Quick Trick (Rough Riders Hockey Book 1)
Quick Trick: Chapter 17

Grant was fucking miserable.

Everything about this gig had been as tedious as he’d expected—the flights to get here, the traffic from the airport, the wardrobe fitting for a tux, Bridgette’s pawing at the cocktail party beforehand, and now, he and his teammates were standing in a brutally cold DC wind that created a thirty-four-degrees-feels-like-seven-degrees situation just to watch some lights turn on.

The only light in this dark cloud had been the performance by Giselle Diamond. Despite the cold and the wind, she’d put on an outstanding show. Her voice silenced the massive audience until the end of a song when the applause and cheering rose to ear-splitting levels. That had been the only part of tonight he was sorry Faith had missed.

Faith.

He took a covert glance at his phone to check for texts, emails, or voice messages. Still nothing. That knot of fear digging into his ribs tightened a little more.

“Would it be…how you say…vulgar, to ask how the fuck we got here?” Andre Kristoff asked in his thick Russian accent.

“It’s called rude,” Beckett Croft, one of the team’s best defensemen answered. “And sometimes, you just gotta say what you gotta say. What I want to know is how the fuck do we get out?”

“Better question,” Tate Donovan said under his breath, “is how to shut you guys up so we don’t get kicked out.”

“Whose idea was it to bring the fuckin’ Boy Scout along?” Rafe Savage cut a look at his best friend since childhood and his current teammate on the Rough Riders. “I’ve got my eye on a couple of sweet pieces of ass from the cocktail party, and I’m taking at least one of them home tonight. So if you plan on acting as the goddamned hall monitor, stay the fuck away from me.”

“I’m going to repeat that to you the next time you call me from jail looking for someone to bail out your skanky ass,” Tate shot back, using a high-pitched girlie voice to repeat, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Normally, Grant found Rafe’s and Tate’s bitching entertaining. Tonight, he found nothing entertaining. Absolutely nothing. He’d only been away from Faith for about thirty hours and all he could focus on was the hollow ache in his gut.

Rafe pulled his jacket tighter against the bitter DC wind. “Bet he wouldn’t talk so damn long if he were out here instead of up there, shielded and warm. Fucker.”

“Say that a little louder,” Beckett told him. “Maybe to that Secret Service agent or bodyguard or whoever the hell that is on your right.”

“It’s a free fucking country.” He met the steely gaze of the noted agent or guard. “Isn’t that right? Sir.”

The man didn’t respond but took in every last detail of their group before scanning the crowd again.

“Would you guys shut up?” Hendrix said from behind them, his arms crossed, jacket pulled up around his ears. He stood between Andrade and Lawless, all three of them using Grant, Beckett, Rafe, and Tate as wind blocks. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Jesus Christ.” Grant bounced from foot to foot, trying to stay warm. “Don’t stand still, boys, or your ass cheeks’ll freeze together.”

“That ain’t all that’ll freeze together,” Lawless offered.

A murmur of movement rippled close to them. Someone nudged their way to the front of the crowd. Grant glanced that direction just as Bridgette stepped up beside him. She wore a winter-white wool trench over the barely there midnight-blue dress she’d had on at the pre-party, and slipped her arm through Grant’s, snuggling up beside him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. She hadn’t been invited to the lighting, only the parties before and after as Grant’s arm candy. “How’d you get in?”

“I used to date the security guy.” She beamed up at him with pearly whites that made her coat look positively dingy. Her bright blue eyes danced with clandestine thrill.

In the two hours since he’d picked her up at her apartment, Bridgette had tried three times to convince him to spend the night with her. Yet all Grant could think about was Faith. Faith and what she was doing with her Christmas Eve day without the ice-sculpting contest on her agenda. Faith and all the texts she hadn’t returned. Faith and his calls she hadn’t taken.

He knew how to read the message she was sending loud and clear. He just wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it. And now that he was back in the middle of this hot mess he called a life, everything he’d found cute or quirky about Faith to begin with were the very things he loved about her now. Missed about her now.

And he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

Thankfully, the ceremony ended within ten minutes. Grant grabbed a private limo ride to the reception with Bridgette and spent the ten-minute drive repeating what he’d already told her earlier in the evening. But this time, he wasn’t as nice about it. Bridgette pushed from the limo livid and strode past Donovan and Savage, who were waiting for him at the curb.

When Grant stood from the car to tip the driver, Rafe said, “What the hell did you do to ruin that sure thing?”

