The Eggnog Chronicles by Carly Alexander

Author:Carly Alexander [Alexander, Carly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 0758206437
Google: yLNP5PgfS1gC
Amazon: B005Q61FGG
Goodreads: 412955
Publisher: Strapless
Published: 2004-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

18

The worst thing about resolutions is that when you can’t follow one through, you feel like a failure. That night when I got home, the cottage was dark. I kept calling Nate’s cell but he didn’t pick up until the soup was hot, the salad dressed.

“I’m home early!” I told him. “I’ve got dinner ready.”

“You’re kidding? I’m on my way to Avon.” A good hour south of us. “I just assumed you’d be working late, so I decided to drive down to this site.”

So my big evening fizzled into a big “Oh, well.”

By the time Nate came in, I was asleep on the couch. I remember Dave Letterman saying: “I don’t know what that means,” and the audience roaring as I clicked the remote and stumbled through the living room. The bathroom floor was ice-cold, but I forced myself to brush my teeth and rinse my face, knowing the activity would be enough to wake me up just enough to ruin my sleep. I hate when that happens, but I was too tired to stay up, and Nate was already in bed, possibly asleep if the sound of his steady breathing was any gauge.

“You awake?” I asked softly.

“Mmm.”

I turned off the light and slipped under the red plaid quilt. My side of the bed was cold, and I eased closer to Nate and nudged my chilly feet into the warm aura surrounding his body. It was a ritual of ours in winter, one of those patterns couples fall into when they’ve been together a while: I always prodded him with cold toes and he always withdrew, grousing, “Get those icy feet away from me, you witch.”

Not wanting to wake him, I moved tentatively, trying to steal warmth.

To my surprise, he reached down and pulled my feet to him. “Come here, you.” He tucked my feet between his thighs, folding them into furry warmth. Sweet heaven.

I sighed, loving the feeling, charmed by the implications.

It was more than a gesture, more than a small exception. I knew it was a sign that something had changed. He was opening himself to me, accepting me wholly—cold feet and all. Nate wanted to be my protector, my champion against the cold.

A sign? I could only hope that my wish was beginning to take hold.

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