He untangles his hand from my forearm and slides it across mine on his cheek, his fingers slotting through mine and closing as he lifts it and pulls it to his mouth, pressing his lips against my knuckles.
It has never been such a good thing that I’m already sitting down.
He settles our joined hands to rest between his collarbone and shoulder, tucked under his chin, his hint of stubble grazing the back of my hand, and I close the fingers of my left hand gently around the fingers emerging from his cast, rubbing my thumb over them carefully, still astounded that he trusts me so much.
His injuries are the only thing stopping me from kissing him. Every part of my body is alive and tingling with the desire to do just that, and at the same time, I’m warm and relaxed and comfortable. I settle my head down against the back of the sofa and curl in a bit tighter, wishing the wall of cushions wasn’t between us, smiling at him when he mirrors my position. It’s been a long time since I felt this peaceful and at ease with someone.
Chapter 12
I’m alone when I wake up on the sofa, but I’m covered with the red-and-white fleece throw that I definitely don’t remember putting there, and my hand twitches instinctively like I can still feel the weight of his hand in mine and the warmth of his fingers where they were intertwined. I groan as I stretch and put my legs down to try to get feeling back into them. It’s been a long time since I spent a night curled over on the settee, and even longer since I spent the night with a man, even if it wasn’t in that way.
I lean around the corner so I can see into the hallway and spot my keys on the doormat where he’s posted them back through, and another Post-it Note reading “Thank you ~ J” is on the coffee table. The light filtering through the glass in the front door shows it’s nearly daylight and I can’t help wondering how long he’s been gone. How did I not wake up as he moved around? How did I fall asleep with him in the first place? The last bloke I actually slept with was Brad and that was only after we’d been dating for months. I barely know James and yet somehow I can be comfortable enough to fall asleep with him.
I stretch out like a starfish and slide halfway off the sofa, groaning again as I heave myself up and go over to unplug the Christmas tree lights that got left on. Hanging on a branch at the front is a tiny, blocky, glittery nutcracker that I don’t recognise. It’s carved from a single block of wood, with painted green legs, a red torso, and a black hat. It doesn’t have a lever, or a face, or the traditional furry hair and beard. It looks like the sort of thing you’d find inside a Christmas cracker and I remember James saying he used to make them. It must be from him.
It’s later than I thought when I check the clock and I quickly shower and scarf down a couple of Christmas-tree-shaped crumpets before I dash out the door to meet Stacey on the way to work.
James’s car is already in the car park, and there’s a light on in the back of his shop when we get in. There are quite a few shopkeepers in early judging by the number of lights on, and there’s not yet a gap in the line of nutcrackers that run down either side of the lane, all the way from the entrance door to the tree lot at the opposite end. And even though James and I got involved in setting them up so they’re standing side-by-side like an army hand-in-hand, a line through every shop window and along the ground, I have to admit it’s an impressive sight when you walk in.
I’m even more impressed when we open the shop door at nine and there are already a couple of shoppers wandering around. Could the nutcracker army being sent out into the streets be working already? In the past couple of days, James and I have divided a thousand of his nutcrackers into boxes for every shop and asked every owner to hide them around their local area. It’s Friday today, and everyone has said they’ll hide them on dog walks and days out over the weekend, so hopefully it’ll gain a bit of attention by Monday.
Stacey and Lily hid some last night on the way home from school, and James and I took the scenic route back to my house and poked some into hedges and trees and stood them at my neighbours’ garden gates and leaning against their garden walls.
Within five minutes of being open, I’m behind the counter serving a lady buying a hand-painted “Joy to the World” sign that shows the words entwined in a reindeer’s curled antlers and has got 3D paper poinsettias glued on and leaves a trail of glitter everywhere it goes, when James pops his head in the door and grins at me. ‘Hey, can I—’
‘You’re wearing an elf hat!’ I feel like a Christmas tree when someone’s just plugged the lights in at the sight of him. And it’s not just the elf hat. Although it is adorable. And something I never thought I’d see him wear.
He does the Flynn Rider smile that’s so wide, it’s almost like he has to speak from the side of his mouth to accommodate it. ‘You said you like people who throw themselves into the season and aren’t afraid to wear silly things. I think this qualifies.’
I quickly finish the transaction and the lady nods at him as she leaves. ‘It suits you, dear.’ She turns back to me. ‘You know you’ve got a handsome man when he can
