The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

35. Brenna

35

brENNA

D espite my best efforts at participation, I absolutely cannot focus on reading tonight. If I thought I was ultra-aware of Zach’s body beside mine earlier, it’s like my nerve endings are all on fire now. Just when I think I can’t sit still another moment, Isaac announces that it’s time for him and Sara to get the twins home and in bed.

“You’ve got to be asleep for Santa to come,” he reminds them when they protest. Everyone sets aside their books and stands to tell them goodbye.

“Well, it’s been a long day,” I say once they’re out the door. “I think I’m ready to head upstairs myself.” I look at Zach meaningfully. “Didn’t you say you were pretty exhausted, too?”

“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Totally wiped.”

“Goodnight, everyone.” I throw a wave at the room. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Zach probably has whiplash from how quickly I turn and speed out of the room, dragging him behind me. I don’t slow down as we climb the stairs, not stopping until we’re standing at the window in my bedroom leading out to my roof haven.

Without a word, I lift the sash and climb out onto the dark shingles, heedless of the December chill. I’m just thankful we didn’t have a white Christmas or this would be a slippery proposition. Zach follows and then all at once we’re standing face to face and staring at each other. A sense of awkwardness rises as I search for words. I was so fired up by the realization that he cared for me and the desire stirred by that briefest of kisses that all I could think about was getting somewhere private so we could finish our conversation. Now, I don’t know how to start.

Thankfully, Zach takes the lead, stepping forward until our bodies are only inches apart. He rests his hands on my upper arms and runs them slowly down until our hands are clasped. “So…”

My hands tingle as he brushes his thumbs over the backs of them. “Yes?”

“So this is real?” he asks hopefully as if it can’t possibly be, as if he’s dreaming and he’s asking me to pinch him back to reality. Except it is real. The sweetest reality.

“It’s real. It’s been real for me since Thanksgiving.”

He looks surprised. “That’s when it started for me too. Man, we really wasted a lot of time between then and now.” He shakes his head in dismay.

“It wasn’t a waste.” I squeeze his hands. “We’ve been spending time together, getting to know each other.”

Zach leans down and rests his forehead against mine. “I wanted to kiss you so many times, but I kept holding off because of this dating ban that I set for myself. But we basically have been dating, huh?” He echoes my thought from earlier.

I pull back just a smidge and look at him. “What made you decide to give it up? The ban still has a week left, right?”

He gives me a slow smile. “I realized that the ban was just an excuse. I was using it to keep from having to look at my feelings for you too closely. I’ve been so focused on the search, on finding the woman of my dreams, that I didn’t know what to do once I might have found her. I was scared of making a mistake. But then when we were standing under the mistletoe, I realized that I really, really wanted to kiss you. Not just because I think you’re beautiful and desirable—though I do, just to be clear.”

I breathe out a soft giggle.

“I wanted to kiss you because I…I think I love you, Brenna, and that feeling was bursting at the seams to come out. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way yet,” he says, ducking his chin for a moment. When he looks up at me, his brown eyes are ablaze with sincerity. “If nothing else, I’m a patient man. I will wait as long as I need to for you to decide if you love me too.”

“Thank you.” While I’m pretty sure we’re in the same place, I’m not ready to proclaim it just yet. Zach and me as an actual couple is a new phenomenon that my brain is still adjusting to. So I’m going to hold on to the L word a little longer, until I’m surer than sure. I feel like I owe him that.

“If you’re my girlfriend now—my real girlfriend—does that mean I can kiss you anytime I want?” His eyes are twinkling now, and my pulse quickens as the air between us fills with anticipation.

I grin. “I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s correct.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs to press his lips to mine in a kiss that starts out hesitant and slow but quickly picks up steam as he moves and explores. I can’t believe he’s never kissed anyone before. Let me tell you, the man is a quick learner.

My arms slide up around his neck, and he deepens the kiss, sending heat shooting out to every extremity of my body. How do people kiss in the summertime? It feels like we might burst into flames even in the coolness of the winter night.

When we finally pull away, I suck in a much-needed breath and lean my forehead against his chest, inhaling deeply of his scent like I wanted to do earlier.

“Best Christmas ever,” Zach says, his deep voice rumbling in my ear as he twists to press his lips to my cheek.

“Remember when I said I could guarantee I’d be grateful for you coming with me at Thanksgiving?”

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs.

“I never imagined I’d be even more grateful a month later.”

He tightens his arms around me in the most comfortable embrace I’ve ever experienced. We stand there for a long moment until a gust of wind sends a shiver down my spine despite the heat from his body.

“Let’s get you inside,” he says, dropping his arms and gesturing for me to go through the window first.

The next morning, I wake to the sound of footsteps and excited whispering in the hall. I stretch and snuggle deeper into my comforter until I remember that it’s Christmas—my favorite holiday—and I have a boyfriend—a real one—waiting on me. I can’t get up and get dressed fast enough.

