things.”
She picks up the bag of cranberries. “This is exactly how I like to decorate.” She smiles, and I guess she’s remembering happy times.
“When I was little, we used to make gingerbread men and hang them too.”
“We can do that, but I suggest we hang them high.” I point to Mabel. “Otherwise, we’re likely to wake up to a very full dog, and a bare tree.”
She laughs at that and the sound goes through me. “I never thought of that.” Her nose crinkles “Maybe this year we’ll pass on that idea. Perhaps we can do it next year, when she gets older, an
d is better trained.”