Christmas Carol

He’s right. There’s a pull between us that I’m not sure can be denied. I don’t even think that I want to deny it. We’ve laughed together, talked and I mean, I’m a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. It’s not like I want my V-card. I just haven’t met a guy who ticked all of my boxes. I don’t want to become my mother who changed men like most women change their underwear. Still, I figure if I chose Cyrus, that’s one guy in twenty-seven years. I think by the time my mother was twenty-seven there were probably twenty-seven men.

I’ve worked hard to stand on my own. I’ve sought my family out, instead of run from them, and I work hard to make sure both myself and my sister are self-sufficient. I never want either of us to be in a position where we have to depend on anyone again. Krissy and I have both lived that life—although separately. I probably had the better part of the deal, because my dad was a good guy, but still the years of my childhood left enough marks that I have a drive in me to always achieve better… do better.

“It’s obvious you’re dying to open your shop Bebé, so tell me what is holding you back?” Cyrus asks and I look at the man that I think I’m becoming obsessed with and decide to tell him what I would never tell my sister.

“I made a promise to Krissy that I wouldn’t desert her. I’m afraid she’ll see me wanting to open my own shop as abandoning her.”

“Doesn’t she technically have her own business in the bed and breakfast?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as he tries to understand.

“Well, yeah, but she…”

“What?” he asks, and without realizing it I walk toward him.

“I’m afraid I pushed her into it. She doesn’t love Christmas like I do. There are things she hates like the decorating of the rooms to make it appear like a visit to the North Pole. The ice skating in her pond, she despises…” I sigh. “I pushed her into it, because I knew she’d excel at it, and her mortgage payment was big. She needed to be able to bring in money for her home. She doesn’t love it though. So, I feel guilty. Heck, about the only thing she enjoys is the greenhouse and things I pushed her to get. I thought if everything was green and renewable there on the property it would attract more travelers…”

“That’s smart, Bebé,” he says and it’s simple words, but it feels like a praise and it’s silly, I guess, but I feel like the sun shines down on me and warms me from the inside out. My dad was a great guy, but I didn’t get a lot of praise—if any. Cyrus is giving it and in a way that I doubt he realizes it. For some reason, that makes it even more precious to me.

“Thanks,” I murmur, self-conscious, despite the happiness I feel. “The point is, though, what if she resents me opening a shop, when I’ve pushed her to do so much with her farmhouse?”

“I’d think if anything, Carol, she’d be happy.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you move the catering business here, that’s less she will have at her home and less she will need to put up with on a daily basis.”

“I didn’t think about it like that,” I admit, wondering if he could be right.

“It sounds like to me that you need to talk to your sister,” he says, and I nod my agreement.

“I guess so…”

“You still have a couple of hours if you want to go out to her house and talk to her.”

I frown, confused. He’s grinning at me and it’s the kind of grin that makes me feel like he’s completely undressing me.

And I kind of like it.

“What do you mean a couple of hours?”

“I told you earlier, mi corazón, before the night is through I’m going to know every inch of that juicy body of yours.”

I blink.

Juicy?

I blink again.

“What if I said I’m not ready for that, Cyrus?”

“You’ll be ready when it happens, Carol,” he says, quietly.

“You sound so sure,” I mutter, thinking as sexy as his cockiness can be—it’s also slightly annoying.

“It’s my job to get you ready.”

The look on his face makes my entire body feel hot and flushed. I feel this anticipation inside of me that I really should ignore and try to cap, but I don’t.

I don’t think it’s possible.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” I grumble.

He doesn’t bother answering—he just laughs. It’s not a mocking laughter, though. It’s more like he’s enjoying being with me, enjoying this tension between us and since—for the most part—I am too, I just smile and shake my head.

“If we go to my sister’s is that going to postpone your plans?”