Page 43 of The Christmas Romance Wish

“Which part?”

“My flight getting canceled, the avalanche, the kiss?”

“The first two, sure. The last one, no. That was nonfiction.”

Emmie’s laughtinkles like bells.

“Since I closed up the cabins, you can stay in the guest bedroom.”

Shuffling inside, she says, “I need to find a new place to live, never mind stay for the night.”

“You can stay as long as you’d like.” The words are out of my mouth before I think.

And no sooner do I show her to the guest room, does she collapse on the bed, out like a light.

It takes me longer to wind down and diffuse the adrenaline from the snow slide, the kiss, and the drive home.

I take a warm shower, my mind on the woman a few doors down. Can I make the time between now and when she leaves special? Memorable? I’ve led squadrons of men on special ops all over the world. I’ve dodged bullets. Taken a few. I’ve survived to tell the sordid tales and found the courage to do so to a veritable stranger. I invite men who’ve suffered similarly and worse into my home. Remind them of purpose and duty downrange.

Surely, I can help Emmie have a merry Christmas.

And wouldn’t you know it, I fall asleep to visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.

The next morning, I’m up early as usual. I check on Ginny and the other horses that board at Eaglewood. Everyone is warm in their stalls. Even though it’s still snowing, later, I’ll bring them out for exercise. I need some too after being cramped up in the Jeep all of yesterday.

I throw some logs on the fire, brew a pot of coffee, and make eggs with homemade toast. I scramble around for anything remotely festive.

Emmie will have a speckled red camp mug for her peppermint mocha, a green and gold plaid napkin that I got as a wedding favor years ago, and a white plate for her golden scrambled eggs—I made them extra cheesy. Pleased with myselfbecause this is one of those thoughtful things Gram would’ve done for me, I give a nod of recognition to the spread on the table. Well, it’s a bit cobbled together, but I hope it makes Emmie smile.

A short time later, she appears, as fresh as the snow that continues to fall outside but wearing a Grinchy scowl.

“Good morning?” It’s more of a question than the greeting I intend.

She grumbles.

“Not a morning person?” I ask.

She bites her lip. “Not an embarrass myself in front of you multiple times and show my face the next day kind of person. You must think I’m such a baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“About yesterday...”

My stomach sinks. Does she regret kissing this grizzled old vet who’s sometimes moody and doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body? No sooner do I have the thought than I realize the story I’ve been telling myself. Lived experience and the table setting suggest a new plot.

She stares at her hands. “I’m sorry if you felt like you needed to kiss me to make the hiccups stop. I realize how annoying that must have been with us trapped in the car for hours.”

Stepping closer, I say, “You’re kidding, right? I thought we decided that this is a nonfiction story.”

Still studying her hands, a smile plays peekaboo on her lips.

Pinching her chin between my fingers, I say, “Miss, if that’s the duty of a serviceman like me, I’ll gladly make the sacrifice every day for the rest of my life.”

Her expression brightens and our eyes meet as I lean close, inhaling her vanilla marshmallow scent. “Do you regret it?”

Emmie’s lips part. “No. Not even a little bit.”

“Good, because pretending not to be attracted to you was getting exhausting.”