Page 15 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)

Nina jolted awake.

She grabbed for her phone. It wasn’t on her bedside table. The table wasn’t there either. And the bed she was in wasn’t hers. Neither was the room, the house… She spent the night with Ryan Danvers.

Platonically.

If that was a thing with him.

She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling fan, waiting for her pounding heart to slow, which she doubted was going to happen, considering where she was and who she was with.

The fan turned in a slow reverse pattern, pulling down warm air blown up from the central heat vents.

The soft whir of the blades filled the silence, a constant rhythm that did little to calm her racing thoughts.

The unfamiliar shadows of the room loomed around her, shapes she couldn’t quite make out in the pre-dawn darkness. A faint scent of leather and hay lingered in the air, mixed with something distinctly Ryan. She breathed it in, letting it settle in her lungs.

“Did I wake you?” Ryan’s voice was deep, the words softly spoken, though not quite a whisper. The sound of it in the darkness sent a shiver down her spine.

Nina whispered back, her voice barely audible even to her ears. “No. I’m used to waking up to go to work. I don’t even know what time it is.”

Her phone charged on his bedside table using his charge cord. He rolled to the side to fetch it and hand it to her. Her fingers brushed his in the dark, the brief contact sending a jolt through her that had nothing to do with static electricity.

“Huh. I actually overslept.” It was three thirty. “I’m usually at the bakery by now.” She darkened the screen and slid the phone under her pillow, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. “How’s your knee?”

“It’s okay.” Ryan tucked an arm beneath his head. The rustle of fabric against fabric seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. “Hard to get comfortable. I’m a side sleeper, but it hurt less when I stayed on my back.”

“Me, too. The side sleeping thing. But I’m comfortable.” He waited as if letting that sink in, then said, “You can go back to sleep.”

“I’m afraid my entire schedule would get thrown off if I did.” Nina stifled a yawn, realizing just how true those words were. Her body was used to early mornings and long days, a routine as familiar as breathing.

“Yeah. Same here. I feel like I need to get to work. It’s hard for me to do nothing.”

She rolled to face him, stacking her hands under her cheek and keeping plenty of distance between them, which wasn’t hard to do in the king-size bed.

She’d enjoyed the extra body heat and listening to him breathe, feeling his weight on the mattress, knowing she wasn’t alone.

It was a comfort she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“I know what you mean. I can’t remember the last time I had nothing to do. Or even permitted myself to put what needed doing on hold just to breathe.”

Ryan turned his head toward her and chuckled. “You have to schedule time to breathe?”

“Not literally, though it feels like it at times. I’ve worked in the bakery all my life except when I was at college. It’s all I know.” The words came out more wistful than she’d intended, a hint of something she usually kept buried.

“Do you regret it? Taking over the bakery?”

“That’s a hard question to answer,” she said, not sure if she knew what was the truth and what was the brave front she put on.

The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

“If I’d known then what I know now, I might’ve made a different choice, but I’m not sure if that’s the same as regret. ”

“There’s a lot of pressure involved in taking on a legacy operation,” he said. “I get that for sure. Just like you, I took over the family business.”

She wasn’t sure if he was expecting her to answer, but she nodded. She hadn’t ever really made a conscious decision to be a baker. It seemed coded into her genetics, a path laid out for her before she could even walk.

Her mother married into the Ellis Early Eats family and resented that it took up so much time. In the end, she’d been the one to decide to leave Kringle, even though it was Dad’s health that spurred the move. The memory of that decision, of the arguments and tears that preceded it, still stung.

“What career path would you have taken if your parents hadn’t…” She trailed off. Why was she bringing up that pain again? The words hung unfinished between them, heavy with implication.

For a long time, he said nothing. The silence stretched, filled only by the sound of their breathing and the steady whir of the ceiling fan.

“I wanted to play pro football. A long shot, I know, but that was my dream.”

“What?” She propped up on her elbow and looked over at him. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness. Just felt the shape of him. The revelation caught her off guard, adding a new dimension to the man.

