“You absolutely did.”
She swatted at me with the dish towel, and I caught it, tugging her close before she could retreat.
“See?” I said, lowering my voice. “No regrets.”
Her laughter softened, melting into a small, almost shy smile. “Not yet.”
“Yet?”
“Give me a few hours to overthink,” she said, but she was teasing again, or at least trying to.
That was when I saw it…the flicker. Quick, subtle, but there. Like a curtain shifting just enough to show what was behind it.
Distance.
Not physical, hell, she was standing against me, warm and real, but something in her eyes that was already half a mile down the highway.
I told myself I imagined it. The mind plays tricks in the morning. But as she leaned up on her toes to kiss me, I couldn’t quite shake it.
“You’re thinking too hard,” she murmured against my lips.
“Can’t help it. It’s early.”
“You’re dangerous when you think,” she said, stepping back and taking another sip of coffee. “I like you better when you just… exist.”
“Exist?”
“Mmhmm.” She smiled, all lazy mischief. “Making breakfast. Looking smug. Saying dumb things about Christmas and compliments.”
“That’s my entire personality, so lucky you.”
She set her mug down and looped her arms around my neck.
“I am lucky,” she said quietly.
That word—am—did something weird to me. It sounded temporary, like a moment she was holding onto before it disappeared.
“Stay,” she said suddenly. “Don’t drive yet. It’s still early.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But the practical part of me, the one that owned a bar, managed a staff, and lived hours away, was already counting the miles.
“I’ve got deliveries coming this afternoon,” I said. “And the poinsettia festival is moving in tonight.”
She groaned. “Your town’s addicted to festivals.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“Fine.” She sighed dramatically and reached up to kiss me again. “But I’ll be there this weekend. I promise.”
I searched her face. “You sure?”
“Of course,” she said easily. Too easily. “You think I’d pass up another chili cookoff or wreath-making competition?”
“I was thinking you’d pass up the drive.”
She looked up at me, her smile softening. “I’ll come. Promise.”
I nodded, but something in her tone, something careful, made my stomach twist. She was trying. We both were. That had to count for something.
