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“And so humble, too.”

The corner of his mouth curls up, the sign that he’s trying to hide a smile. This entire situation is strange. Staying with my boss is strange. Getting to know him well enough that I can tell when he’s hiding a smile is strange.

But I like it.

And even now that the movie is over, I can’t stop looking down at his hand there on the couch, can’t stop tracing the veins that run across the back of it, can’t stop wondering if it’s cold or warm. What it would feel like, heavy in my palm. If he would swipe his thumb over the tender skin of my hand, make me shiver at the touch.

“Cami?”

“Sorry.” I clear my throat, raising my gaze to his face, watching the way the fire flickers over his features. He really does have such a gorgeous house. It’s been wasted all these years without decorating. The fireplace, now adorned with several stockings, feels festive and cozy.

“Things are easier when you’re alone.” Patrick looks like he didn’t mean to say it the moment it came out of his mouth.

“That’s not true,” I rush to counter, like I always do with him.

“Sure it is. Having…relationships just opens you up to logistical problems. Conflict.”

“What about when you need to move?”

“What?” He laughs, eyebrows shooting up. “First, I haven’t had to move in years. Second, I would hire professionals—not ask someone I know to come and touch all my stuff.”

“Someone you know,” I scoff, reaching out and pushing against his shoulder. “Well, if you ever move, let me know. I have a friend with a truck.”

Patrick shakes his head, his eyes trained on me almost in awe. It makes my blood feel extra hot in my veins. “I get the feeling you don’t listen to a word I say.”

“Only the correct words.”

“Which, from your perspective, would be none of them.”

“Not true. You said It’s a Wonderful Life was good.”

Patrick opens his mouth to say something more, and I realize his forehead is nearly against mine. I suck in a soft breath, my eyes darting back and forth between his, like I can read what’s in his brain somewhere between his left and right retinas.

“I…” Patrick starts, and I wait for him to finish that sentence. To admit how lonely his success has made him. To admit that he misses his parents, or at least having a family. Having friends. It must be such a lonely life, to only interact with people when you want to buy a business from them. When they’re your employee.

And despite myself, despite knowing it’s a terrible idea, I find myself thinking I could step in. I could bring color into his life. I could take his hand and lead him into my family’s house, right into the belly of the chaos, and show him how much fun it is to let go and ride the waves of familiarity. Love. Companionship.

And then, like a cold splash of water over our heads, Patrick’s phone rings.

He moves instinctively, like a mother bird twitching her head, reaching for the phone, pulling it out from his pocket, and clicking on the screen before I’ve even had time to blink. To process the fact that he’s standing up, shaking his head, walking in his stockinged feet to the edge of the living room.

“No, no, Chris! Not busy at all. It’s all right. She’s in the bath. You know, a little me time. What’s up? What can I do for you?”

Patrick disappears into his office, his voice muffling behind the door, and I’m left sitting on the couch alone, staring at the flickering fire, wondering if I should draw myself a bath, after all.

CHAPTER 15

PATRICK

Chris is talking about the trip.

On the other end of the line, he’s mentioning a hike. A midnight venture to see the northern lights. Asking if the fiancée or I have any food allergies he should let the kitchen know about. If I get seasick.

I listen to him and answer robotically, sure hoping Cami doesn’t have any allergies I don’t know about. Maybe we should have gone over that in our discussion of favorites that first day.

I’m on the phone with Chris Moreno, and Cami is in the living room alone.

And I should be paying full attention to this call. Should be picking up any hints that might get me closer to this sale. But I’m not. I’m thinking about the look on her face as I got up from the couch, answering the phone.