Room at the Inn

Martin polished off his cookie, and the question settled around them. Carson surprised himself by hoping his father would say Before my son came home.

Bec

ause he was doing better. Only marginally better, but he was here. They were working. They hadn’t argued all day. And even at his own house, his father had seemed different the past week or so. His sniping had a pro forma quality to it, and he’d gotten livelier during their poker match.

He needs you, Julie had told him. Just you.

Maybe she was right. He had to admit, she was right most of the time.

“It’s hard to lose a wife,” Martin said finally, looking out the window.

“Especially hard when she’s Glory, I imagine,” she agreed.

Martin glanced at her. “You have no idea.”

But Carson had some idea. A faint inkling of what it would be like to have the center knocked out of your world.

The knowledge didn’t make him happy.

Chapter Nine

“How quiet do we have to be?” he asked.

The first Christmas guests had arrived. Carson figured he was officially in the B&B on sufferance, so he needed to be on his best behavior. Julie hadn’t made him fork over money for the room yet or threatened to make good on her original threat to kick him out after three weeks, but he wouldn’t put it past her if he ticked her off.

It was midnight, and they lay stretched out on the couch in her attic apartment, watching some chick flick and drinking eggnog spiked with a very expensive bottle of brandy he’d found in Julie’s pantry. Which he realized after he’d opened it had probably come from Leo.

He kissed her neck, loving the way she felt against him. Soft and rounded and drowsy-warm.

“Vewwy, vewwy quiet,” she said. And giggled.

“Are you drunk?”

“Certainly not.”

But she lolled her head back and just about fell off the couch.

“You’re wasted.”

“Not a chance.”

“On eggnog. I didn’t know it was possible to get wasted on eggnog, but you’ve done it.”

“I’m mildly tipsy.”

“All right, Miss Mildly Tipsy. I’m putting you to bed.”

“Aren’t you going to take advantage of me?”

“I take advantage of you when you’re sober. When you’re drunk, I hold your hair.”

“I’m not going to puke.”

“Your credibility disappeared when you started speaking in that Elmer Fudd voice.”

“Aww, Wabbit. I wuv you.”

Carson ignored the thing that was happening in his chest and maneuvered around until he could get her in a fireman’s carry. “Don’t knee me in the nuts.”