“Go replace your coeds.” Grant pushed his billfold back into his pants pocket and wandered their direction. He was already exhausted and it was only eight o’clock. “I’ll keep the hall monitor in check.”

Rafe pounded Grant’s fist. “I owe you.”

“Grow up,” Tate yelled at Rafe’s back, which he ignored.

Grant and Tate joined the reception, neither interested in being there. They spent half an hour talking about Grant’s shoulder, the team, and the games Grant missed while he was in Holly. Which only reminded him of that ache in the pit of his stomach and made him glance at his phone again.

Still nothing. And God help him, all he could think about was her walking away, with her “Safe travels, Grant Saber” ringing in his head.

Tonight, the words felt more like a permanent good-bye than a see you later.

“Who is she?” Tate’s question pulled Grant’s gaze from his drink. Tate had his shoulder against a pillar, his eyes on Grant.

“Who is who?”

“The chick? The one who’s not texting you back. The one who’s making you wish you were somewhere else?”

“What makes you think it’s a chick? Maybe I’m just sick and tired of this monkey-suit-smile-for-the-camera shit. Maybe I’m thinking about negotiating my next contract differently next time around.”

“Because otherwise you’d have done Bridgette in the bathroom at the pre-party already and be looking for another empty closet somewhere in here. Or, if you’d already tired of Bridgette after one ride, you’d be prowling with Savage.” Tate smiled, but it wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t smug. It was sad. “And, because I’ve been there. Not all that long ago. I recognize the signs.”

Ah shit. Grant had forgotten about Tate’s divorce. “Hey, man, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. It sucks. And I’m here to tell you, if you love her, it doesn’t get any better.”

Grant downed half his drink, wincing at the burn. “Just what I needed to hear tonight.”

Did he love her? Grant had never been in love. He knew he was crazy about her. Certainly didn’t want to think about the coming weeks and months without talking to her, seeing her, touching her.

But love?

“God, I’m tired.” He rubbed his eyes. “I just want to go home.”

No. Not home. He wanted to go to Faith.

He wanted to go home to Faith.

Home and Faith.

Yes.

They fit.

But, still… Was that love? And did it matter?

“If you’re this tied up over her, why didn’t you bring her with you?” Tate asked. “I mean, I don’t blame you. That dumbass right there”—he lifted his beer toward Rafe where he was chatting up two beautiful women—“is enough reason.”

Grant glanced at Rafe, then back at Tate, confused. “What?”

“The chick you’re twisted over. Why didn’t you just bring her with you? You could have made it a mini Christmas vacation.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but every excuse he pulled up fell flat—she didn’t have any family to stay in Holly for. She’d given up on judging the contest. The hardware store was closed Christmas Day.

Why didn’t I just bring her?

A sick feeling spread across the floor of his stomach. To push it away, Grant blew Tate off. “What kind of question is that? Who’d want to come to one of these things? They’re boring as shit. I don’t even want to come.”

“You’re not serious. Dude, this is an exclusive event with the fucking president of the United States, not to mention a blockbuster country music mogul. I know the whole celebrity thing doesn’t do anything for you, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t do anything for her.”

He thought of Faith’s reaction to the news of his obligation. “That’s an opportunity most people will go their whole lives without ever experiencing.”

That icky feeling in his gut rose through his chest.

“Chicks dig this shit.” Tate gestured around the room, where everyone was talking and laughing with others. “Everyone digs this shit. Well, except losers like us.”

Grant was a loser, all right.

A major loser.

In fact, he was pretty sure he’d lost the best thing he’d ever found.

He replayed his last fifteen minutes with Faith over in his head again and again. “Safe travels, Grant Saber.”

“Grant?”

A woman’s smooth voice tugged him into the present, and he looked into the eyes of a woman he’d hooked up with a few months back. Kim? Kelly? Kris? Kira? Something with a K. She was so his type—so urban, so sleek, so perfect, so superficial. And he didn’t even remember anything about their time in bed, just that he’d slept with her. He knew without any doubt he’d remember every minute with Faith.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh yeah,” Tate said with a lift of the brows as he brought his drink to his mouth. “I forgot who I was talking to. That’s a good reason not to bring her.”

Everything inside him pushed back. No. He didn’t want to go back to that life. He’d touched something real, and nothing else would ever measure up.

He turned and shoved his drink into Tate’s hand. “All yours. I’m done.”

