A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,76
before letting sleep claim her.
She ended up waking before he did. It wasn’t even dawn yet. In fact, she had no idea what time it was, but the hint of light that filtered in through the slatted wooden blinds was still moonlight. She sat up, pulling the soft sheets and thick comforters around her when the chill of the air away from Sean’s big, warm body pebbled her skin. Sean. She shifted so she could look at him. So big, warm, wonderful…sweet, amazing…and hers. The pure affection that coursed through her wasn’t something she could deny, even if she couldn’t rationally explain the depth or power of it. Sex, lust…maybe. But it didn’t feel that way to her. Not solely, anyway. He’d touched her in far deeper, more intimate ways than anyone ever had, and most of those moments hadn’t taken place in this bed, but sitting in the cab of his truck, standing by the counter of her shop, or lounging by the fire in his living room.
A smile stole across her face as she continued to watch him sleep. She had no idea how much time passed, but the urge to grab a pencil and paper, to sketch, to draw, to paint, sitting right there, in the bed, was almost overwhelming. It made her fingers twitch, the urge was so strong. She must have made some sound, because he reached out, eyes still closed, and found her and pulled her to him.
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Come here.”
She moved into his arms like they had danced this particular dance many, many times. For the difference in their sizes, they’d found a comfort with each other’s bodies remarkably swiftly, and their rhythm was just as easy and natural this time as it had been before. And that’s where her thoughts ended, as Sean started making love to her again.
When she woke again…he was gone. She sat up, certain the grin on her face was quite smug and satisfied. And she was okay with that. She gathered her clothes and dressed, then sat back down on the edge of the bed again, and thought about the night they’d just spent together. And asked herself if going back to London was what she really wanted. Or just what was easiest. Safest. And if she didn’t go back to London…then what?
She found a note from Sean and keys to his other vehicle, which was his parents’ old car, on the kitchen counter. It all felt so…natural, so easy. Could it be so easy? Well, the relationship with Sean part seemed like it would be…but what in the hell was she supposed to do with the rest of her life if she moved back here?
Her thoughts weren’t any clearer by the time she got back to the shop, and while the meeting later that morning with the estate lawyer did answer a great many of her questions about handling the shop lease, she felt like her head might explode with all the things she still had on her mind. That was when she found the diary and remembered the bombshell discovery of the day before.
And, without thinking too long or hard about it, she grabbed Sean’s keys, grabbed the diary, and took off toward St. Francis. She realized it for the procrastination maneuver it was, but who knew? Maybe getting a few answers about someone else’s life would put her own into better perspective.
12
It was funny how quickly Sean had come to think about Holly in the course of his everyday life. She hadn’t even been back a week, but it already felt like she’d always been in the back of his mind, even as the organized pandemonium that was his life swirled around him, both jarring and comforting. Sometimes, the greater the uproar or hubbub, the more he thought about her…and it surprised him how much easier just thinking about her smile, or the way she arched into him when he kissed that spot just above her collarbone, made the insanity of the world that was running a restaurant that much easier to sort through and maintain.
Just as he caught himself in yet another highly detailed daydream, and thought about trying her cell again, there was a tap at his office door. Without waiting, Mick stuck his head in.
Sean looked up. “You know, it’s customary, after the knock, to wait for—”
“Pretty lady to see you, boy-o. I thought you might want to cut down on the formalities.”