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Alrighty, then. A smile played about Vi’s lips despite the warning bells sounding off in her head.
He scooched the chair closer. His warm, citrusy breath tickled her ear. “Will you look at me?”
And drown in his soft gray eyes? No thanks. Searching for a compromise that wouldn’t completely undo her, she focused on a razor nick on his neck. A powerlifter heaving weight had nothing on her thumping heart.
His fingers nudged her chin upward. “I meant what I said in the text last night. I love you, Red.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
His slate eyes riveted her in place. Her gaze drifted back to his throat, and her forefinger touched the nick where a tiny spot of blood had hardened. His large hand covered hers.
“You cut yourself.” Inane, but any sensible thought had airlifted to parts unknown. His nearness magnetized her. Heady stuff for a girl who hadn’t had a date in years.
Her hand slid to cradle his jaw. She relished the wiry texture of his carefully trimmed beard. He groaned, shutting his eyes for an instant. Then he kissed her knuckles and rose. “I’ll see you on Christmas Eve.” He slipped away as quietly as he’d come. His gait seemed much improved.
She sat in the chair for a long time. Christmas music continued to float around the room. Members strolled in, toting bags of clothes and gear. Others left in a fast clip, while Vi felt detached—life as usual seemed light-years away. Her world had eclipsed to a single stand-alone truth. No way she could misconstrue his words.
Rory loved her.
What a precious gift.
Minutes or hours later, Vi gathered her purse and tote. Cyrus would be restless. She stopped at the front desk to purchase Rory’s gift on her way out.
Antsy, Vi scraped the last spoonful of a dark goopy concoction from the slow cooker onto parchment paper. She needed a breather before Rory showed. Brenna arranged crackers around a pecan-covered cheese ball. Paige opened a drawer, moving items around.
“I forgot to bring plastic wrap and can’t find any.” Paige stared at the kitchen cabinets as if it would magically appear.
“Rory might have a roll.” Brenna reached for another box of crackers.
Paige whipped out her phone, thumbed a few keys, then moved to the counter and slid a pan of bacon-wrapped jalapenos into the oven. The rich scent of chocolate wrapped around the room. Cyrus stretched under the table, eyes trained on Vi.
“What’s the agenda tonight?” Vi squirted dishwashing soap into the ceramic pot.
“Besides eating?” Brenna nibbled a cracker. “Food, gift-opening, maybe sing Christmas songs. An informal get-together before we go our separate ways.”
“Rory’s bringing over the wrap.” Paige set her phone aside and peered into the oven.
Vi tapped a piece of the cooling candy—still too tacky to move. “Cyrus, come.” The dog obediently rose and came to her. “I’m going to take Cyrus for a walk before everybody gets here. He’ll behave better.”
“Don’t be gone too long.” Paige’s eyes drilled into her. A wave of cheesy bacon flavor rose into the air.
Vi gave her a weak thumbs up. They both knew she was avoiding Rory.
By the time she buttoned her coat and donned gloves, Cyrus pranced about, his huge paws barely missing her feet. “Cyrus, down.” She gave him a wry look when he instantly became a statue. “Good boy. Let’s walk.”
Tail wagging, the dog didn’t seem to mind the chill as they crossed to a neighboring street. Cyrus sniffed at various smells along the curb. The wonder she’d felt at Rory’s confession had evaporated, leaving her a jittery mess.
Sighing, Vi looked heavenward. “God, I should have come to You first instead of stewing. You’ve already promised to help without fussing.” She trundled along on the sidewalk. Small white clouds puffed the air when she exhaled. “So, I’m taking You at Your word.”
“Rory says he loves me, but I don’t know how to respond. What’s my next step?” Her breath caught. The truth dampened the joy and lightheartedness she’d felt with his pronouncement. The streetlights beamed haloes of white into the darkness. Shadowy lawns brightened with manger scenes and Santa sleighs. No humans were around to poke fun, and Cyrus paid no attention to her musings. Finally, she murmured, “The last thing I want is to hurt him, so … I’m asking You what to do.”
Stilling her mind, she pressed forward as if to hear when a phrase popped into her consciousness.
Open your heart.
Her walking boot snagged on an uneven crack. Vi staggered, then righted herself. Cyrus whirled, tilting his canine head at her as if to ask, Are you all right?
“I’m fine, bud.” She reassured him as he trotted back to sniff at her boot. “Walk, Cyrus.” At her command, he moved forward again, careful not to rush. As if he sensed the boot slowed her down.
Vi’s gaze shot upward. Even though logic insisted she was tumbling down a rabbit hole, a deep peace settled over her. The phrase echoing through her with such clarity revealed what lay hidden for years. Fear lay at the root of her refusal to go out with Rory. The idea of allowing a man access to her heart petrified her. She’d vowed never again after the disaster with her first and only boyfriend.
