Page 15 of Christmas in Quincy (The Edens 0.50)

His stomach growled, but he didn’t make a move to leave. The man would probably starve himself rather than give up and leave this room and concede me a victory. The stubborn mule.

There went the growl again. It echoed in the room like a hungry lion trapped in the cage that was his flat stomach.

Damn it. Couldn’t he shut that animal up? It growled again and my nerves began to falter. My inner nurturer was starting to break out in hives as the growling continued. The overwhelming urge to feed people, to bring them joy through sugar, carbohydrates and fat, was engrained deep in my soul.

Damn it, again.

“Would you like to share? I won’t eat all of this myself,” I muttered. Or he could call and order his own cheeseburger. Maybe I should have just tossed the binder in his face.

“I’m good to share.” Austin’s dark eyes met mine and he gave me a small smile. There were no teeth showing but it was a smile, nonetheless. “Thanks.”

My crush flared like a skin rash immune to hydrocortisone cream.

Hopeless. I was hopeless.

I turned my attention to the meal, dividing it between the plate and basket. “Would you like some champagne?” Not that there was much left.

“No.” He took the plate I offered and returned to his side of the bed, propping himself up against some pillows.

“Water?” I walked to the minifridge and took out a bottle for myself.

“Please.”

I retrieved another, then sat on the bed, mirroring his posture, and popped a fry into my mouth.

He did the same.

Next I went for the burger.

Austin kept eating fries.

Five bites in—there was nothing else to do but count—I wanted to hide in the bathtub to eat. Awkward wasn’t a strong enough word for this.

We didn’t look at one another. We didn’t speak. But it was impossible to ignore, especially in my getting-drunker-by-the-second state, every one of Austin’s movements. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and his broad shoulders took up half the bed, putting us much, much too close. His legs were so long that even dangling off the edge, I knew he’d have to sleep at a slight diagonal to fit.

There would be touching.

Oh, sweet Jesus, we were going to touch. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating. If my crush were a small rash, it would probably be a full-body breakout by morning.

What was he going to wear? Would he strip down to boxers? A shirtless Austin would be one hell of a Christmas present, but knowing Austin, he’d sleep on the floor, fully clothed with a scowl aimed my way all night long.

“It’s snowing.” Austin shot a glare at the window.

Outside, illuminated by the streetlamps, fat clumps of snow floated through the air like icy feathers. “Isn’t it pretty?”

He turned to me, his face screwed up in horror like I’d just told him Santa Claus wasn’t real.

I waved him off and lifted my basket. “More fries?”

“No.” Austin shook his head and returned his gaze to the window. “Why couldn’t you have run away in the summer?”

“Excuse me?” My spine stiffened. “I’m not a child. I didn’t run away. I went on a vacation.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?” I swung my legs off the bed and took my basket to the cart, setting it down with too much force.

“You know.”