When in December (Home Haven #1)

Chapter 23

twenty-three

. . .

Poppy

When I woke up, I knew exactly where I was. Still, my heart seemed to beat straight through my chest. I rolled over and stared back into the light eyes of Aaron Hayes.

He was lying there, right next to me, and all I could do was breathe. He chuckled at something.

“What?” I asked.

“Just looking at you.” His voice was a husky whisper that sent shivers over my skin. I remembered how that voice had sounded, passing over my skin, and I squirmed.

“Something funny?” I asked. “I thought you were going to find a new source of entertainment other than teasing me.”

“Eh.” He shook his head. “I think I already found that.”

His hand dipped lower, tracing the space between my breasts.

My skin burned with renewed heat for him. Goose bumps? Gone.

“I wonder what my friend Vassar would say about this.”

“And here I was, thinking you were imagining me in bed.”

“The mouth that’s forming on you. Is this confident Poppy?”

He was bringing it out in me.

He smiled with one corner of his lips. “Vassar always joked that I would never fall in love. That, out of all of them, I would be a bachelor for life.”

My heart stopped before picking back up a second later.

Fall in love.

I wasn’t sure what to think of the words.

Aaron shook his head as if it meant nothing. Maybe it didn’t. It couldn’t have. It had been a slip of the tongue.

I cleared my throat. “Would your friend be shocked right now or disappointed?”

“Vass? Never disappointed. If anything, he liked the drama. He was always around for a good time, but not exactly a long one. Honestly, he was one of those guys who would do anything for you. No questions asked. Probably would’ve come home on leave at some point and gone to a casino in Vegas and accidentally gotten married.”

“He sounds fun.”

“He was.” Aaron paused, letting his fingertips skate away from me as he rolled over and out of bed.

I watched the cords of his muscles unclench and stretch up to the ceiling as he raised his arms over his head.

He yanked on a pair of sweats from the floor before making his way to the door. “Hungry?”

“Always,” I whispered. I needed to savor every slice of him.

For the rest of the day—strike that—for the rest of the week we had left leading up to the holiday, I felt like I was living in a sort of daydream. I’d never had this kind before though. I’d trained myself not to. My daydreams were of crown molding and the perfect kitchen appliance you wouldn’t mind having out on the counter all the time.

But all my thoughts now were attuned to one thing and one place.

Aaron and the cabin.

The cabin and Aaron.

Aaron and home.

Home.

Aaron.

With the extra hours, I packed myself a weekend bag and ended up staying for most of the week until I had to leave again for more clothes, practically living in Aaron’s oversize gray essentials most of the time anyway.

We’d go to sleep late after he pried me away from whatever section of the house I was working on, finalizing until I couldn’t find any more holiday details to adjust or furniture to move. One room at a time, everything suddenly started to come alive.

Sometimes, Aaron would lead me to bed and tuck me in. He’d kiss me until I was drunk with his touch, and my eyes would flutter closed, even with the lamp on so that he could read another chapter of a well-worn book off the shelf before drifting off himself. The dark circles under his eyes started to disappear.

We’d wake up in bed to a dark morning from the way the trees cut us off from the rest of the world. We’d have a slow breakfast of coffee or tea—whatever I had left in the cabinet from the past few weeks. Sometimes, he’d make eggs. He was pretty good at scrambling. They were never too dry or runny. At one point, Aaron even surprised me before I got back to work one day, picking up fresh produce from the grocery store after I mentioned wanting to make a simmer pot of cinnamon and cranberries. He arrived with some of the best oranges I’d ever had, so ripe that the fresh juice dripped over my fingertips, which he licked clean.

I started to decorate the house for the holiday. Here, there was going to be no minimalism. Only maximalism, until the place was warm, cozy, and full. I could smell the citrus the whole day as I worked.

Often after getting lost in the process, I’d peek over my shoulder and find Aaron looking at me, checking in between his walks with Ozzy or making his way through his small library. He’d run his hands around my waist as I made him dance in the living room to the holiday music he hated but knew I loved, even when it was clear he had two left feet. The dog would try to join us, and I’d laugh so loud that we couldn’t hear the music anymore.

It was just us as I put the final touches on the garland. I fluffed the pillows on the couch, teaching him how to do the perfect center chop to make them look cozier and less showroom. I set the dinner table with white and green candles of different heights and a plaid table runner, which Aaron admitted didn’t look as bad as he’d thought plaid could.

It was all coming together. The perfect holiday was in sight.

It was hard for me to believe. More than that, I had a feeling that I shouldn’t. If I did feel that feeling after all, the one that meant being comfortable and happy, I’d let myself fall too far into all over again and…

I wasn’t a naive girl anymore.

But the week was ending, and I was starting to worry?—

It was too late.

“Are you worrying that pretty little head of yours again?” Aaron leaned over my shoulder to get a better look at me. His fingertips ran a featherlight trail over my cheek.

I sat at the bottom of the tree, making sure that the popcorn garland was the right blend of traditional and vintage. Though the kids had done a good job, I needed more than that for when the photographers got here tomorrow. A few more layers would do the trick.

I tilted my head up to look into Aaron’s eyes, half hooded and at ease. He held me right there, cupping my chin in his hand. Everything was perfect once more.

“Your oven beeped a minute ago.”

“Oh!” I was startled out of his touch as I stood up and made my way into the kitchen.

