Christmas at Evergreen Inn (Jewell Cove 4)

He rolled to his side and she turned her head to look at him. He wasn’t smiling, though, and she wondered if she’d miscalculated by being deliberately light.

“Lainey,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “I … You…” He sighed. “Damn. You blew my mind.”

She might have laughed except she could tell he actually meant it. There was an awe in his voice that reached in and challenged her innermost insecurities. “It was pretty incredible,” she admitted, and she rolled to her side, too, so they were facing each other. No secrets. No hiding.

They lay that way, simply looking at each other, for long minutes until they got cold. “Climb in,” she offered, getting up and turning down the covers. Maybe she should insist that he go. But she’d spent so many nights alone and she had the opportunity to have someone beside her tonight.

“You’re sure?”

She swallowed tightly. “If you don’t want to stay, that’s okay. But if you do … you can. No pressure.”

He got under the covers. “Come here,” he said firmly, and she got in between the sheets as well. The moment the blankets were pulled up, he reached out and looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, fitting his body around hers so that they were spooning.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Warm and soft and naked.” She could feel his lips turn up in a smile as he pressed his face to her shoulder.

She closed her eyes. “You feel good, too,” she answered, focusing on how his hand felt splayed against the slightly softer skin of her belly, how warm his breath was against her hair.

Lainey had missed this. Missed the closeness, the intimacy of being with a partner, trusting him to hold you through the night. That’s what tonight was, she realized. Not just sex, but intimacy.

She wasn’t sure she was ready for it, but she craved it all the same.

He kissed the back of her head and she relaxed in his arms. Todd hadn’t just given her back Christmas. He’d given her back herself. She wasn’t sure what was next, but there was time to figure everything else out tomorrow.

Chapter Seven

Todd woke before Lainey.

The room was still dark, with just enough light from the streetlight half a block away to cast shadows and let him see the angles and curves of Lainey’s face. God, she was beautiful. In the grayness of predawn her tawny skin appeared even more exotic, her hair inky black as it tumbled on the pillow. Her nose was slim and fine, even elegant, and her lips were full and soft. She looked so peaceful sleeping. So trusting and innocent. As he watched, she let out a sigh and stirred a little, then tucked her hand under her cheek and slid back into oblivion, her long dark lashes resting on the very top of her cheeks.

Todd swallowed. He was hooked and he knew it. Last night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t sex for fun. He didn’t just like Lainey; he’d experienced a real and honest connection. Now he was in her bed, and the biggest surprise of all was that he didn’t want to leave.

It just felt … right.

He didn’t want to wake her, so he simply watched her sleep for a long time, until his eyes grew tired. As drowsiness crept in like a harbor fog, he was thinking about how today was Christmas Eve and he’d like to spend it with her.

He was almost asleep when he heard the telltale buzz of his phone, set to vibrate.

* * *

Lainey squinted against the light as she came awake. Her first thought was that she was naked beneath the sheets. The second was that she’d been with Todd and her body responded with a rush of heat.

Only Todd wasn’t beside her in the bed. The sheets were rumpled and his scent was still on his pillow, but he was gone and a quick check showed his clothes were, too. Her heart froze as she heard his truck start, the sound of it fading as he drove away. She sat up in the bed, clutching the bedspread to her chest, feeling strangely adrift. He couldn’t even wait to say good-bye. Or have breakfast or … the ache in her chest spread outward. After yesterday, she’d thought they were starting something special, something important. Instead he was just gone.

Lainey flopped back against the pillows. She reached for her phone on the side table. No messages. Damn, she’d heard of her friends being “ghosted” before—left with no explanation, no contact. But she’d never had it happen to her. Even Jason had given her the bad news face-to-face.

She wanted to give Todd the benefit of the doubt, but she couldn’t think of what would have prompted him to leave without at least waking her to say good-bye. She’d been stupid and gotten her hopes up yesterday. She’d ignored the cautions in the rational part of her head and had put herself out there because she thought she could trust him.

Instead she was alone. Exactly where she was before, only now it felt even emptier because she’d gotten a taste of what it was like to let someone in again.

She slipped into a fuzzy robe and wandered out into the main part of the cottage. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. But a quick scan of the room revealed nothing. The tree sat in a corner, the lights off, the garland dull in the faded morning light. The decorations on the mantel were lifeless without a fire crackling at the grate. Todd’s coat was gone; there was no indication that he’d ever actually been there except for the poinsettia sitting in the middle of the table.

Another Christmas and another romantic disaster. She should have known better than to put up a tree. To get her hopes up. Maybe it was just time to give up. On Christmas and on love.

She couldn’t stand the sight of the Christmas decorations.

Lainey fought back tears as she dug out the boxes again and started putting everything away. Damn him. And damn her, too, for allowing herself to have hope. To get sucked into the holiday, buying into the idea of Christmas spirit or miracles or whatever. She’d been right in the beginning, leaving that stuff packed away. Instead of getting her hopes up, she should have left well enough alone, not gone out to dinner with him, not slept with him for God’s sake.

Tablecloth, centerpiece, boughs of holly and pinecones from the mantel—all back in the box. The angel on the top of the tree packed away, ornaments pulled off and dropped into their box, garland rolled up and stuffed in a corner, mangled and twisted. She didn’t care. She just wanted it gone. She shoved it all back in the storage closet, a sheen of sweat on her forehead from both lugging the boxes and the speed with which she’d completed the task. Then she threw the duvet on the floor, stripped her bed, and put the sheets in the washer. The last thing she wanted was to smell him in her sheets tonight. Instead, the scent of his cologne plus the unique scent of him rose up from the cotton and hot water, making her eyes burn.