“I got scouted my junior year of college. I’d planned to surprise my folks with the news at Christmas.”

A rush of empathy filled her chest, along with amazement and a strange, excited pride that he’d come so close to playing football professionally. “Why didn’t you take the opportunity after your parents…”

“I had to keep the ranch going. I dropped out of school.”

This new information changed her view of him. It turned the whole of her knowledge into something more decadent, fuller and unexpected. He was so much more than she knew. The weight of his sacrifice settled over her, a tangible thing in the darkness between them.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s not really anything to say. Life is life.” He went silent after that.

“Do you ever think what life would’ve been like if you hadn’t stayed in Kringle?”

“No reason to, really,” he said. “Clinging to pipe dreams only causes pain. Acceptance is a gift.”

“Have you ever traveled?” she asked.

“No. Never been out of Texas.”

“The only other state I’ve been in is Arizona to visit my folks,” Nina said. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to see the world. To experience different cultures, taste exotic foods, see landmarks I’ve only read about in books.”

He turned his head, then rolled on his side to face her and grunted as he adjusted his leg. “You sound like you’ve given this some thought.”

“I have. Don’t get me wrong, I love Kringle, but there’s so much out there. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on something bigger.”

Ryan chuckled softly. “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Where would you go? If you could choose anywhere?” she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

“A place I could travel on horseback,” he said after a moment’s consideration.

She reached over and touched his shoulder. “It’s been ages since I’ve ridden.”

“We could—” He stopped mid-sentence, then finished with a terse, “Never mind.”

She cupped his cheek. “I’d love to go riding with you. Let’s plan to do that once you’re back in the saddle.”

The stubble on his face was a careless sort of scruff, his jaw sharp, chin strong, and neck corded. The ridge of his collarbone defined beneath the fabric of his shirt. She wanted to run her fingertip along it.

He raised up on one elbow and leaned closer. It wasn’t a threatening move or even insistent. It was hesitant, as if he was testing the resistance between them.

“I’d like to kiss you.”

“I’d like for you to kiss me.”

He moved nearer, bracing his weight on his elbows and forearms. He was so close and yet he wasn’t touching her at all. His breath brushed her face, the heat of it warming her.

Even so, she shivered.

“Cold?”

She shook her head and lifted one hand to brush the hair falling over his forehead to the side.

“Nervous?”

She wasn’t that, either. She wanted the touch of his mouth on hers. It was a gorgeous anticipation, the wait.

“Change your mind?”

“I haven’t yet. But I might. If you don’t get on with it.”

He laughed, brushing the backs of his fingers over her upper arm, her shoulder. “I’m not much for rushing things.”

A groan rolled from her belly to her throat, but she caught it before it escaped. The idea of him taking his time left her breathless, weak, and trembling. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin.

His eyes were focused so intently on hers that she wasn’t sure she could move. She wasn’t sure she wanted to move. She wasn’t sure of anything right now.

Not even what she was doing. Or if this was what she wanted.

Even after telling herself it was the very thing.

* * *

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“I need some answers.”

Ryan felt a shift in Nina at the same time he saw it on her face in the glow from the nightlight. Her body beside his stiffened. Her expression darkened, her uneasiness evident, and filled with questions he wasn’t sure he could answer even if she put them into words.

But he’d dang sure try. “What do you want to know?”

“Why I’m here. Not the part where I agreed to stay because you were hurt,” she said, her tone lighter than the look in her eyes. “But why here? Beside you in this bed?” She paused, swallowed, and then whispered, “Why me, Ryan?”

Fair questions, mainly since neither one of them dated much or lived the sort of life that had room for relationships.

Ryan’s heart raced, the steady thrum echoing in his ears. The soft cotton sheets beneath them suddenly felt rough against his skin, his nerves hypersensitive to every sensation. The urge to feel her mouth on his had come out of nowhere.

No. That wasn’t true.