“What? Grant—” He pushed both drinks into one hand and grabbed Grant’s arm. “You can’t just walk out. The big wigs aren’t even here yet.”

“Then they’re going to miss out, aren’t they? I’ve met my obligations, and they weren’t one of them.” Grant jerked from Tate’s grasp and threaded his way through the crowded room toward the exit and the limos waiting beyond.

Faith pulled the last package of drill bits from the last box of inventory that had once filled the shelves of her basement, and hung it on the designated hook. Releasing a sigh, she rested her hands on the top of the step stool, surveying the shelves around her for organizing opportunities. But she already knew there were none to be found—she’d organized every shelf in the store, top to bottom, end to end over the last thirty hours since she’d said good-bye to Grant.

She’d only taken a break to watch the tree-lighting ceremony—and boy had that been a mistake. Her mind replayed the sight Faith was sure she’d never forget, of Bridgette Ferreira cutting through the crowd and sliding right into place at Grant’s side, smiling up at him like an adoring Barbie doll.

Her stomach dropped to her feet again with the force of a ninety-degree roller-coaster plunge. Faith’s core muscles tightened to protect her against the inevitable pain. “He certainly didn’t waste any time picking up where he left off.”

God, she was so gullible.

So many emotions roiled inside her, they made her dizzy. She had to replace something to keep her mind occupied, or she was sure she’d drive herself insane.

Faith climbed down the short ladder and snapped it closed. The metal clap echoed through the empty store. Not a soul had come through the front door in hours. Everyone in town and about a thousand other visitors were all at the festival.

And just like that, the ice-carving contest, her dad, and Natalie joined Grant in her uncomfortable thoughts. She wondered if Charlie Dumphies had won for the fourth year in a row. Wondered if anyone had missed her. And whether or not Natalie had gotten the validation she’d been looking for out of her role in the event.

Faith might never get the answers to those questions, but she had learned one important thing—she didn’t need the festival the way she’d thought. She’d also learned she now didn’t have anything to do to keep everyone out of her head. She hung the ladder on a hook in the back, closed her eyes, and exhaled. “It can only get better, right?”

Even if that were true, it didn’t help her now. Now she just had to replace a way to get through it. She turned to face the store and all its empty aisles, cleaned and straightened to perfection.

“There certainly isn’t anything left to do here.” Her gaze stopped on the front doors. “And I won’t be making one damn sale today.” A wave of anxious misery snaked through her, and she pressed a hand to her forehead as thoughts of failure, of losing the store, of going bankrupt swam in her head. “What now, Faith? What the hell are you going to do now?”

This was when those lightning strikes of anger usually came. The ones that prompted her to yell at her father for leaving her. After which she always melted into tears.

But she was just too exhausted for that kind of emotional dump. And this place was too empty, too hollow to stay in tonight alone.

She took a few deep breaths to ease the sting of tears and did the only thing she could do. The only thing she knew how to do. The only thing that had worked for her in the past. She pulled on her jacket, collected all the notes relating to her last-ditch effort to save the store, grabbed a pencil, a notepad, the laptop, and headed into the freezing night.

While her store had been empty, Holly itself was alive with tourists and locals spilling out of the festival and strolling along the flashy streets.

In contrast, Faith traversed the adorable block in a mere ninety seconds and ducked into the warmth of Yuletide Spirits. The pub was as packed as she’d expected. Every seat at the bar was taken. Most of the tables were occupied. Quite a few people were milling among friends.

Faith caught sight of an empty one-person table in the corner, then sidestepped toward the bar and waved at Kelly.

“Hey, girl,” Kelly said. “What’s up?”

“Is it okay if I take the one-top in the corner for about an hour? I needed to get out of the store.”

Someone yelled for service at the other end of the bar, and Kelly shot the man a glare that would have taken him off at the knees if he weren’t already plastered.

When Kelly turned back to Faith, she said, “As long as you don’t do that”—she tipped her head toward the offender—“you can have the table all night.”

“Thanks.” Faith pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and laid it on the bar. “Give me whatever drink has the most alcohol and cover it with enough sugar that I won’t even know it’s there.”

Kelly pulled a glass from a shelf, set it on a rubber mat, and started mixing the drink. “That kind of day for you too, huh?”

“I need to replace complete and total detachment. Fast.”

“This will do it.” Kelly lifted the finished drink, saluting Faith. “Here’s to a quick end to Christmas Eve.”

