Mistletoe at Midnight by LB Gregg

Author:LB Gregg
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2010-03-20T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Dawn broke and the sky was an unimpressive December gray. Jake and I took our morning constitutional, running five miles to the covered bridge and back, and then I hit the shared hallway shower hoping to hell Caleb wouldn’t waltz in and find me in flagrante delicto. Again.

“Open up, Owen.” Those three words played on a permanent loop inside my feeble mind all night, and all morning. That and the real-life feel of Caleb’s cold fingers warming in my palms as he tugged me almost on top of him—I should have made the shower ice cold. It had been so long since another man had touched me, even in my dreams, that I was in an embarrassing state.

I could handle my erection—literally—it was the rest I wanted to hide from.

I put the sticky shower gel to good use. Water rained on my shoulders as I rested a palm against the tile, bit my lip and lathered myself into a knee-weakening froth. The process took about thirty seconds before I slumped against the shower wall, my come dribbling down the drain. It was quick. I wasn’t sure how much it helped because I still couldn’t shake the memory of Caleb’s green eyes reflecting in the firelight last night as he’d turned away.

Unless I planned to spend Christmas alone in my lacy room entertaining myself with the shower gel, I needed to join the other guests for breakfast. God help us all if my mother came looking for me. I grabbed my jeans and a cable-knit fisherman’s sweater, and followed the clatter of cutlery and the invigorating scent of freshly brewed coffee.

In the dining room, the table was full. All holiday revelers were present and accounted for and—

Caleb drew my attention like a lodestone. In thick-framed glasses and a form-fitting black turtleneck, he wore his professor clothing like a dream. He was smart, fresh and confident and I felt more like a frumpy veterinarian than ever. I couldn’t remember if I’d brushed my hair after the shower, and I’d definitely skipped shaving.

I remained unnoticed as my mother and father spoke fervently to Caleb about the family’s yearly ban on The Nutcracker. My brother flirted shamelessly with May. She pretended she wasn’t impressed with my Broadway-bound brother, and he obviously loved the challenge. They were thick as thieves. Keith was here—and somehow I’d nearly forgotten that fact. Unbelievable. Why had he come? I needed to address that this morning, because he had no business being here. He chatted with Uncle Archie, who seemed intent on piling a plate with sausage and eggs.

Caleb cut into a waffle with the side of his fork. He was the only one who saw me towering alone in the doorway. Six feet two and in this colorful family I faded into the wallpaper. I always had. With both my parents perennially in the limelight, the entire world a stage for Ryan, And-This-Is-Owen had practically become my given name. The afterthought. The strong and silent overachiever. The one who waited in the wings and held the bags and checked the lists.

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