He’d thought about kissing her a bunch of times. Dancing with her in the bakery, catching her when she fell from the ladder at the fellowship hall, frankly, anytime he peered into her milk chocolate brown eyes.

But the conversations they’d shared on those occasions, and the ones they’d had since, gave his desire a depth he wouldn’t be able to keep out of a kiss.

A memory flashed through his mind—Nina laughing as she dusted flour from her hands, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Something shifted then, a realization that she was more than just the woman who made the best cinnamon rolls in Kringle. She was vibrant, full of life, and irresistible.

And he knew in his gut that would change everything.

It still wasn’t easy to face.

“I’ve thought about kissing you since you asked me to dance to George Strait.”

Nina’s breath caught, the sound soft in the quiet room. “I’ve wondered about that. If it was just me who felt something powerful that day.”

And here he’d thought he’d been wearing a neon sign. “Well, now you know. So because of that, I almost ran out of the church when I saw you were there to help with the pageant setup.”

She reached for the sheet and pulled it up to her chin, the rustle of fabric loud in the stillness. “Why would you do that?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon that always clung to Nina filling his senses. “I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“Mess what up?”

“Dumb, huh? Hard to mess up what’s not there.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she rolled up to sit cross-legged, holding his pillow in her lap as if needing a barrier between them. The moonlight filtering through the blinds cast shadows across her face, highlighting the uncertainty in her eyes.

“Is that what you think? That there’s nothing between us? That we’re both imagining this?”

She was brave to ask the question. Ryan felt a surge of admiration for her courage, even as fear gnawed at his insides. Opening up, letting someone in. It went against every instinct he’d developed since losing his parents. But Nina… she made him want to try.

He didn’t think he could say it. “Then? Maybe not. But now?” He shook his head, holding her gaze. Moonlight found its way into the room around the edges of the blinds and lit up her hair. “We’re not imagining it. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know what to do about it.” The admission felt like ripping off a bandage, exposing a wound he’d long tried to ignore.

She let out a laugh, which wasn’t what he’d expected at all. The sound cut through the tension, warm and genuine. “Spoken like a man who’s never been in a long-term relationship before.”

“I haven’t been.” It was an easy admission. “The ranch, the responsibilities… they’ve always come first.”

“Neither have I.” Nina’s voice softened, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. “The bakery’s been my whole world for so long.”

He let that settle, feeling a grin tug at his mouth. “We’re a pair, huh?”

“I really hate feeling this old when I’m so young. My whole life is supposed to be ahead of me. And by life, I don’t mean making blueberry cinnamon rolls.”

“You make delicious ones,” he said, which had her rolling her eyes before she fell to the side, laughing. He loved her laugh. He loved her openness, her honesty. He wondered if love at first sight was really a thing because he was starting to think it might be.

The thought both thrilled and terrified him. What would the folks in Kringle say if the reclusive rancher and the dedicated baker suddenly became an item? Would it change how they fit into the community? And, more importantly, was he ready to open himself up to the possibility of loss again?

“You know,” Nina said, interrupting his thoughts, “for two people who run businesses, we’re pretty terrible at taking risks in our personal lives.”

Ryan chuckled, the tension easing a bit. “Maybe we should treat this like a business decision. Weigh the pros and cons?”

Nina quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll bite. Pro: we clearly enjoy each other’s company.”

“Con: we’re both workaholics with no idea how to balance a relationship and our careers.”

“Pro: we already know each other’s quirks and still like each other.”

“Con: the entire town will be in our business before we even figure out what this is.”

They laughed, the sound mingling in the quiet room. As their laughter faded, a comfortable silence settled between them.

Ryan found himself studying Nina’s face, memorizing the curve of her cheek and the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light.

“You know what, Ryan?” Nina said. “I think the biggest pro is that we’re here, having this conversation. We’re both scared, but we’re not running away.”

Ryan nodded, feeling something warm unfurl in his chest. “You’re right. And maybe that’s enough for now. We don’t have to have it all figured out.”