Faith pushed the twenty forward, sad that a day she’d always loved now caused her so much pain. Even sadder that she’d thought she’d found someone special to share it with only to be heartbroken.

She wove through the crowd, claimed her table, and did her best to lose herself in the combination of luscious alcohol and these strange new online business opportunities.

The alcohol shaved off an edge of stress, the crowd helped her shake the loneliness, and the ideas Grant had sketched out based on Taylor’s experience were, well, pretty amazing. Simple, yet powerful. And he’d tiered the startup, adding in ways Faith could learn how to produce the most effective videos, write the most interesting blogs, replace the best sponsorships, set up the most profitable affiliate links…

“Shit,” she murmured, looking over his smooth, slanted male handwriting. “This is so…doable.”

Turning to Taylor’s pages, Faith looked at the different numbers again to see where her friend’s profits came from. Compared that to Grant’s plan. And, hell, even if Faith consistently made ten percent of what Taylor did, it would help make ends meet. Thirty percent and she’d be secure, with the extra cash she needed to expand the business in ways that would bring in more sales, more contracts, more customers. Fifty percent and she’d be floating. She’d already made a couple thousand dollars in affiliate income on her single Christmas Fantasia Light Show video.

Excitement sparked hope. Hope lifted her mood. Maybe she’d get out from under this black cloud after all.

At least financially. Personally…that was another story.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Between the time the male voice touched her ears and the time she looked into the man’s eyes, Faith realized it was Grant. Her stomach fluttered into her throat, but a protective barrier closed around her heart.

“What…?” They’d been broadcasting the Christmas tree lighting live from DC just a few hours ago. He should be at some party with all those famous people she’d seen in the crowd. Or at his place doing Bridgette. Faith glanced over him. “Is that…a tux?”

“Yeah. Long story. Can we talk? Maybe back at the store where it’s quiet?”

Her gut clenched around a tug of war between her heart and her gut. Stand up for yourself, Faith. No one else will do it for you.

“No. I came here to get away from the store.”

He sighed, looked around. “Okay.”

He disappeared into the crowd, giving Faith time to breathe. Time to process his sudden return. She hadn’t known whether he would be coming back to town or not. And she’d made peace with their good-bye.

But now her guts were churning again. Her heart aching again. She couldn’t do this. She shouldn’t have to do this.

And the fact was…she didn’t have to do this.

Faith pushed all her papers into a pile and grabbed the laptop. But before she could stand, he was back with a chair. He dropped it opposite her booth seat and gently pulled her things from her arms, setting them on the table.

“I’m in the middle of something here.” Hold on to the anger. Hold on to the anger. If she didn’t, she’d cave. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.”

He laughed. It was a tired, you-are-so-freaking-adorable laugh. “Man, I missed you.” He leaned forward and took her hands. “That had to be the longest thirty-six hours of my ever-loving life.”

“Stop, Grant.” She pulled her hands back. “Look, I understand you have a life somewhere else. But I’m not going to be just another woman in another port you can drop in on anytime it suits you.”

“Whoa…” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “Faith, where did that come from?”

“I watched the event on television. Did you want me to see you with her? Was it some bizarre game to boost your ego?” She couldn’t do this. She was going to snap. “I said good-bye. And I meant it.”

“I know. And, like an idiot, I didn’t realize that until just a few hours ago.”

God, she was tired—tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of hurting. “She pressed her elbow to the table and dropped her head into her hand, trying to get rid of the tears before they fell. “Grant, don’t,” she begged. “It was so good. I don’t want it to end like this.”

His big hand cupped her cheek. He leaned close, his voice a heavy, urgent rasp. “I don’t want it to end at all.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back. “I already told you—”

“I don’t want anyone but you. I didn’t ask Bridgette to the event. You can ask my agent—he set Bridgette up as my date for the parties before and after because he didn’t know I was seeing you. She wasn’t supposed to be there. That’s why she showed up at the very end and was only there for a few minutes.” His explanation—even if it wasn’t true, though she was starting to think it might be, because why would he have come all this way when he had Bridgette willing to bang him in DC?—softened the edge off her hurt and anger.

And they sat there a long moment, staring at each other, his eyes begging.

“I was waiting for the president to get to the reception,” he finally said, “so I could take a damn picture with him and go home, when I realized that while I was saying good-bye to you for the day, you were saying good-bye to me for good.”

He suddenly seemed vulnerable in a way she’d never imagined this big strong hockey player could.

