Page 15 of Christmas Wish
Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I know he’s in pain.“I’m sorry,” she whispered then started to get up.
“It’s fine.”
She relaxed and sank further into the cushion. “Was it a motorcycle accident? I noticed your killer bike in the garage. My dad’s a Harley man.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He kept staring at the curling flames.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She held her breath.
“No.”
“Okay.”
The fire crackled, tree branches scratched against the window with each gust of wind, and a long silence stretched between them. Savannah furtively glanced over at Ryder and noticed that his face was grave … pensive. The urge to thread her fingers through his thick dark hair then cradle his head against her chest started to overwhelm her, and she struggled to breathe normally.Would he cringe at my touch? What if—
He turned to look at her, and she felt the need to break the silence.
“Do you have any ground meat?”
He tipped his head, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. How she longed to sweep it away and press her palm against the rough stubble of his cheek. His intoxicating scent wisped around in the air, reminding her of the exotic spices she’d bought in the marketplace in Marrakech several years before.
“Do you like meatloaf?” Savannah stood up; she had to get out of there before she did something which would embarrass them both.
Another tip of his head.
“I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.” She spun around and scampered into the kitchen.
Ryder had a fully stocked pantry, refrigerator, and freezer, and it impressed the hell out of her. From the boxes of pasta from Italy to the flavored olive oils, she concluded that he must love to cook.Or maybe he has a girlfriend who does.The thought that Ryder might have a girlfriend shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did. Her heart tripped then stumbled a little. Which meant … what?What’s going on with me?She stared out the window at the blowing snow and wondered when the storm would end so she and Timmy could leave. For the sake of her pride, she hoped it’d be soon.
“It smells good, Mommy.”
Savannah turned around and saw her son walking toward her, rubbing his eyes. She wet her hands and patted down the cowlick that always cropped up whenever he slept.
“Did you have a good nap?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you want a banana? Dinner won’t be ready for a while. I’m making your favorite—mashed potatoes.” A goofy grin spread over his face and she laughed and embraced him. “I love you so much,” she whispered as she bent down and kissed the top of his head.
“Me too. Where’s my banana?”
Laughing, she unpeeled a small one and cut it in half. She lent a hand while Timmy tried to climb up on the stool.
“Ryder’s making the best train,” Timmy said while chewing.
“Don’t eat with your mouth open, sweetie. A train …?”
“Yeah. He’s got this room where he makes stuff. He’s got a whole town too. Do you wanna come see?”
“Okay, but after you’re done eating—and don’t rush.”
Before she could finish cutting up the carrots, Timmy scrambled down from the stool and tugged the hem of her sweater top.
“I’m done,” he said.
She shook her head as she placed the carrots in water then let Timmy lead the way. He took her to a room on the opposite end of the hall from both of theirs. When they approached the opened door, Timmy slowed down and glanced up at her, pointing at the room.
“He’s in there,” he whispered, his brown eyes wide.
