Page 67 of Christmas Magic

“Well, I can’t stand being down on the floor while Tim’s wailing.”

“Help me,” the kitten cried to Daisy. “Puh-weez! I’m gonna dwown.”

“Molly said she’d be careful, and she will.” Leaning down into the sink, Daisy touched noses with the kitten. “You don’t know her well yet, but I do, and you can trust her. Now, I’ll stay right here. I’ll be with you until your bath is finished. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Tim mewled.

Working quickly, Molly lathered the shampoo and then rinsed the kitten using a plastic cup.

Just as she wrapped Tim in a towel and rubbed to dry his fur, she heard the front door open.

Lucian was home.

Her stomach clenched. Turning, she faced the doorway into the kitchen.

Tim squirmed. “Can you put me down now?”

Lucian walked in and set his keys on the counter. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Molly said.

Seeing the plastic container of Cora’s cookies, he reached for it.

“Don’t spoil your dinner.” Molly fought to keep her voice from wobbling. “I’m going to order Chinese takeout tonight.”

“Sounds good. I’m sure I’ll still have an appetite. I’m starving.” Lucian took a bite of a sprinkle-covered Christmas tree. “Have you tried these yet? They’re really tasty.”

Molly shook her head then set Tim on the floor. His fur still damp, Tim limped into the living room. “Finawwy! I’m fwee. Woo.”

With a worried meow, Daisy bounded after him.

Strained silence settled in the kitchen. Molly set down the towel and, trying not to heed her aching heart or her soaked clothes, leaned back against the counter.

Lucian took another three cookies from the container. He put one in his mouth, and her gaze settled on his full, beautiful lips. He hadn’t tried to kiss her—and he always greeted her with a kiss when he arrived home. She yearned for the softness of his mouth wandering over her lips and skin.

“Lucian—”

“You want to talk? Well, here I am.” He went to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and sat. Leaning back, he gestured to the vacant spot opposite him.

Hope flickered inside her. Maybe since their earlier discussion, he’d come to realize things weren’t right with him. If so, he’d made progress.

She pulled out the chair and sat, folding her arms in front of her on the table. Willing herself to be patient, she waited for him to speak first.

“Roberta came to the store this afternoon.” He brushed up cookie crumbs with the side of his hand. “She said I’d been acting strangely.”

Tears pricked Molly’s eyes. “You have.”

His lips pressed together. “She asked for you, but you’d left.”

“Did she say what she wanted?”

“She implied she had important information to tell me. She said she might be partially responsible.”

Molly frowned. “Responsible for—?”

“I have no idea. Maybe you’ll find out.” His jaw hardened. “She started to explain but I got a phone call. A good thing, too. Can you believe she said I’m not a knight? That I just think I’m one?”

Such torment etched his features, Molly reached across the table and touched his hand.