Christmas Cavalier by Harper Pugh & Heather C. Myers

Author:Harper Pugh & Heather C. Myers [Pugh, Harper & Myers, Heather C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Star Publishing, LLC

The walk up the hill felt longer than usual, my boots crunching over the snow with every hesitant step. I told myself it was just another day, just another shift in the library. But my body betrayed me—palms damp in my gloves, breath catching every time the memory of his mouth on mine flashed across my mind. By the time Charlie’s house came into view, hulking and shadowed against the white drifts, my stomach was a knot of nerves I couldn’t quite untangle.

I knocked, my knuckles grazing the weathered wood. A pause stretched before the door opened, and there he was. Same scowl, same scars, but something different too—an edge in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Morning,” I said softly, hoping my voice didn’t tremble.

He gave a grunt, stepping aside to let me in. No warm greeting, no easy words, but he didn’t shut the door in my face either. That counted for something.

The air inside felt charged, like static before a storm. We moved quietly through the house, not quite looking at each other, both of us pretending nothing had shifted between us even as we both knew better. I headed straight for the library, grateful for the excuse to put my hands to work.

I was three quarters of the way through the cataloguing now. Neat stacks lined one wall, boxes filled with titles carefully recorded in my notebook. I told myself I’d focus on the task, that I’d lose myself in the rhythm of brushing dust from spines and writing neat lines of script.

But the lie crumbled the moment I felt his presence.

Charlie lingered at the edge of the room, silent, pretending to sort through something on a table. Every time I glanced up, I caught him watching me. And every time his eyes met mine, my lips tingled, my heart gave a traitorous little flutter, dragging me back to the moment when his mouth had crushed against mine, when the fire had burned hotter than the storm outside.

I bent over a shelf, forcing myself to hum, to scribble notes, to act as though nothing had happened. But the truth gnawed at me. I couldn’t forget. I didn’t want to forget.

Because every glance, every shared breath in that dim room, reminded me of how much I’d felt in those kisses—how much I still felt, even now, standing only a few feet away from him.

The stacks of books were supposed to be my anchor, my way of proving to him—and to myself—that I belonged here for more than just… whatever this was between us.

But the truth pulsed steady in my chest: I was in deep now. Too deep.

And no matter how hard I tried to steady my hands or slow my heart, I couldn’t pretend otherwise.

At first, I told myself I’d keep my eyes on the books, on the task in front of me. But the longer I worked, the harder it became to ignore him.

It wasn’t just the scars, though they drew the eye—the jagged lines across his jaw, the burned skin that tightened when he frowned.

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