That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe (Abieville Love Stories #4)

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sara

The grandfather clock gongs again, yanking me from the fog of my intermittent dozing. I crack open one sleep-crusted eye, instinctively expecting daylight, but nope. I’m still in the dark, still sharing a couch with Three, still trapped in this storage room with no escape.

I can’t see a thing, so my other senses kick in, alerting me to the fact that it’s not Three’s feet by my face as we’d planned. It’s not even his legs.

No, I’m directly on top of the man.

My first instinct is to leap up off of him, but I’m worried if I move too abruptly, he’ll wake up and assume I crawled onto him on purpose. Common sense says the best way for me to handle the situation is slowly. Gently.

Don’t wake the sleeping giant.

For the record, this particular giant has one arm cradling my body like I’m the little spoon, and he’s the big one, except we’re lying flat, not on our sides. My face is pressed into his pecs, so his Hawaiian shirt’s probably leaving button-marks on my cheek. Even worse, I’m pretty sure I drooled on him.

My mouth feels chapped and sticky, so I swallow against the dryness, and that’s when the memory of Three’s lips brushing mine sends butterflies swooping around my insides.

But that was earlier. Before we tried going to sleep. Once we settled on the couch, Three was nothing but chivalrous.

He insisted on lying on the side with the broken coil, so I made him take the one pathetic throw pillow to slip between his back and the cushions. Of course his legs stretched way past my armrest, while my legs barely reached his. When Three suggested we spread the single coat over the middle of our bodies for extra warmth, I ended up with the hood up by my face. The fur kept tickling my chin. And honestly? I was still cold.

The thing is, I’d taken my cardigan off to put on my Hawaiian shirt, and underneath the short sleeves, I only had one thin tank top. So while we were sleeping, I must’ve maneuvered my body around and inched my way up into Three’s arms. Now the coat’s draped over both of us, and he’s perfectly still, except for the steady rise and fall of his rock-hard pecs.

How can he breathe with my full weight on him?

How is he sleeping through any of this?

I need to climb off of him soon, because I like spooning with Three a little too much. Also, I really have to pee now.

Like a lot.

Before I begin my slow escape from the top of Three Fuller Mountain, I allow myself to savor the altitude for a moment longer. His heart is beating—slow and steady—a peaceful throb against my cheek. I let our breathing sync up, enjoying the connection, even if I’m the only one who’s aware.

Either way, this is, undoubtedly, the most comfortable pillow I’ve ever slept on. And while his delicious scent—all clean and piney—isn’t doing me any favors in the drool department, Three’s body is cloaking me in warmth and safety. I feel not just protected but cherished .

Oh, come on, Sara. Let’s not get carried away.

Yes, Three and I dabbled in a bit of lip action last night, but he didn’t want to be my long-distance boyfriend ten years ago, and he’s not going to beg for a commitment now. He has a full life in Abieville. I’ve got a new job waiting in the city. Two different-sized spoons in two different cutlery drawers.

A small sigh slips out of me, and Three draws in a breath at the same time. My head lifts right along with the swell of his ribcage, a wave I wouldn’t mind riding for a little while longer.

“Sara?”

Gah! I’ve been caught.

If Three is awake, he’s obviously aware I’m on top of him. My best course of action is to feign ignorance, right? Play dumb. Or possum. Or both.

“Are you still sleeping?” His voice is a deep rumble in his chest, and I put on a show, faking a snuffly yawn like I’m only just stirring, even though I’ve already been fully conscious for several minutes.

“Hmmm,” I mumble. Quite the actress, if I do say so myself. Three reaches out, drawing a finger down my cheek, and his touch is beyond soft. Tender, even. I could play dead forever if this is the kind of treatment I’d receive.

“It’s nine thirty,” he says.

“What?” I gasp and bolt upright, scrambling over to my original side of the couch. “How do you know?”

“I counted nine gongs the last time the grandfather clock struck. There was another gong a few minutes ago, which means it’s more than half past the hour.”

“But the evaluator’s coming at ten,” I yelp.

“I know. I didn’t want to wake you, but I figured you’d want to be ready to get his attention when he gets here. We can position ourselves on the other side of the wall from the bookshelf and shout after the clock strikes ten. Let’s just hope this guy is on time. And not hard of hearing.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“I don’t know.”

“Three.”

“I honestly didn’t get much sleep. I kept thinking about when you asked if there was enough oxygen in the room. And I started worrying about you. Your safety.”

“You said there was plenty of oxygen.”

“And I’m sure there is. But you know how twisted a person’s thoughts can get in the middle of the night.”

“So you just stayed up?”

His silence tells me he must’ve been awake at whatever point I turned my body around to use him as my own personal mattress. “I don’t know how you ended up underneath me,” I blurt. “I must’ve been sleepwalking. Except I guess it was more like sleep-crawling. All over the couch. All over you. But I never would have?—”

“It’s okay,” he interjects, cutting off my rambling. “I was the one who moved you.”

My heartbeat accelerates, and I raise a hand to my flushing throat. “I don’t understand.”

“Your teeth were chattering, and I felt you shivering more than once. I just wanted to warm you up.”

“So you pulled me on top of you?”

“I thought for sure you’d wake up, but you were a sleeping like a log.”

“I guess I was pretty tired after concussion watch.”

“Exactly. So now we’re even.”

“Concussion watch 2.0,” I say. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling this morning?”

“Well.” He lets out a half laugh. “I can’t swear I’ve got the best judgment right now, and some of my choices might be questionable.”

Right. Like kissing me last night. Like sharing a couch with me last night. Like wanting to talk about our past last night.

Then again, I kissed the swell of his forehead first. If he’s going to attach responsibility to his concussion, I’m just as much to blame.

“And of course I probably have some lingering brain fog. But all things considered, I’m feeling pretty good. That’s only because someone’s been taking pretty great care of me.”

My shoulders hitch. “No big deal.”

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he says, “so we’ll have to agree to disagree about the size of this particular deal.” He tugs on his boots. “Either way, are you just about ready to go do some yelling? I can piggyback you over to the wall since we still don’t know where your shoes are.”

I chew my lip for a moment, a trickle of dread creeping up my spine. “Do you really think we’ll get out of here today?”

“We have to get out,” he says. “If for some reason we don’t get the evaluator’s attention, I’ll come up with another plan.” He lays a palm over my hand, and his touch sends a flash of heat straight up my spine. I should probably pull away, but I don’t. “I’m going to take care of you, Sara, just like you’ve been taking care of me. And I promise I won’t let anything worse than a broken skate blade happen to you. Not now. Not ever.”

When he gives my fingers a squeeze, I suck in a breath. I want to believe Three will never let anything hurt me. But what he really should’ve promised is that he’ll never let anything happen to me again .

Because he already shattered my heart once.

And nothing could be worse than that.