Page 115 of The Holiday Makeover

But for one more minute, I let myself stay exactly where I was. Pinned beneath the woman I loved. And more grateful for it than I had words for.

It didn’t take long for her to stir. Her fingers dug into my flesh as if she, too, were checking to see if I was real.

“Good morning.” I let my hand dance down her curves.

Her head popped up, a sleepy smile on her beautiful face. “Hi,” she whispered groggily. “What time is it?”

“Not sure. The power is still out.”

She groaned and fell back against me. “We don’t have time for this. There’s still so much to do. And I can’t finish painting with these temps.”

“I don’t know . . . a day in bed with you. I can get on board with that.”

She playfully smacked my chest. “Christmas Eve is almost here.”

“I know,” I said. “But I don’t think Coco ever really cared if we updated her house. She loved this place exactly the way it was. I think she just wanted to give us an excuse to work together. Something she knew we wouldn’t say no to.”

“She was an evil genius,” Rory giggled.

“Clearly.”

“Regardless, we can’t have a party here with the house in such disarray.”

“We’ll get it done,” I promised. “Let’s just enjoy this for a few more minutes. Besides, it’s cold. Do you really want to get out of bed?”

She sighed and snuggled closer. “Not really.”

Music to my ears.

“How did you sleep?” I asked.

“Good . . . but . . . I was thinking.”

Not my favorite phrase at the moment. What if sometime during the night she had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble?

Had she changed her mind about us already?

For one pathetic second, I prepared to beg her to reconsider like some desperate teenage boy who couldn’t bear the thought of losing the only girl he’d ever truly wanted.

I admit it. I was panicking.

“What about?” I asked, trying to sound calm while holding on to her just a little tighter.

She drew slow circles on my chest with her finger, delaying her answer, which only made my irrational fears grow.

Finally, she let out a long sigh.

Not a good sigh.

Definitely not a you-just-stole-my-breath-away kind of sigh. I’d heard several of those last night.

This was not that.

This was her sigh of consternation. Maybe resignation.

Neither was great for my blood pressure.

“Well,” she hesitated.