Jingle Ball

Though Des smiled and returned her embrace, his jaw had gone hard and tight. “Wendy’s a wonderful secretary and an even better person. You raised a terrific daughter, Mrs. Stanton.”

“Call me Noreen.” With that, she shuffled away from the table with her cup of tea. She probably had no clue about the stink bomb she’d just set off in the center of the kitchen.

From Des’s expression, he was already choking on the stench.

“Look, I can explain—” Wendy began the moment they were alone.

“Don’t.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stalked to the window. It was snowing outside and looked as pretty as a damn postcard.

Inside all she could feel was the arctic chill.

She traced her finger over the wet spot on the table from her glass of orange juice. “You knew I feel grateful toward you. You can’t be that surprised.”

He didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. “No. I’m not.”

“Then?”

The hunch of his shoulders might’ve convinced her he was cold if the apartment hadn’t been as hot as the surface of Venus. “I thought as much, but to have your mom say it is different.”

“What are you talking about?”

He turned to face her, his eyes more turbulent than she’d ever seen them. “You’re not really in love with me. You just think you are because I helped you out.”

Clearly, she was going to have to stand up for this conversation. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I did, but you’re talking nonsense.” She walked over to him and skewered her nail into his chest. He didn’t even wince. His pain receptors had likely gone into hibernation from all her scratching last night. “Am I grateful for all you’ve done for me and my mama? Hell yeah. You didn’t have to be so sweet to us. To me.”

His stubborn nod made her want to kick him. “Gratitude and love are easy to mix up.”

“Don’t make me kick you in the nuts on Christmas morning. So help me, if you don’t let me finish, I will.”

He didn’t smile, but he did gesture for her to continue.

“None of that made me fall in love with you. I didn’t fall for my accountant who got me those extra deductions that saved me a grand last year. I didn’t fall for my garbageman when he said he’d take our old dresser even though the guidelines said it was too big. I freaking fell in love with you because you make me laugh without ever making me cry.” She swallowed over the rising lump in her throat. “At least not yet.”

He stroked her trembling lower lip. She couldn’t stand how emotional he made her, but that was probably p

art of the whole love thing. “What about Cole?”

“What about him?”

“Do you feel grateful toward him too?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” she snapped. “But I don’t love him. I only love you, you dolt.”

Again he didn’t speak. But he smiled, so slow and wide that it teased out her own smile in response. “I believe you.”

“As you should.”

“I do.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “And I love you too.”

Before she had a chance to whoop and holler her joy, he drew back and gripped her upper arms. His face was even more serious than before. “Will you start ripping off the days of my calendar again?”

“You noticed I stopped?”

“Of course I did. I had no clue which day was which anymore.”