Christmas Carol

“If you want time, I can give that to you, mi corazón,” I promise her.

“What does that mean,” she asks, the tip of her sweet little tongue coming out to lick against her lip.

“Corazón?” I murmur, not even realizing to this moment that I had used that endearment. I never have before, I never felt the inclination. Carol might be more dangerous than I had already imagined. “It is something my mother called me before she died,” I answer finally, and I hate that I gave her the truth. I shouldn’t have, and yet I did…

Damn it, what is this little vixen doing to me?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says, staring up at me so earnestly that I can feel a pain in my chest. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard that in my life. I also can’t remember one time that I believed them… I believe Carol…

Shit.

“I’ll give you some time, Carol, but you and I are going to happen. There’s no denying what’s between us.”

“What’s between us?”

“That’s what I said, Bebé.” Shit, I’m fighting with myself to prevent calling her my heart again. “If you need a couple of hours to come to terms with that, then I can give it to you.”

“A couple of hours?” she laughs, but I don’t. I’m not joking about this.

“If I have to,” I reply with a shrug.

“That’s really nice of you, Cyrus,” she answers, her face flushed.

“I thought so.”

“You’re serious aren’t you?” she laughs.

“Very, Bebé. I want you and you will be mine.” She stares up at me, her eyes dilated and round. “Now, how about I give you a ride to meet with the realtor and in the meantime you can open your gift from Ida Sue?”

“Ida Sue!” she squeals. “I hung up on her!” she cries, staring down at my phone that she’s still holding in her hand. I’d forgotten about it, and apparently she had to. My lips spread into a smile.

“She’ll get over it. C’mon Carol, let’s get into town. I’ll even buy you lunch.”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea. We need to talk—”

“We can talk all you want,” I assure her, as we walk to my car.

“Well, at least that’s encouraging,” she says, her posture relaxing as I open the door for her.

“We can talk while you’re naked in my bed,” I add, once she slides into the car.

“Cyrus!” she cries, and I close the door and I do it laughing.

Shit, I haven’t had this good of a time in as long as I can remember.

Carol is definitely dangerous….Carol“What do you think, Cyrus?” I ask him, nervous but excited at the same time.

The shop isn’t huge, but there’s a commercial kitchen in the back that will be perfect for cooking and baking. There’s also a small storage room connected to the kitchen that can hold equipment that we will need when we go onsite. The storefront is my favorite though. It’s wide open with brand new white and blue tile that looks like snowflakes. There’s plenty of room for tables and I can already picture little round tables with bright nickel bases. I could do a beautiful Christmas blue top and decorate with silver garland and twinkly lights. I can picture it so well, it’s almost as if it’s real.

The large window is perfect because it will allow people to look in and window shop. They will have the perfect view of the counter which I can load with some of our best desserts and finger foods that we use in events. There’s even room for a large coffee bar.

“You love it,” Cyrus says, and I turn my attention back to him.

“Yeah, I think I do,” I admit, shyly.

“I’ll just go outside and get some paperwork so you can have it to think about Carol.”

“Thanks, Chelle,” I murmur and then, just like that, I’m alone with Cyrus. My heart automatically beats faster.

He held my hand. That seems like a small thing, but I’ve never had anyone do that before—not even in friendship. We were riding in his car and he just reached over, grabbed my hand and wrapped it in his. It felt like touching a slice of happiness. Joy immediately rushed through me—so much that I don’t really know what to do with it. It didn’t stop there, however. We were way early to meet Chelle, so we drove around town. I showed him my sister’s B & B—we were going to go in, but she wasn’t home. But, somewhere during the ride, his hand had moved over to my leg before finding a home on my thigh. Maybe it was supposed to be a casual touch, but it didn’t feel like it. It heated my skin and even though his hand’s not there now, it feels… branded. Somehow, with just that simple touch, Cyrus has claimed my body to the point I can feel him even when we’re standing across the room from each other.