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Erin frowns. “Was?”
“My brother was killed in action.” Saying the words never gets any easier.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she says gently, squeezing my hand.
I summon a smile. “My friend Ryder out there,”—I point toward the waiting room—“feels responsible for me now Luke’s gone. They served together. Luke threw himself in front of Ryder and saved him from the bullet that killed him.” I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with a woman I’ve known for five minutes. Erin seems kind, and there’s something cathartic about confiding in a stranger.
Erin shakes her head and clucks her tongue. “I think that man feels a lot more thanresponsibilityfor you.”
Whatever he feels, it’s not the aching, yearning need I have for him . . . and never will be.
Four
RYDER
Within fifteen minutes of disappearing, Charity is back, her right hand wrapped in a fresh bandage with instructions to take it easy.
“So, there’s a Christmas tree place close to the studio. It’s still open if their website can be trusted.” Charity sounds determined.
I heft a sigh. I did promise. And I don’t break promises, no matter what.“Come on then, Sparkles.”
“Ha, ha.” She gives me the evil eye.
A smile spreads over my face as I guide her from the hospital.
The Wright Tree is a few miles past the studio, and even though I have an avid dislike of all things festive, I have to admit, it’s pretty cool. Trees of all kinds stand in rows, and Charity seems to know exactly what she’s looking for as she moves with ease through the gaps, stopping to gently feel the branches of a couple of potential replacements.
Temporary floodlights have been erected so shoppers can see in the dark and cast a warm glow over her, highlighting her highcheekbones, her long neck, and her cute button nose with its smattering of freckles.
“Why aren’t you wearing a scarf?” I ask as I catch up with her, unwinding mine to place around her neck.
“I didn’t get a chance since you went all Neanderthal on me and insisted we go to the hospital.” Her full mouth twitches with a smile, softening her words.
That smile does all kinds of things to my body—namely, my cock, which is swelling behind my zipper. “I wasn’t about to take any chances with you.”
“Right. Why would you?” she mutters so quietly I almost miss it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glower.
“Ooh! I think I’ve found it!” she squeaks in excitement, ignoring my question.
She’s looking at the fluffiest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen. Its branches are full and lush, and it has a perfect, even shape.
“It does look good,” I admit.
We pay for the tree, and she says something about fetching some guys to help load it on the truck. I shake my head and pretend it isn’t as heavy as it looks as I load it onto my truck by myself, nearly giving myself a hernia.
Once the tree is secured and we’re about to climb into the truck, Charity’s head snaps around.“Oh my God, I forgot about the Magic Beanstalk truck,” she breathes, her blue eyes lighting up as they land on the truck parked outside the store. “I knew I could smell Christmas cocoa. It’s the best cocoa in the—" She breaks off, looking at her watch. “We don’t have time.” She casts her eyes downward, looking sad for a moment before shrugging and continuing to get in the truck.
I can’t stand the disappointment she tries to shrug off. “Woah, there. What are five minutes going to matter?”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and my shaft twitches again. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. And I could use a hot drink. But we’ll have to drink it in your truck on the way to the store.”
“Fair enough.” I nod.
We make our way over to the short queue, and Charity orders a medium Gingerbread House for herself and a large Peppermint Chocolate for me.
And she’s right. It is delicious.
