“No wonder you like this store,” I whispered.
“Why do you say that?”
“Books. You love books.”
Gregg smiled. “Caught on to that, huh?”
“I’m an observant one,” I said with a wink. And my cheeks were back to hurting again because I couldn’t stop smiling. He just made me so . . . happy.
We grabbed our coffee mugs—ceramic, not paper—and I followed him to a soft seating area near the back. “This is my favorite spot,” he said as he settled in like he owned the place.
I scanned the books in arm’s reach. “Children’s books. You have a lot at home too.”
He worried his bottom lip but then seemed to come to some decision. “I wrote a story ages ago, but I haven’t had the time or inclination to illustrate it yet.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Paige has been my focus since the moment I knew she was coming into the world.”
He reached for a beautiful book with watercolor oranges and pinks on the cover, paged through it, crossed an ankle over a knee, and sipped his coffee.
Everything about him looked content. That hovering loneliness vanished.
And suddenly the gift Edie had helped me choose for Gregg made sense.
“Well, maybe now you can get back to it,” I whispered.
“I’d like that.”
And I’d love to make getting coffee here with him a habit.
Christmas Eve started with an evening stroll. Gregg joined Murphy and me as the sun set and the neighbors turned on their holiday lights.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “The lights. This neighborhood. This city. I love it here.”
“Yeah, it’s a great place to settle down.”
“All that’s missing is snow.”
“There’s still tonight.”
“I’ve been waiting a month now. My roommates think I’m crazy.”
“I like winter, which is why I never considered leaving Minnesota.” He shrugged. “It’s home. Not that I’ve ever been one to take risks. I never wanted to travel the world, let alone strikeout and put down roots in a new place. Instead, I live vicariously through Paige’s adventures into adulthood and the journeys I go on when reading books.”
“Not a risk-taker, huh?”
“Nope.”
“I am. Not always intentional, mind you.”
He smirked. “And how does that work?”
“I have ADHD, so I’m impulsive. I act before I think, which usually ends up in some risk-taking I later regret.”
“I’ve always had to be more careful,” Gregg said on a sigh.
“Had to? Why’s that?”
“Because once, I wasn’t . . .”
When he didn’t continue, I mumbled, “Cryptic.”
Another sigh. “Remember I said I had Paige when I was young?”
“Yeah.”
“I was sixteen. Heather got pregnant our first time.”
“Wow.” I wanted to stop and have this conversation face-to-face . . . but maybe the reason Gregg finally opened up was because he wasn’t looking at me. I still took a peek his way, though, and he looked lonelier than I’d ever seen.
“Yeah . . . wow,” he said with a low chuckle. “We got married for all the wrong reasons. We weren’t in love. We were friends who messed around and ended up on a road neither of us expected.”
“And you’re still friends, so that says something.”
“Yeah. And we raised a great kid, in part because we had supportive families. My house . . . when my great-aunt moved into a nursing home, she asked if we’d housesit. Very fortuitous.”
“I’d say.”
“She left it to me in her will. Without that, we never would’ve made it. So to see you hurting, missing your family, not having a home base, not having a clue what your future holds, it . . .” He rubbed his chest as if it ached, then stopped at the corner. When he faced me, tears glistened in his eyes. “I wouldn’t change a thing about the way my life turned out. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Paige. So it hurts to see your father reject you. I can’t even imagine turning Paige away.
“I’m so sorry, Sawyer.” He cupped my jaw then, thumbed over my brow, my cheekbone. “You don’t deserve this.”
“I know,” I whispered. I gripped his slim hips and pulled him in for a hug I so desperately needed. “Thanks for giving me a place that feels like home. That makes it all better.”
He held me closer, fingers carding through my hair. “Anytime.”
I pulled away enough to look down at him, and he smiled. He licked his lips. My temperature rose despite the frosty air, and impulse took over.
I leaned in, brushed my lips over his. He drew in a startled breath I took advantage of to deepen the kiss. I opened to his fiery mouth, licking over his velvet tongue, and nerves fired in every direction. My feet, my balls, the top of my head, my fingertips.
Heart racing, I deepened it again. He kissed me back, experimental, tongue searching. Then his fingers on my jaw slid down my neck, palms on my chest, and the kiss faded away to nothing.
He stepped away from me. Back. And I realized he’d pushed me away.
A chill blanketed my torso.
I couldn’t open my eyes.
I didn’t want to see him.
I couldn’t handle it if he gazed up at me in horror.
Or worse.
I knew I’d see questions. So many questions.
So I kneeled at Murphy’s side and buried my face in his neck. “You ready to go home and get some supper.”
Murphy’s tail thumped against my arm, so I focused on grabbing the loop on his leash and headed toward the house.
Gregg was silent at my side, footfalls quieter than they had been. When we walked up the front porch, I went first. I opened the door and wiped Murphy’s paws before leading him into the kitchen where I filled his food and water bowls.
I’d just kissed the first man who’d been genuine with me, forcing myself on him rather than reading his actions as platonic.
Parental.
Because that’s what it was.
But how would I know the difference?
My father had rarely given me affection. So to have a man touch me like Gregg had done so many times . . . and so tenderly, well, it sent a host of erroneous signals to my brain.
I slipped up to my room without awareness of Gregg’s presence in the house. I needed time to figure out how to come back from this utter and complete fuckup. Or maybe to pack and leave.
“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” drifted up the stairs.
I spun to face Gregg. He stood, haloed in warm light at the bottom of the wooden stairs, and clutched the finial on the newel post, as if he needed help supporting his weight. Which made me feel even worse.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice choked. “That was impulsive. I read things all wrong. And I’m so sorry I put you in this situation.” I thumbed at my bedroom door and backed up a step. “I’m heading to bed.”
“What about supper? Hamburgers on the grill.”
I shook my head and gave him a sad smile. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh . . .” He released a weary sigh. “Just promise me one thing?”