Page 68 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

Macy paced the length of Caleb’s workroom, flipping the telegram from one hand to the other like it would singe her skin if she held it for more than a second.

She licked her lips and halted in the center of the room. Unfolded the sheet, bent back the corner over the wordaccepted. Took a deep breath that delivered his intoxicating scent and a dozen sensual recollections.Practice, Mouse.Don’t think about his wondrous hands. His talented lips. How thoughtful he is. How generous. How the ground drops away the moment you see him. Not right now.“Caleb. Cale. I received a…I mean to say, with regard to the residency program, I would like to propose—” She swore beneath her breath and continued her march to the wall and back. Notpropose. Men got nervous when a woman used that word. And she wasn’t expecting marriage, although most women would at this point.

The details were immaterial. Love wasn’t.

I don’t want the position in Philadelphia.

I want more. Longer. Forever.

Here. With you.

“I will even help decorate your house, which currently looks like your eight-year-old nephew did the job.”Because I, Elinor Macy Dallas, love you, Caleb Eli Garrett.Laughing, she spun in a wild circle until she got so dizzy, she had to catch her balance on the hull of his unfinished skiff. The wood was smooth beneath her fingers. Slick, cool. Molten brown in the muted light thrown from the sconce.

Oh, how she appreciated his talent.

It wasn’t only boats he was good with, she thought with a wicked smile. If he touched her with so much as his pinky, ownership of her body shifted like a draft deposited in his bank, no longer hers in any way.

Now, it was time to shift ownership of her heart.

She sighed and thrust the telegram in her pocket.How to tell him?

But when he arrived, bringing a wintry chill with him, it was obvious someone already had.

She smoothed her hand over wood still serrated in places and tried to suppress a memory that would only complicate the discussion. Two nights ago, holding on to this very section of the boat with Caleb standing behind her, thrusting in the most leisurely motion he was able to maintain, or so he’d whispered against her shoulder, deliberateness she’d begged for release from. It had been the most erotic night of her life. Beyond anything she’d ever dreamed she would share with a man. Beyond who she thought she could be. “Let me guess. Someone read my telegram.” She gave the hull a soft tap when she felt like racing to him. Unexpectedly, and for one of the first times, he looked unapproachable. “Small town charms.”

He closed the door and leaned against it. Crossed his ankles and his arms, closing himself off. Slipping away like fog over the inlet. “You want to hear something I now find pretty damn amusing?” He ran his hand over the stubble dotting his jaw. The man shaved in the morning and by noon, needed to shave again. She particularly loved the feel of his whiskers abrading her thighs.

“What?” she asked, though she was relatively sure she didn’t want to know.

“When we started this, I figured if I touched you, it’d release the pressure building since you kissed me in that cloakroom. Erase the need like words from one of Elle’s blackboards. One swipe and poof”—he snapped his fingers—“gone.”

She thrust her hand in her pocket and crushed the telegram. “The residency. I’m not taking it.”

He shoved off the door and crossed the room until the boat was all that was standing between them. “Oh, yes, you are,” he growled and slapped his hand atop it.

Her heart shattered as she gazed in his eyes. They’d gone the color of smoke, which meant thoughts, and stubbornness, were running deep. “You’d deny what you feel? You’d send me away like this?”

“I’m not denying anything. That’s why you’re going to accept.”

“I don’twantthe position, Cale.I want you.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. He closed his eyes and drew the hand lying atop the boat into a fist. “I’m all wrong for you. And I hate to tell you, but you’re all wrong forme. I’m a simple boatbuilder. I get irritated easily. I’m not tolerant. I’m not anything you need. I won’t be good for you. Smart enough for you.” He banged his hand on the hull. “And I don’t know how to be.”

“You’re everything—”

He snarled and stepped in, rocking the skiff into her. “My mother believed my father was everything, Doc. And it wasnevertrue. I’m not repeating the past. Not when I’ve worked my whole life to avoid it. And I’m not holding you back from a future you’re supposed to have. Oneyou’veworked for. Or have you forgotten?”

“All I remember is being utterly alone in the world before you. Alone, Cale,no one. You have family, so you can’t begin to understand.” She tried to snag his sleeve as he brushed past her. “You’ll not only allow your father to ruin your childhood but this…” Her words slipped away as she gestured wildly to the two of them.

He paused by a stack of shipping crates serving as an informal sideboard, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a chipped glass. “I choose to think of it as taking the only education the bastard gave me and putting it to good use.” He poured generously. “Why the anger? We agreed, this was temporary. It had to end sometime. You don’t belong here. Your future is bigger than Pilot Isle.”

“Those wereyourrules. My agreement was misinterpreted.”

He downed a swallow of whiskey, glanced at her over his shoulder. The iciness of his gaze leached into her bones. Steadfast, a slight tremor in his hand was his only tell. “Fine, they’re my rules.”

She walked forward, tobacco and the spicy tang that was Caleb’s alone soaking her senses as blood would gauze. She caught her breath as awareness wrapped them like a gift. As she flushed, head to toe, perspiration dewing her skin. She wasn’t going to let him do this. He was kind, complicated, loyal. A gifted artist. A man who loved with great intensity but was unable to accept love in return. She wanted him for all those things.

Loved him for all of them.