When I opened the oven door, for once, the cookies weren’t completely burned. A little extra golden around the edges, but they would do.

Hastily, I slid my hands into oven mitts and pulled out the tray.

“Who are you making them for?” Aaron asked. “The photographers?”

That wasn’t a terrible idea, but I’d rather pick up a few than make them. Though the photographers weren’t going to make the promotion decision, it could never hurt to schmooze them with baked goods.

“They’re for Hannah.”

“Doesn’t your friend know you can’t bake?” He cocked his head, staring at the cookies as I pushed the oven door closed and set the tray on top.

They weren’t that bad.

“It was a bet,” I explained, slipping my oven mitts off to give the cookies another look. I placed my hands on my hips, feeling Aaron step closer behind me.

“A bet?”

“I bet her …”

Aaron’s mouth trailed up the side of my neck.

“I bet her …”

“You want me to guess?” he whispered against my skin.

Seemed like he already had an idea.

“You.”

“Me?” The pads of Aaron’s fingers trailed down my body, turning me around until I was backed against the counter. He scooped me up and deposited me there. His touches moved lower. He bent at the knee.

“Yes, you. Me giving in to you.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Mhmm.”

He knelt in front of me and the brand-new countertops, eyes bright but mostly hungry.

I told him so.

“How can’t I be when I’m looking at something so delicious?” He wasn’t talking about the cookies.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh, and I fell back onto my elbows to look down at the sight before me.

My eyes widened. I couldn’t help it; I laughed, the sound bursting from somewhere in my chest, and I pressed a hand over my mouth.

Aaron grinned again. Such a pretty, devilish grin as the side of his face scraped up the inside of my calf, my knee, my thigh.

“I can’t help myself,” he groaned. “I think I need a taste.”

When I got up in the middle of the night, the floor was cold. Oz tipped his head at me, catching to see who was up. His collar clanged against the floorboard before I returned from the bathroom.

The poor dog hadn’t quite picked the spot to sleep yet. He always ended up somewhere between the doorway and wherever was closest to us.

When I walked past him in the hall and onward to the kitchen, he followed me, keeping watch.

“You can go back to sleep,” I whispered to him.

Oz didn’t move to turn around, watching me as I took out a fresh glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the filter. Taking a sip, I looked around the house.

“I’m not going to disappoint myself,” I said, looking back at the dog.

Oz continued to stare at me, as if listening to my every word. He slid down on his paws until he was stretched out along the hardwood.

“I’m not.” Even though I wasn’t sure. I was basically setting myself up for disappointment, no matter how many cozy late nights on the couch I spent with Aaron, knowing full well that this wasn’t just sex though neither of us broached the topic. It wasn’t just the heated moments, where he seemed determined to take me in every room as I completed them to make them even more ours.

“You like it here, don’t you?” I asked him. “I’d like it here, I think, if I were you. Lots of space outside. Bet you never thought you would find a home in the middle of the mountains, did you? Even the snow is nicer here. It’s a good thing that Aaron gets to keep you, huh? He seems like a pretty good guy, and you’ll get to stick around and enjoy the place, I think. Or travel to wherever it is you two are going soon. Is he going to sell the place still? Do you think you can make him reconsider?”

Did I want him to? I realized that when we’d started all of this, if I were anyone else, walking away might’ve been easy. It might’ve been fun even to have the fling. But I wasn’t anyone else. I was me. And if there was anything I should’ve known better, was to think I could do fun or casual.

“Do you know what’s going to happen once this is all over?” I asked Oz.

He raised his gray eyebrows at me.

I sighed. “Yeah, I don’t either.”

The house was coming together. I should be happy. Ecstatic even. That was what I should’ve been focused on now and not anything else, but I couldn’t. Not when I was already itching to get back into bed and feel the weight of Aaron’s arms hold me, molding me into his side like I was meant to fit there. The place was nearly done with time to spare.

It was a miracle.

My first solo project was almost complete. It was all over.

I washed my glass and set it to dry. I tapped the one light off, and I maneuvered back down the hall in the dark like I knew this place like the back of my hand. As if I’d never been more comfortable in any home I’d ever been in before, even my childhood bedroom, where I whacked my shins on the side of my platform bed more often than not.

Aaron was splayed out in the middle of the bed. His arms were stretched to either side, like he was a star. But he wasn’t relaxed. His cheek twitched. Little sounds ripped through his chest, whimpering.

I took a step toward the bed, pausing before taking another.

“Aaron,” I whispered.

He didn’t seem to hear me. He was asleep, dreaming.

“ Aaron , you’re having a nightmare.”

Nothing.

I reached out, gently touching his shoulder. “Aaron.”

His hand swung up, grabbing on to my wrist.

I was startled as he rapidly blinked his eyes open, staring right at me.

“You’re dreaming,” I told him.

Swallowing, gasping for air, he nodded. Reaching out, his arms looped around me, pulling me into bed with him.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

I shook my head against his chest, where he held me tightly, like I was some sort of comfort to him. A shield.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I … I didn’t want to leave you there.”

Aaron gave a low, tired hum and kissed my shoulder.

“Poppy,” he murmured.

“Yes?”

He froze in the middle of whatever he had been about to say. It was easier to talk with someone at night, in the dark. But sometimes, you still couldn’t get it all out.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

I opened my lips, unsure of what to say.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” I said before we fell asleep for another day.

Another morning closer to the holiday.