A sense of sadness threatened to take over at the thought, but she forced herself to focus elsewhere. Ivy had a choice to make, after all. Last night, she and Easton had shared some incredible moments. Deep conversation, passionate kisses, and a whole lot of laughs too.
Now, knowing they’d likely part ways tomorrow, Ivy could give in to another day and night of the same—if that’s what he wanted too—or she could rely on her no-dating directive and put things to a halt. The first option, as wonderful as it might be, would leave her vulnerable at the end. Her heart nearly stung at the thought. The second option, like the rule itself, would shield her heart from hurt and her head from worry.
She joined Easton at the table while testing both options in her mind, wondering if he was inwardly doing the same. If he was open to a second night of curling up with her beside the fire, would Ivy really have it in her to reject him and deny herself?
She’d know soon enough where Easton stood, which meant Ivy needed to decide for herself as well.
Already, as she watched the polite way he slid his canteen her way, nodding that she should take a drink, Ivy knew what her choice would be. Men like Easton were few and far between. It might be easy to activate her rule if the attraction were nothing more than physical. But things with Easton went much deeper, and as vulnerable as it might make her—opening her heart to him—Ivy couldn’t really imagine it any other way. If there was a chance this could actually somehow work out between them, she would take it.
She ignored the spot of fear that cut its way in at the thought, and focused on the moment instead. They had today—Christmas Day, in fact—and Ivy planned to make the most of it.
Easton looked over the impressive array of handmade ornaments along the table. Yarn, twigs, and popsicle sticks—that’s really all it had taken. In the firelight’s glow, he watched Ivy fasten the final cross from two twigs, a loving expression on her face as she wrapped brown yarn around the cross-points. She reached for a strand of red next and proceeded to fasten a loop for hanging before tying a small bow in the front.
“There,” she said, a satisfied grin on her face. “We’ve got a dozen of each now. You ready to decorate?”
“Almost,” he said. “I’ve got a little something to make the decorating part a little more…festive.” Easton moved over to his backpack. There, his phone was connected to his wireless charging box. He’d known he’d need to be selective with the power source, considering the duration of their stay was undetermined, but he’d done more than just check the weather and get a tree on his trip out. He’d downloaded a list of Christmas tunes onto his phone as well. Ones that might help Ivy, away from her family as she was, enjoy some of the Christmas spirit she talked about. He’d done something extra as well, but Easton planned to save that surprise for later.
“Here,” he said, propping the phone on the table and pressing play on the playlist he’d made. He started with “Oh Holy Night” and turned up the sound. “Now I’m ready.”
Ivy stared at the phone in wonder, then turned her wide eyes on him. “You’ve got Christmas music on your phone?”
He shrugged, noting the moisture that welled in her eyes. “I was able to download a few songs while checking the weather.”
Gratitude. That’s what he saw on her face as she shook her head and sniffed. “That was thoughtful, Easton. Come here,” she demanded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. She held her arms out to him as he neared her, making her intent clear—she meant to hug him for the efforts he’d put in. That was fine by him.
He stepped into the blessed space between her extended arms, happy to wrap his around her as well.
Ivy curled into his embrace. “Thank you,” she breathed against his shoulder.
It felt nice there, very nice. Ivy’s heated body, silky and soft against his. He closed his eyes and let himself take in the moment.
The soft, beautiful melody lulled them into a longer exchange, their bodies melding together. Ivy pressed her cheek against his chest and inhaled a deep, calming breath, but she didn’t drop her arms just yet. Instead, she began to caress his shoulders, softly, gently, as she held him in place.
A rush of goosebumps surfaced over his skin as she repeated the action. Easton rested his hands at her hips and swayed with her. “Dance with me?” he asked.
She grinned up at him, and rested a hand in his. “I’d love to.”
Easton wrapped a hand around hers, noting the delicate feel of it compared to his. She was so soft and silky and warm. She was sensitive, kind, and rather cheery considering the circumstance. He’d enjoyed the way she taught him to make the simple ornaments, with such a plain and childlike joy. He imagined sitting around a dinner table with little ones and felt the first longings of fatherly desire he’d ever known.
If they could have a mother like her…perhaps they’d be happy and well. Assuming they had a father like him, an inner voice specified. A voice that surprised him. It wasn’t that Easton hadn’t known he was good with the teens he worked with. His past experiences gave him an edge when helping the troubled youth who came through the center. But to see himself as a father? That idea was foreign to him. Until his time with Ivy Ingles put new ideas into his head.
Even as he held her then, her small form warm against him, he had different urges. The desire to love and care for a woman in ways he never thought he’d know. He wanted to keep her safe too. Perhaps the protective inclinations stemmed from his initial rescue efforts as he searched for her in the storm, perhaps they stemmed from something more, he wasn’t really sure. One thing he was certain of was that he was pleased they had more time together.
As the music rang out, the flames doing a dance of their own, Easton flattened his hand along Ivy’s back, willing her to feel what he was feeling. The heat, the connection, the…the joy the song filled in for him.
Yes, that seemed fitting. He did feel joy, and peace too. It was different from the kind of solitude he sought when stepping onto the open land, ready to be at one with nature and his surroundings. Because feeling, in a way, at one with her…nothing compared to it.
When Easton sensed the song was coming to an end, he moved a hand slowly down the length of her back, enjoying the way she curled into him beneath his chin as they rocked gently back and forth. Back and forth. Loving the warmth of her in his arms. The feel of her against his palm.
Gently then, he moved his hand smoothly up the length of her back, lightly massaging her along the way, and rounded her shoulder next. Softly, he traced his fingers over the covered and bare parts alike, backing away just enough to cup her elbows. He couldn’t help but set his eyes on her, testing the thoughts in his mind. The energy in the charged space. Was what he was feeling real? Was she feeling it too?
She glanced up at him shyly, blinking twice before curling into him once more. And then her hands were moving up and over his shoulders, caressing his neck, the broad span of his back, pulling him closer as a sigh passed through her lips. “I’m glad we got stuck in the storm,” she admitted, so softly he almost missed it.
Every part of him seemed to register that tidbit in some way. His pulse rushed, his lower belly went fire hot, and his mind scattered like ashes in a windstorm. He cradled her closer and smiled. “Me too, Ivy.”