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She sits back on her feet and puts her face in her hands with a groan. “I’m so sorry, this is nuts—”
“It’s okay,” I shrug. “Really, sweetheart, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“Okay,” she murmurs, biting into her rosy bottom lip. I have to fight the urge to cup her face and run a thumb over her lips, just to see if they’re as soft as they look. “Okay, I—um—so,doyou have any plans this Christmas?”
Do I? No. I was just going to buy a six pack of a nice beer and drink it on my couch while watching Die Hard or something. I’d much rather spend it with a pretty thing like her. She’s worried about coming off crazy but what’s crazier is that I’m actually sitting here in the grass with her, considering her offer.
I don’t even know her fucking name yet, and yet I’m ready to spend my Christmas with her.
“Don’t most people go on dates before committing like this?” Not that I would really know. Having a fling here and there over the years hasn’t really taught me anything about starting or ending relationships. Though they never made me feel like this girl does.
“Most people have time for dates. I don’t.”
I can’t help smiling. “Well, we have that in common at least.”
When she smiles back at me, her hazel eyes glinting gold, my heart stops. Fuck. I don’t know this woman, but I’m already wrapped around her finger. How could I say no to her? Boyfriend? Fuck it, she could ask me to marry her, and I’d do it right here and now.
Maybe I hit my head at work, or inhaled something weird. A girl as pretty as this, asking a guy like me to be her boyfriend out of the blue? This could all be some coma dream or whatever. And yet, I know it’s real. The way I feel right now is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.
I get to my feet and hold out my hand to help the pretty young woman stand. She dusts off her hands and knees, delicate hands pale against the dark fabric of her coat. She seems so small and fragile next to me. I’m nearly six and a half feet tall and built big from working with heavy machinery, so most people feel small next to me, but that doesn’t usually make something in me surge with heat.
It’s different with her.
I want to protect her, to keep her safe and warm in my arms. To make whatever upset her go away. To make her feel ecstasy. She’s a complete stranger and she really could actually be insane, but somehow, I don’t think that’s the case. She isn’t trying to pull a fast one on me.
Those eyes of hers are too open and honest for that. She meant it when she asked me to be her boyfriend, whether she meant it literally or not. Whatever she intended with her question, she needs help.
The more I think about it, the less I have to lose.
Fuck it. Feeling like this has to mean something, right?
“To answer your question,” I begin, “No, I don’t have anything planned for Christmas.”
She freezes, her hands in her pockets. “Really?”
I nod. “I’m more concerned about the fact that you had a panic attack, though.”
She bites her lip as she puts her shaking hands in her coat pockets. She looks warm enough for now, but as soon as the sun starts dipping behind the mountains, it’ll get even colder. The image of her wrapped up in my own coat and scarf flashes across my vision, and something dark within me purrs with pleasure at the thought. I snap back to reality when she starts to talk.
“It’s a long story,” she explains. “But basically, my family is expecting me to show up with a boyfriend for Christmas.”
“And you don’t have one.”
“No, I don’t,” she sighs. “I’m too busy with classes and keeping my scholarship, but they don’t really get that. And I made a joke and they didn’t get it. So now they think I’m bringing someone to see them.”
My brow furrows. Something here doesn’t feel like it’s checking out. “And this was so upsetting that you had a panic attack?”
She nods, looking more upset by the second. “They’re just going to tease me all week when I show up alone.”
If it’s just teasing, it wouldn’t make her react like this. It sounds more like bullying. The dark, hungry thing inside me begins to growl. I don’t like how anxious this is making her. It’s like they can’t see how perfect she is already. She doesn’t need a man at all.
Before I can think better of it, I lift a hand to brush away the fresh tears beginning to fall down her cheek. She takes a shaky breath but leans into my touch. My heart soars.
“Why do you go at all if they treat you like that?” I ask her.
“I missed Thanksgiving already. I don’t want the guilt on top of the teasing.”
“What’s missing one year though?”