Her throat thickened with emotion, but there was still too much gray space between truth and fiction. “Seemed like the right time. It was inevitable, and I didn’t see the point in dragging it out.”

“Thing is…” He leaned forward again and collected one of her hands between his. Faith didn’t pull it away, but she didn’t engage either. And it was excruciatingly difficult. “I don’t see it as inevitable. A few days ago, I wanted to ask if you’d think about continuing to see me.”

Faith’s heart tripped, and her mind scanned backward. She hadn’t seen any sign of that.

“But, man, that’s no small thing in my world. And you’ve had so much to deal with, I didn’t want to put another pressure on your shoulders.”

Disbelief narrowed Faith’s eyes. “I’m not your type. I’m not even close to your type.”

He exhaled, long and slow, then thought a minute. “Okay,” he finally said, “I’m going to talk fast, because I know you’re not going to listen for long. You’re right, you’re not my type. Which is exactly why I can’t shake you. Why it felt like I was gone a month when I was only gone a day. Why I fell so damn hard for you. And why I can’t even think about another woman.”

A current traveled through her chest. She didn’t know if it was excitement, fear, or anger, but she pushed her chair back. She needed space—to think, to breathe.

“The women I’ve seen over the past few years have all been just like Bridgette,” he went on. “They don’t care about anyone or anything but themselves and what they want. They care about their looks, their image, and their money. I slept with them because neither of us was looking for anything more than sex. They were easy to come by and easy to let go. But you were different from the start.”

Faith’s heart was beating so fast, she pressed her hand to her chest. “Grant—”

“When I was in DC after being here for two weeks, I could barely stand it. Everyone felt plastic. Everything felt scripted. And all I wanted to do was come home. Only I didn’t want to come back here for Holly, or even my family. I wanted to come back for you, Faith. I wanted to come back because…” He released a breath, looked away, then looked back, and that vulnerability had returned. The one that twisted her heart. “I came back because you feel like home to me. And I don’t want to let that go. I don’t want to let you go.”

All Faith’s breath rushed out on a soft sound of shock. “But…you have to go back. Your life is there. Mine is here. I have to figure out the store…” She pressed a hand to her face. Dropped back in the chair. And in her mind’s eye, her life spun like a cyclone. “I… You… How?”

He pressed an elbow to the table and rested his forehead against his fingers. “This is why I didn’t bring it up before I left. I don’t have an easy answer. The regular season doesn’t end until mid-April. If we go into the playoffs, it won’t end until June. We get the summer off—mostly—and training camps start up in September.”

He leaned forward and slid his hands up her thighs until he took hers again. “I haven’t thought through the details yet. I only know that I’ve been with enough women to know when I’ve found someone different, someone special, someone worth holding on to. And I want that with you, Faith. I want to at least try to make this work.”

His pretty eyes brightened with hope. So much hope. So much honesty. Her dad had always said she was a good judge of character. If he were here, he would tell her that all she could do was base her decision on what she knew of Grant firsthand, not gossip or hearsay. He’d tell Faith to trust her gut and follow her heart.

And Faith’s mind was spinning, trying to replace a way to make it feasible. She didn’t realize how long she’d been lost in thought until Grant shrugged one shoulder and dropped his gaze. “If that’s not what you want, or it’s too soon—”

Faith reached for his face, cupped his jaw, and lifted his gaze to hers. “It’s what I want,” she said breathlessly. “But, I’m not gonna lie, it scares the hell out of me.”

Relief washed over his features, and a smile brightened his face. The sight of the clouds clearing from his expression brought joy to Faith’s heart. She leaned in and kissed him. And with her lips against his, she knew—this was right. This was where she belonged now. It was the right time to take this risk.

When she pulled back, he brushed hair off her face. “I was thinking about it a lot on the way home. My lifestyle isn’t great. I travel—a lot. But the owner bought the team a new plane last year, one that’s more efficient and faster and seats almost a hundred people. That means I’m usually home the same night I play. And if we’ve got back-to-back games where we’ll be gone awhile, the owner lets the guys bring their girlfriends or wives. The team would cover your expenses on those trips like they cover mine—hotel, food.”

“Wait, what…?” Streaks of heat coursed through Faith’s chest. Panic? Fear? Excitement? God, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t understand…”

He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. His eyes were soft and drenched with affection. He looked at her in a way no one had looked at her since high school.