As I pull on a soft red flannel shirt and light-wash blue jeans, I can’t stop thinking about last night. Once we came inside, Zach gave me the sweetest goodnight kiss in the hall outside my bedroom door, then went to his own room, from which he immediately texted me. We kept up a steady stream of messages from the warmth and comfort of our own beds until nearly midnight when my phone battery necessitated that we say good night for real.

Sufficiently clothed, I dash across the hall to the bathroom, thankful that it’s unoccupied. It only takes me a few minutes to freshen up and apply a little makeup, including some red lipstick in keeping with the colors of the holiday. I weave a loose half-braid down one side of my head and gather the rest in a low ponytail that I adorn with a red velvet bow.

I examine myself critically. Too much color? I grin. No such thing. If I like it, I’m wearing it. No more toning down my style.

I open the bathroom door to find Zach waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. His eyes lock on me, and he smiles.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

My stomach swoops deliciously as he pushes off the wall and stalks toward me, his gaze never leaving mine. He stops with only inches between us, and my hands reflexively rise to rest on his chest, his hands cupping my elbows.

“Good morning,” I breathe. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you.” He closes the distance between us but halts just before our lips touch at the sound of a door opening down the hall. We both take a step back and let our hands drop as Heather steps out and eyes us. I can tell by the pinched look on her face that she’s still upset with me. It’s not that we’ve always been super close, but it feels awful to have this obvious thing between us.

“Why don’t you go downstairs?” I tell Zach. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He seems to understand what I’m really asking for and presses a kiss to my temple. “Sure. See you in a minute.”

Heather crosses her arms and watches him go.

“Heather, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” she says, her eyes burning into my face. It seems she’s not going to make this easy. I huff a breath and try again.

“I’m sorry for lying to you about Zach. It was wrong, no matter what my reasons were.”

I watch as myriad expressions flicker across her face, finally landing on hurt. “I get why you didn’t want to tell Mom,” she says. “But why didn’t you tell me? I’m your sister. I would have kept your secret.”

“I don’t know. I guess it just seemed easier to keep it all to myself. But just because something’s easier doesn’t make it right.” I think about all the time I wasted at Springfield & Springfield putting up with garbage instead of looking for a way out, and about the weeks that Zach and I tiptoed around each other instead of saying how we really felt. “I really am sorry. I wish I could go back and make it right, but I can’t. All I can do is ask you to forgive me.”

She stares at me for a moment longer then drops her arms with a sigh. “Alright, I forgive you.”

I launch myself at her and wrap my arms around her shoulders in a deliberately awkward hug, making her laugh as I intended. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She pushes me off and links her arm through mine, leading me downstairs.

The smell of spices and coffee is heaven on earth. Mom always makes homemade cinnamon rolls for Christmas, and this morning she’s outdone herself, if the aroma is any indication.

“There you are,” Mom says when we walk into the kitchen. “I thought we’d have to send a search party for you two.” Her gaze flits over us, taking in our linked arms and smiling knowingly. I can tell she understands we’ve made up and is pleased.

I catch Zach’s eye, and he gives me a smile and the slightest nod.

Heather drops my arm to grab a plate and I follow suit. Soon everyone is laughing and chatting over warm, sticky cinnamon rolls while we wait for Isaac’s family to arrive. This is the first year that we’ve delayed the gifts and eaten breakfast first so that they could have their own Christmas morning with the boys before jumping into the fray of extended family.

We don’t have to wait long, though. Isaac makes a beeline for the cinnamon rolls as soon as they walk through the door. “Phew, I was afraid there wouldn’t be any left.” He looks genuinely relieved.

Sara rolls her eyes. “Just FYI, I fed all three of these knuckleheads eggs and bacon before we left, lest you think I let them starve.”

Isaac grins at her. “They know you don’t let us starve. But there’s nothing like Mom’s cinnamon rolls.”

“I’ll teach you the recipe,” Mom says, patting Sara’s shoulder as she walks past to refill her water glass.

Pretty soon we’re all gathered around the tree like we were last night, full of cinnamon sweetness and contented joy. Or maybe that’s just me.

Dad clears his throat to get everyone’s attention and reads the story of Jesus’s birth from the first two chapters of Matthew. Even the twins are quiet and still—relatively speaking—as he reverently reminds us why we’re celebrating. When he finishes, the stillness lingers for about two whole seconds before everyone starts talking at once.

My mother draws on her teacher persona to get the kids’ attention, naming Kenzie as the official gift distributor for the day. Kenzie proudly plucks the first present from under the tree.

“This one is for…” She flips it over, looking for the gift tag. “Aunt Sara.”

And so it goes, a few gifts at a time. My heart beats faster when she says, “Uncle Zach.” I glance over to where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor beside me to see if he’s freaked out by my niece jumping the gun and adopting him into the family so quickly, but he just smiles and thanks her with a wink. Oh, that wink. It’s been a while since he’s sent one my way, and I didn’t realize how badly I was craving one.

