to feel the same way. And you have a choice now, you know. You can keep Christmas as a time of year that makes you unhappy, or you can decide to let it in and make some of your own traditions.”
“Like margaritas in bed in a cheap motel?” she said, mustering up a sassy smirk. This was all too raw. She needed to retreat.
Part of her figured he would argue or sigh that she was ditching the serious tone of the conversation. But he didn’t. After a second, where he searched her face with an intensity that was unnerving, he nodded.
“Exactly. Margaritas in bed on Christmas Eve. I like it.”
“Then I’ll get you another one.” Blue popped up out of bed and took their empty cups off the nightstand. She went to pour them refills, but first she lifted the lid of her suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, and not because it was cold outside and she was about to open the door.
She wanted to be covered up.
Christian watched Blue dragging on a shirt and cotton pajama pants and tried to make some sense of his complicated thoughts and emotions. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear to God he had fallen head over ass for this woman.
He liked everything about her, from the sound of her voice to the way she tilted her head, to the vulnerability she buried beneath sassiness. The way she had readily agreed to breakfast with Roy, the ancient motel owner, said a lot about her heart, and he liked her sense of humor, the way she was determined to remain aloof and always cracked.
When they left this motel, he didn’t want to never see her again.
He wanted to date Blue out in the real world and everything about that stunned and excited and scared the shit out of him. Never having had this instantaneous response to a woman, he had no freaking clue what to do with it.
So he tossed back the bedding and got out of bed. The one thing he could do was brave the cold himself instead of having her do it. “No, Blue, I’ll get the bottles. I’m the one who stuck them out there. And you’re a freeze baby, while I’m clearly not.”
“A freeze baby?” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and smiled at him in amusement. “I’ve never heard that expression before.”
“Where the hell have you been hiding?” Christian didn’t bother to put his shirt on, and he was already wearing his boxers. Good enough. Two seconds of cold wasn’t going to kill him. A glance behind the curtain of the window to the parking lot showed it had actually stopped snowing. “Stand back, miss,” he joked in a country drawl. “This is man’s work.”
The eye roll from her was expected, but she did back up and ripped open a pack of peanuts on the table. “I do have one Christmas tradition,” she said unexpectedly.
“Yeah?” He threw open the door and waited for her to elaborate as he grabbed the tequila and the mixer, ignoring the biting wind that cut into his flesh. He couldn’t exactly complain that the cold hurt after pulling the macho act.
“Before the big Christmas party at the nursing home, I go and do the ladies’ hair for free.”
Christian paused, half bent over, touched beyond belief, and forgetting all about the icy chill seeping into his feet. God, he was falling hard for Blue. Crazy, out of control, illogical, wanted to write a goddamn love poem falling for this gorgeous woman.
“I mean, it’s not a big deal, it’s just they like to feel good about themselves when their families show up for the party and I . . . I like to talk to them. They’re very sweet.”
He could almost hear the blush on her and as he stood up, Christian turned slowly with the bottles in his hands. “I think that tradition rocks, Blue.”
She put her hands on her hips and she nodded in conviction. “You know what? It does. It totally does.”
Christian kicked the door closed with his foot. “You rock.”
She took the tequila out of his hands and grinned. “I do, don’t I?”
It was that moment that he lost
“Like margaritas in bed in a cheap motel?” she said, mustering up a sassy smirk. This was all too raw. She needed to retreat.
Part of her figured he would argue or sigh that she was ditching the serious tone of the conversation. But he didn’t. After a second, where he searched her face with an intensity that was unnerving, he nodded.
“Exactly. Margaritas in bed on Christmas Eve. I like it.”
“Then I’ll get you another one.” Blue popped up out of bed and took their empty cups off the nightstand. She went to pour them refills, but first she lifted the lid of her suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, and not because it was cold outside and she was about to open the door.
She wanted to be covered up.
Christian watched Blue dragging on a shirt and cotton pajama pants and tried to make some sense of his complicated thoughts and emotions. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear to God he had fallen head over ass for this woman.
He liked everything about her, from the sound of her voice to the way she tilted her head, to the vulnerability she buried beneath sassiness. The way she had readily agreed to breakfast with Roy, the ancient motel owner, said a lot about her heart, and he liked her sense of humor, the way she was determined to remain aloof and always cracked.
When they left this motel, he didn’t want to never see her again.
He wanted to date Blue out in the real world and everything about that stunned and excited and scared the shit out of him. Never having had this instantaneous response to a woman, he had no freaking clue what to do with it.
So he tossed back the bedding and got out of bed. The one thing he could do was brave the cold himself instead of having her do it. “No, Blue, I’ll get the bottles. I’m the one who stuck them out there. And you’re a freeze baby, while I’m clearly not.”
“A freeze baby?” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and smiled at him in amusement. “I’ve never heard that expression before.”
“Where the hell have you been hiding?” Christian didn’t bother to put his shirt on, and he was already wearing his boxers. Good enough. Two seconds of cold wasn’t going to kill him. A glance behind the curtain of the window to the parking lot showed it had actually stopped snowing. “Stand back, miss,” he joked in a country drawl. “This is man’s work.”
The eye roll from her was expected, but she did back up and ripped open a pack of peanuts on the table. “I do have one Christmas tradition,” she said unexpectedly.
“Yeah?” He threw open the door and waited for her to elaborate as he grabbed the tequila and the mixer, ignoring the biting wind that cut into his flesh. He couldn’t exactly complain that the cold hurt after pulling the macho act.
“Before the big Christmas party at the nursing home, I go and do the ladies’ hair for free.”
Christian paused, half bent over, touched beyond belief, and forgetting all about the icy chill seeping into his feet. God, he was falling hard for Blue. Crazy, out of control, illogical, wanted to write a goddamn love poem falling for this gorgeous woman.
“I mean, it’s not a big deal, it’s just they like to feel good about themselves when their families show up for the party and I . . . I like to talk to them. They’re very sweet.”
He could almost hear the blush on her and as he stood up, Christian turned slowly with the bottles in his hands. “I think that tradition rocks, Blue.”
She put her hands on her hips and she nodded in conviction. “You know what? It does. It totally does.”
Christian kicked the door closed with his foot. “You rock.”
She took the tequila out of his hands and grinned. “I do, don’t I?”
It was that moment that he lost
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