Christmas in His Bed

Lucy nodded and headed out the door.

Tatum smiled up at him. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“You know I do. But we’ve got all night,” he promised, his gaze shifting to her full red lips. “And I plan on taking advantage of that.”

She shivered. “Who said last night’s offer was still good?”

He smiled. “It’s still good.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her green eyes narrowed before she whispered, “I’ll hurry.”

He nodded, taking in every nuance of her reaction. The dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, parted lips, the quickening of her breath... When their eyes locked, he wanted to lose himself in her—to bury himself deep and never come up for air.

“Tatum?” Lucy called from the front porch.

She blinked, smiled up at him and headed out the door.

He stood watching them run across the snow-covered lawn to Lucy’s waiting car.

Loving Tatum had been as easy and natural as breathing. They’d been inseparable, snatching every spare moment together. How many nights had he scaled the side of the house to meet her on her roof? How many nights had they lain there, staring up at the stars and sharing their plans? Plans he’d severed for her. To protect her. Even though driving her away had made every day for the next two years an exercise in survival. He swallowed, watching Lucy’s car pull away from the curb.

Now they had time, time he wanted with her. So he needed to get the damn lights up.

He worked quickly. First things first, he dragged her tree inside, ready to decorate. Then he worked outside, finishing the roof and dormer windows, wrapping the rest of the porch railings and hanging lights around the front windows. He stood back, looking up at his handiwork.

“You’re a Christmas light superhero.” Tatum’s voice reached him.

He glanced back to see her, holding two large bags of groceries. “Got it?”

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“There’s two more,” she said. “If you can grab them, Lucy can head to Mrs. Medrano’s. I think I made her late.”

“I think Mrs. Medrano can be five minutes late for her weekly bingo game,” Spencer said, hoping to reassure her. “But I’ll get the groceries.”

“Thanks.” She hurried toward the front door.

He opened the back door of Lucy’s car.

“You okay?” Lucy asked him.

He frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t get all defensive. I’m not being your shrink—I’m being your cousin. The one that knows how devastated you were after your breakup and Tatum left, remember? So I’m worried about you, sue me.” Lucy sighed. “What is it with men acting like they have no emotions? Like it’s some weakness or something. News flash—women like men that emote. Not cry their eyeballs out, but emote.”

Spencer laughed. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that.” He paused. “I’m good. I’m glad she’s back.”

Lucy nodded. “I thought you might be.”

He scooped the two bags of groceries from the back. “Have fun tonight.”

“You too,” she said, giggling. “I’m pretty sure you’re not going to need this, but here. In case you need my sofa to sleep on.” She held out a key.

He hoped she was right, that he wouldn’t need it, but he took it anyway. “Thanks.” He slammed the car door and headed back to the house. It looked good. No one on the neighborhood decorating committee could complain now—his mother included. He pushed through the front door, gently shoving the door shut behind him. He put the groceries on the counter and placed the eggs and milk in the refrigerator before he saw Tatum’s shopping bags sitting—unpacked—on the counter.

“Tatum?” he called out.

No answer.