I watch as he unwraps my gift to him, laughing when he sees what’s in the box. “This is perfect.” He pulls out a set of candles that look just like Dr. Pepper cans. Unscrewing the lid, he sniffs and his smile grows. “This smells just like the soda.”

“I know, right? I was kind of amazed that it smelled so good. Now you can enjoy your favorite thing even when it’s not a drink day,” I tell him.

He reaches out and loops an arm around my neck, pulling me over to press a kiss to my hair. “You’re my favorite thing.”

“Here’s one for you, Aunt Bee.”

I accept the small square package wrapped in snowflake paper and look for a tag to see who it’s from.

“That one is from me,” Zach says.

I peel away the paper and open the box to reveal a mug that reads “Give me hot chocolate and nobody gets hurt.” I laugh heartily. “I guess we both went for humorous gifts.”

Zach grins and shrugs. “I just thought it fit since I’ve never met someone who loves hot chocolate as much as you.”

I have to agree. “Thank you. I love it.”

“There’s more,” he says, picking up the box I dropped and handing it back to me. I peer into the bottom and pluck out a thin, separately wrapped square. Carefully, I remove the wrapping, and my heart warms at the images in my hand. Zach picked some of the best pictures of the two of us on our mini-vacation to the Bahamas and had them printed on magnets, including...

“Zach! I can’t believe you were taking pictures instead of helping me when that pig tried to attack me.” I hold up the photo of me taken from the side with my assailant on my heels. It’s not the most flattering shot, but I have to admit it is kind of funny.

“Sorry,” he replies, though his grin says otherwise. “I couldn’t resist. Hopefully you like the other pictures better. I might just keep that one for myself.”

“They’re perfect. I can’t wait to put them on my fridge so I can remember that trip every day.” I pass them around for everyone to see, listening to the oohs and ahhs at his thoughtful gift and describing the pig incident for my confused family.

When the space beneath the tree is empty, I push up off the floor and sit down in a chair next to Dad to thank him for the beautiful set of earrings I received from him and Mom.

“You’re welcome kiddo, but you should really thank your mom. She picked them out.” He pats my knee. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, any leads on a new job yet?”

I try not to let the question sour an otherwise perfect morning. “Not yet. I’ve sent out a bunch of applications, but so far, I haven’t heard back on any of them. I’m hoping once the holidays are over the offers will come pouring in.”

“Hmm, then you might be interested in an opportunity I just learned about. You remember my friend Mark Dailey?”

“I think so. His daughter was a year ahead of me in school, right?”

“That’s right. Anyway, I was talking to him the other day and he said he’s looking to hire an associate. You know he’s always kept the firm pretty small, just himself and an assistant or two. But he’ll be retiring in a few years, and since none of his kids went into law, he says he’s been thinking he’d love to find a bright young attorney who he could feel good about handing over his business to one day. I told him that you were looking for a position, and he said to give him a call.”

My initial instinct is to wave the offer away, say thanks but no thanks. If I remember correctly, Mr. Dailey specializes in estate planning, not corporate where my experience lies. But something stops me. I think back to my conversations with Zach and Isaac about changing career directions. Estate law would be a small pivot compared to the industry shifts they made. And I just admitted that I’m not exactly flush with potential offers at the moment.

“Thanks, Dad. If you give me his number later, I’ll call him this week.”

He pulls out his phone. “I’ll give it to you right now.”

I grab a pen from the coffee table and jot the number down on a scrap of wrapping paper since I left my phone in my room. A thought occurs to me. “His office is here in Knoxville, right?”

“Yes, on Kingston Pike. Been in that location for twenty years now.”

I frown at this. Working in Knoxville would mean moving. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have welcomed the thought, but I would have at least been open to it. Now…now I have Zach, who has a business and a life in Nashville.

“I can see what you’re thinking,” Dad says, and I shake my head, sure he can’t know what it’s my head right now. “Yes, I can,” he insists. “You’re worried about leaving Nashville and moving back home.”

My surprise must show on my face because he chuckles. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been around long enough to know what’s what. You’ve always been nervous about change, and now that you have a young man, I can see why you’d be even more hesitant to come back here.”

“It’s just a lot to think about,” I respond. I look across the room to where Zach is chatting with Ben. “Our relationship is so new. I don’t want the distance to mess things up, you know?”

Dad nods. “That’s a fair concern. But I think you might be putting the cart before the horse. Talk to Mark and see what he has to say. If, after learning more about the job, you decide you’re not interested, then it’s a moot point. And if you do like what you hear, then it will be time to talk to Zach and see if you two can work something out.”

I look at my father with renewed respect. “That’s good advice, Dad. Thank you.”

He lifts his hands to wave away my thanks. “What are dads for?”