Page 42 of Dark Christmas
He smirks, clearly not fooled by my little dodge. “White Christmases are beautiful,” he says, his tone soft. “Especially the ones in Moscow.”
I can feel him studying me, like he knows there’s more I’m not saying. But instead of pushing, he adds, “Maybe you’ll see one for yourself someday.”
I shrug, playing it off. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, I don’t think San Francisco’s getting any snow anytime soon, but a girl can dream.”
He chuckles, squeezing my hand. I can tell he knows I’m deflecting, but he’s smart enough not to push.
We’re approaching the stairs to the apartment above the bakery when Melor suddenly asks, “How’s the book going?”
I blush immediately. I’m not used to talking about my work. “It’s, uh... going good. It’s probably not the sort of thing you’d read.”
He smirks. “Try me.”
I hesitate, then sigh. “It’s about a noblewoman who ends up being held captive in the castle of a mysterious, brooding duke.”
He lets out a deep laugh, the sound rumbling through him. “Let me guess—little bit of real-life inspiration there?”
I bite my lip, trying not to grin. “Maybe,” I say, keeping the fact that some of the more intense scenes were most definitely inspired by him.
Melor’s quiet presence beside me is grounding, but on the inside, I’m torn. He gently takes my hand and turns me toward him, leaning in for a kiss. Like always, his kiss melts away myworries, making me all kinds of hot. It’s like the rest of the world fades for a second, leaving just us.
I grin up at him after the kiss, feeling lighter. “You always know just what to say, and what not to say.”
A voice calls out, “Hey, you two! Get a room!”
I glance up, and there’s Claire, leaning out of her window with a huge grin on her face. The building is covered in lovely Christmas lights, garland wrapped around the balconies, giving everything a warm, festive glow. Claire’s clearly enjoying her own joke because she waves us off with a laugh.
“I’ll be right down!”
Melor grins, squeezing my hand. The door swings open, and there stands Claire, wearing an oversized Christmas sweater stretched tight over her big pregnant belly. She’s glowing, and not just from the holiday lights.
“Look at you two, all cozy,” Claire teases as she steps aside to let us in.
David’s there, looking dapper as always in a button-down shirt and a perfectly fitted sweater. He nods at us, a warm smile on his face.
“Welcome,” he says, holding the door open wider for us to step inside.
Upstairs, the apartment is filled with even more Christmas cheer. A big twinkling tree stands in the corner, decked out with ornaments, tinsel, and a sparkly star on top. Garland hangs from the doorways, and holiday candles are flickering on every available surface.
Just as we get settled, their French bulldog, Pancake, comes waddling over to greet us, his little tail wagging excitedly. I crouch down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears before standing back up.
“Claire, David, this is Melor,” I say, turning to him. “Melor, this is Claire and David.”
Melor shakes David’s hand, offering Claire a warm smile. “Nice to meet you both,” he says smoothly, reaching into the bag he’s carrying. He pulls out a bottle of scotch and hands it to David, who raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.
“Good scotch,” David says, nodding with approval as he inspects the bottle. “Lagavulin 16-year? Really good scotch.”
Melor smirks. “Figured it might be to your taste.”
David chuckles clearly impressed. “You figured right.”
Not to be outdone, I reach into the bag and pull out the sparkling grape juice for Claire, wiggling it in front of her. “And for you, mom-to-be.”
Claire beams. “How thoughtful; thank you.”
David gestures toward the spread as we sit at the dining room table. “Tonight, we’ve got spicy pad Thai, spring rolls, and some coconut sticky rice for dessert.”
Claire grins, rubbing her belly. “Cravings have been wild, so Thai it is.”