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Bea tentatively opens one eye, then bursts into laughter. The box of ornaments rattle and clink as she giggles, lightening my heart.
“You look ridiculous.” Her eyes glisten as she laughs.
“Yeah? Well, I’m not the one stuck on a stool in the dark.” I step over a small photo album. “Give me the box, daredevil.”
“I can manage.” She clutches the closet door to steady herself.
“You don’t need to do everything on your own to prove you're capable, Bea.” I take the box from her, tucking it under one arm, then offer her a steadying hand. “You’ve kept me in line for years. That’s no easy task. Ask anyone.”
She eyes me as if deciding whether I’m feeding her a line of bull or not. Her smile widens into a sheepish grin, and her cheeks pinken. Her delicate fingers wrap around my grease-stained paw, drawing attention to yet another difference that sets us apart.
“Watch your step,” I caution, handling her as carefully as possible. “No telling what might have broken.”
“I’ll get some candles and clean this stuff up.” She steps to the hardwood floor with bare feet, sidestepping the box of spilled contents. “You get off your feet and rest. No telling what you threw out of whack in that ditch.”
“I told you, I’m fine.” I flex my muscles and pat my taut abs. “Fit as a fiddle and able to throw you over my knee if you give me any more lip about it.”
“Hmm...that might be fun.” Her eyes sparkle as she tugs on the band wrapping my head. “But only because you’re so stinkin’ cute wearing Grandma’s sewing light.”
“Careful there,” I caution, more for myself than Bea. “You don’t want to find yourself on Santa’s naughty list this year.”
“Oh, but maybe I do.” She runs her fingers over my jaw, cradling my cheek in her palm. She winks as she playfully jostles my chin with her fingertips. “Bossy.”
“I could say the same,” I growl, tamping down the urge to pull her to my chest and kiss the sass right out of her.
She’s as adorable as she is tempting. I expect nothing less of my Honey Bea but require more restraint from myself.
CHAPTER 5
***
Bea
Roman turns toward the door, leaving me briefly in the dark, literally and figuratively. I’ve known him for most of my life. Not once has he ever come across as anything but brotherly. Something’s different about him today. I felt it this morning in his stare and now in the tone of his playful banter.
I squat to pick up the items on the floor but stare at his backside as he lumbers to the table by the door instead. He places the box of ornaments on it, then turns to face me. The light shadows half his face, but it doesn’t hide the feral look in his eye. He doesn’t take his eyes off me until he returns to the spot of the unfortunate box spill. I’m love-struck and mesmerized by his stealth and size as he hovers over me, so close I could climb him like a tree.