“I waited too long to tell you how I felt a couple of days ago, and I almost lost you. I’m not going to risk that again. You can always say no, but I won’t always have the opportunity to offer. I’d really like you to consider moving to DC with me.”

“Oh my God.” Her world tipped on its axis. She put a hand over her hammering heart.

He lifted his hands as if that would stop the barrage of thoughts and emotion that poured through her. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and if you’re not sure about us, we can replace you your own place. But, man, I really love the idea of coming home to you after a long day on the ice, and that is something I never thought I’d say. My place is way too big for one person, so you’d have plenty of your own space. And yeah, it pretty much looks like a bachelor pad, but I could deal with some changes.” He grinned a little. “You know, small ones.”

That made her laugh, but her lungs felt way too small, and she couldn’t seem to get enough air.

“There’s real possibility in Taylor’s business model for you, and you can blog and tape videos from anywhere. You’ve already been thinking about making Joe manager, which would allow you to concentrate on this new business plan. And, baby, I would set you up one killer studio in the extra bedroom. I’m talkin’ professional-grade equipment.”

She laughed. “Sounds like a bribe.”

“Call it what you want. And”—he winced—“don’t get pissed, but I was so excited about the possibilities for this new venture that on the way home, I called another player who’s dating one of the anchors on a local morning show, and asked him to pitch the idea of a weekly Fix-It segment—”

“What?”

His wince transitioned into a grimace. “You don’t have to do it. It’s just in the idea phase—”

“Oh my God.” She squeezed his hands. “That’s amazing. This is just all so—”

“Overwhelming. I know. I’m sorry. It sounds like I’m going to get called back in the next day or two, and I want you to know everything before I have to leave. You don’t have to make any decisions until you’re ready.” He threaded their fingers. “We’ll just have to have phone sex.”

That made Faith burst out laughing and allowed her to take a full deep breath.

“You could fly from New York to Ashville with just one connection,” Grant continued. “It’s about three hours, and I’ve got a ton of frequent-flier miles you could use. You could come here once a month if you want, more often if you need to. When I’m not playing or training, I could come with you, but realistically, that won’t be until June, which is why I’m asking about you moving in with me and not offering to move here for you.”

“The fact that you even thought about it says everything.” She put a hand to her temple. “You’re making my head spin.”

He grinned. “Tell me about it.” But then he just kept talking, his enthusiasm growing. “DC is such a cool place to live. God, there’s so much to show you. There’s always something to do. And I think you’d really enjoy the team. They’re no different from the guys you deal with in your store every day, and I know you’d be a welcome change to some of the high-maintenance women the other guys have in their lives. There’s a lot of laughter, bitching, practical jokes, and a whole hell of a lot of meals and hanging out together. We’re sort of one big ugly family, for better or worse.”

Faith’s nose stung with encroaching tears. But these were happy tears. “That sounds…” Warm, joyous, fun… She laughed. “Amazing.”

His brows shot up, and his eyes took on that stunned glaze. “Yeah?”

She stroked his face. “And scary and unnerving, but yeah.” She kissed him and rested her forehead against his. “If you’re sure you want me around that much, I’m sure I’m ready to give it a try.”

“No way.” He pulled back, eyes wide. “Really?”

She laughed. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Well… It’s… Because…” He regrouped. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d leave the store. And I didn’t think you’d leave Holly. This is your home.”

She curled her fingers into Grant’s collar. “My dad always said, home is only home because the people you love are there.” She scraped her bottom lip between her teeth, the realization that she had fallen so hard for this man so quickly making her nerves tighten and shiver. “So wherever you are, I guess that’s going to be my home from now on.”

He cupped her face, scanning every inch while more emotions flashed through his eyes. Warm, real emotions that made Faith feel like the most beautiful, most wanted woman in the world.

“Have I told you lately,” he asked, “how amazing you are?”

“I doubt a girl could get tired of hearing something like that.”

He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You, Faith Nicholas, are a-freaking-mazing. And if you’re willing to put up with my bullshit during the season, I am willing to indulge your every desire off-season.” He grinned. “And every night, on or off season. I am so crazy about you, I can’t even put it into words.”

He kissed her again, and that light-headed sensation returned, making Faith dizzy with happiness. She opened to him for a long, deep kiss filled with emotion. And when she pulled back, she stroked his cheek. “What do you say we close this deal…in my room?”

Grant laughed and pulled her against him, holding her tight. “Baby,” he murmured in her ear, “I’d say this is going to be one very merry Christmas.”