Christmas by Design: A Holiday Novella by Allie Samberts

Author:Allie Samberts [Samberts, Allie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Beckett

I am an idiot. What the actual fuck did I think was going to happen when I brought up Alex’s insinuations?

In my defense, I thought it was a good idea at the time. I figured we should clear the air, at any rate. She was obviously nervous, and it seemed like a logical conclusion that it was about me. If she had been flirting, then spending the night here with me could be either embarrassing—if that was all she had intended to do—or a step too far, too fast. I guess it didn’t occur to me that she wasn’t interested at all.

I really am a moron.

Did I want her to be looking for something more? Yes. I might as well admit that, even if only to myself. I haven’t been intentionally flirting with her, but that’s probably because I’m just objectively bad at human interaction. I have been looking at her. Thinking about her. And, as long as I’m being honest with myself, wanting her.

But it’s pretty clear now that those feelings are not reciprocated. Which should have occurred to me long before I brought it up. She said the guys in the office harass her. I should have put two and two together.

Never mind that their harassment makes my blood boil.

But we have more important things to deal with right now. Namely, that it’s freezing in here, the snow is coming down so hard outside I can barely see out the window, and Gemma is in the first-floor office with the door shut. Crying, from the sound of it.

Don’t flatter yourself.

Fine. This isn’t about me. But then what is it about, and how are we going to survive a blizzard in a house with no power if she won’t come out near the fireplace?

I decide to give her some space and text my neighbor to ask him to feed my cat. Then, I get the fire going. When she comes out, at least she’ll be warm. Maybe she’ll emerge by the time I’m done.

But when the flames are crackling and dancing in the fireplace, she still hasn’t appeared. It’s getting colder, and I know she hasn’t eaten yet. I don’t have a choice anymore. I have to check on her.

I stand outside the door for a moment, and all I can hear are big, gasping sobs on the other side.

That’s not good.

It doesn’t sound like normal crying. It sounds like panic crying, like she’s having a panic attack just on the other side of this flimsy door. I want to break it down and hold her until it passes, but I don’t think that display of misplaced chivalry will make anything any better.

I settle for tapping softly. “Woodard?” I call roughly. “Everything okay?”

No sooner than it is out of my mouth do I cringe. No, you idiot. Everything is not okay. Am I doomed to repeatedly put my foot in my mouth around this woman tonight?

She doesn’t answer. The sobs get quieter for a minute, but then I hear her gasping as if she’s trying to control it but failing.

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