Page 52 of Christmas Wish
“I’m the second oldest of five—two brothers and two sisters, and only one grandkid for my parents—Timmy.” Savannah looked down and played with the fringe on her scarf. “That’s why I feel bad about taking Timmy away right before Christmas. It’s so selfish, but … I had to get away.”
“Did you tell your mom that?”
“I did, but she doesn’t really understand.” She shook her head when his features hardened. “But I don’t blame her—I didn’t tell her the whole story.” She leaned over and kissed him on the side of his mouth. “I appreciate you helping to make this Christmas nice for Timmy. I know he misses his grandparents,” she said softly in his ear.
“Both sets of grandparents?”
“No”—she pulled away and reclined back in the seat—“just my parents.”
Ryder hit the button and the garage door opened, and he pulled the vehicle inside.
“I’ll carry Timmy to his room,” Ryder said, opening the jeep’s back door.
Savannah followed after him and pulled back the covers when they entered Timmy’s room. She slowly took off her son’s boots, mittens, hat, and jacket. Ryder squeezed her shoulder and retreated from the room, grumbling something about taking Brutus out for a walk.
After Timmy was snuggled in bed, his arm wrapped around Furry, Savannah switched off the light and walked into her room to change and wash up. By the time she sat down on the couch, Ryder had just come in from walking the dog; his cheeks were red and he rubbed his hands together as if warming them up.
“Do you want me to pour you a shot of whiskey to warm you up?” she asked. Her breath caught as his gaze slowly roamed over her then lingered on her mouth, making her burn.
“I got some other ideas about how to warm up, but a shot of whiskey’s a good start.”
Tingles skated over her skin, and she looked away from him. “Did you want me to start the fire?”
“I’ll do it after I get out of these wet clothes.” His footsteps faded down the hallway.
Savannah rose to her feet and padded into the kitchen to retrieve two glasses. She’d bought the premium black label of Jack Daniels for Ryder and a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream for herself when she was in town the day before. She took down two tumblers and poured a hefty portion of whiskey in his and Bailey’s in hers, then made her way back into the family room. Savannah took a sip of her drink hoping it would calm down her nerves. Ryder made her nervous and aroused more than she liked, and it didn’t help one damn bit that he oozed masculinity from his every pore. The way he wore his tight-fitting flannel shirts gave her an idea of how wonderfully chiseled he was. She’d seen hints of ink rising up from underneath his shirt collars, and the ink on his arms intrigued and excited her. Savannah could never imagine Bret or any Carlton sporting a tattoo, and even though Bret once told her the vine of purple clematis flowers tatted right above her pubic bone was sexy, she knew deep down he thought it was trashy.
What worried her the most was that she was incredibly attracted to Ryder, not just physically, but intellectually and emotionally as well. It was like they complemented each other in some broken, twisted, and dangerous way.
The sound of a match striking snapped her eyes upward and in the direction of Ryder, who was by the fireplace throwing matches at the logs and bunched-up newspapers.
“I didn’t even hear you come in,” she said.
Without answering, Ryder looked over his shoulder and caught her in a heated gaze before turning his attention back to stoking the fire. A tremor vibrated along her body.
“Where’s Brutus?” she asked.
“With Timmy.” He chuckled.
Savannah watched him as he bent over and tossed another log into the fireplace, making his shoulder muscles ripple under the long-sleeved black T-shirt.So damn sexy.Ryder straightened up, placed the poker back in the iron stand and closed the mesh fire curtain, then he strode over to the couch.
“Does your leg hurt?” Savannah asked when she saw him grimace as he settled on the cushion.
“It’s no big deal.”
“If it’s more comfortable, you can take it off.” She held her breath, knowing this was a touchy topic with him.
Ryder paused for a few seconds, then he reached over and picked up his drink. “I’m good.” The way he said it told her that it was the end of the conversation.
Savannah stretched out her legs, and he pinched her toes playfully. “You like fluffy things, don’t you?” he asked tugging at her candy cane striped fuzzy socks.
“They make me feel warm and cozy.”
“They’re cute like you.”
“Oh please … I’m too old to be cute.”
Ryder tilted his head back. “How old are you?”
