Stranded at Christmas: a holiday romantic comedy by Stephanie Bond

Author:Stephanie Bond [Bond, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: a holiday romantic comedy
Publisher: Stephanie Bond, Inc.
Published: 2020-12-05T05:00:00+00:00

***

Anthony winced. He’d hit a nerve with the boyfriend comment, had hurt Rose’s feelings. From inside the bathroom came the sound of the shower kicking on—was she crying? He pulled his hand down his face, wishing he could wipe away the entire day and start over.

A rap sounded on the door frame. When he looked up, Tate stood there holding a stack of folded garments and a pair of shoes. “These belong to Sarah’s husband Justin. He’s a bit smaller than you, but I figure it’s better than nothing. The boots, at least, are about your size.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said, glancing down at his suit. “I didn’t think I’d need a change of clothes.”

Tate handed him the clothing with a smile. “I don’t think anyone could have predicted this day. Good night, Anthony.”

“Good night.”

Anthony sat down on the boy’s bed and groaned—what a day, indeed. He glanced at his suit jacket, then reached over to withdraw a ring box from the inside pocket. He opened the box to stare at the diamond solitaire. He’d planned to propose to Brooke tonight at dinner.

If he were a more spiritual man, he might think the universe had intervened.

At the sound of the shower kicking off in the bathroom, he closed the box with a snap. But it was just lousy weather and bad timing.

A few minutes later, Rose emerged, swathed head to foot in—Anthony bit back a smile—flannel pajamas covered in penguins… wearing Santa hats. But when she raised her aqua-colored eyes, he felt a stirring in his chest. Her hair was still damp and her cheeks were pink. She looked fresh and… surprisingly breathtaking.

“The bathroom’s yours,” she murmured, retreating to the pink side of the room. “I left some toiletries out for you.”

Anthony gave himself a mental shake. “Right… thanks.” He picked through the clothes for something appropriate to sleep in, then escaped into the bathroom. He showered quickly, reluctantly using her fruity shampoo. It suited her, he thought sourly. After he toweled off, he pulled on the borrowed sweatpants and T-shirt. They were a tight squeeze, but it was better than the alternative.

When he emerged, Rose was rearranging items in one of her suitcases. She glanced up, then bit back a smile.

“No comments from the peanut gallery,” he groused, striding back to his assigned bed. He stepped on something hard and cried out in pain. He lifted his foot to see a plastic building block—how many of his siblings’ blocks had he stepped on growing up?

Rose’s laughter filled the room. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing about this day is okay,” he muttered, limping to his bed.

“Maybe things will be better in the morning,” she said happily. “Can I turn out the light?”

“Yeah,” he said, climbing into the small bed and pulling covers over him. “I just want to go to sleep.”

The light went out and he heard the mattress creak as she climbed into her own bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling. “Rose… I’m sorry.”

“About what?” she asked.

“The crack I made about your boyfriend.

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