I pondered the but now.
Now, I couldn’t get a pair of dark eyes out of my head. Again. The same ones I fought so hard to forget the first time around. Opinionated, sharp words that flowed from a mouth I had devoured just yesterday. I hadn’t been able to stop myself once I’d started. Her taste drove me mad, and her hands on me—God, they were intoxicating.
And not just because she had felt divine under my touch, all responsive and reactive and warm. Not just because my dick knew exactly where it wanted to be as it nestled against her hot core. But because being in her radius yanked me back in time to the twenty-two-year-old I’d been, hanging on her every word and wanting to listen for hours. Falling hard for the one person I had no business even thinking about.
I didn’t have the luxury of being that guy again. I was a father, and a rancher. I didn’t have time for that. But, God, the way Josie looked at me—nothing woke up the man in me more than one glance from her. And nothing made me crazier than any of the random conversations we’d had in the last few days.
In short, she’d awakened the beast I’d buried. The damning, burning need for the love I’d found, lost, and would never have again. I’d come to terms with that, and made peace with it. I was good, wasn’t I? Content. Then she’d shown up out of nowhere, and I had to go and cross that line as if no time had passed. I’d tasted heaven again, and damn if I could untaste it now.
What did I want for Christmas? Josie Bancroft. In every way.
So, what did I do? The one thing that would royally piss her off and ensure that she’d never want me back. Help her.
“Daddy?” Abigail’s voice brought me back from my torturous ride through hell.
I sighed. “I’m sorry, baby, what did you say?”
“What did you ask Santa for?” she asked.
I twisted one of her blond ringlets around my finger and tugged, making her giggle.
“It’s a secret,” I whispered conspiratorially. “I sent him a secret wish, and I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to see if he grants it.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” she breathed.
“Well, those are rare,” I said, gazing toward the beautiful tree that she and I had decorated together, all the ornaments clustered at her level. “So all I can do is send the wish, and not be disappointed if it doesn’t happen.”
I was babbling my way down an impossible hole. What the hell was wrong with me? Secret wishes? Now my daughter would grab onto that idea next year and not tell me what she wanted, thinking this secret thing was something special. Good job, Dad.
“Do those come wrapped in sparkly white packages that glow?” she asked.
I nodded. “Sure.”
The deep sound of the heavy metal knocker landing against the hard oak of my front door rescued me from spiraling further into lunacy, and Theodore was there before I could get all the way to my feet.
I knew who it was.
It was just a matter of time.
“Miss Josie!” Abigail exclaimed, stopping Josie in her tracks as she rounded into the living room ahead of Theodore. “Did you know that today is Christmas Eve?”
I bit back a smirk. Any other time, Josie’s expression at being waylaid by a four-year-old would have doubled me over with laughter, but I had to restrain. She looked just this side of enraged.
Everything she had on her lips, ready to throw at me, she swallowed back at the sight of Abigail, grinning hugely up at her.
“I—do,” she said stiffly, gripping her coat tighter around her when Theodore caught up and offered to take it. “Hello, Abigail.”
“Merry Christmas Eve!” Abigail sang, bouncing on her toes.
I should have stopped her, but her antics were both entertaining and diverting, and just laying eyes on Josie left me with the need for the extra few seconds. Even angry and windblown, Josie was breathtaking. Hell, yesterday she’d been a drowned rat, and I’d damn near taken her against a tree. I was doomed.
“Happy birthday, Josie,” I said, resting my hands in the pockets of my trousers, as if I wasn’t wound tighter than a drum.
Abigail sucked in a melodramatic breath.
“It’s your birthday?” she breathed. “Happy birthday, too!”
Josie smiled gratefully, but I noticed that it didn’t reach her eyes, nor did it slow the shallow rises and falls of her chest.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” she said. “Can