I don’t know what I’m thinking inviting him back to my house. This is crazy. But the way we’re falling into our old ways makes it feel right, and before I know it, I’m unlocking my front door.

Nick looks around my living room, which is decorated for Christmas. My modest six-foot tree stands in the corner all lit up with colored lights and Lenox ornaments my parents bought for me over the years. The banister leading upstairs is strung with garland and red bows. And the archway leading into the kitchen has mistletoe hanging from it.

“Wow,” Nick says. “It’s like a Christmas wonderland in here. You even have a train around the base of your tree.”

I walk over and turn on the train so it starts looping around the track. I turn to meet Nick’s gaze and bob one shoulder. “What can I say? It’s my favorite holiday.”

“Always was,” he says, his voice filled with nostalgia. He raises the to-go boxes our food is in. “Should I bring these to the kitchen?”

“Right through there,” I say, pointing as I remove Nick’s jacket and toss it over the arm of the couch.

He steps into the archway and briefly glances up at the mistletoe. I turn away, my cheeks warming at the thought of Nick’s lips pressed against mine. He was a great kisser. Is he still? Has his technique changed with age? I’m suddenly dying to find out.

Once he’s inside the kitchen, I allow myself to follow. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” I ask, already reaching for mugs in the cabinet over the microwave.

“Only if you have plenty of marshmallows.”

I smile, remembering how much he loved marshmallows. “You got it.”

He opens our food containers and grabs silverware from the drawer as if he’s been here numerous times. He makes himself at home at the table, but he doesn’t start eating.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say, bringing our mugs of hot chocolate to the table.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” He reaches for his mug, which is loaded with so many marshmallows the hot chocolate isn’t even visible. “Just the way I like it,” he says with a smile.

I sit down and dig into my food, and we fall into easy conversation. Being with Nick again is almost too easy. I can tell he doesn’t resent me for leaving him. Maybe he thinks I did us both a favor. He’s probably here because he’s moving back to the area and I’m a familiar face, someone to help him get reacquainted with Sapphire Springs. But can I really be his friend when looking at him elicits these feelings inside me that never went away?

When the meal is over and it’s time to say goodnight, I’m filled with longing. He hasn’t even left yet, and I miss him already. “Tell your parents ‘hi’ for me,” I say, placing my leftovers in the refrigerator and tossing his empty to-go container.

“Are you kicking me out?” he asks with a cock of his head.

“No, I just thought...” That I can’t handle being this close to him and not succumbing to these feelings inside me. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I’ll wash. You dry.” He walks to the sink and turns on the faucet.

“You want to do the dishes?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“I helped make them, so I should help clean them up.”

Damn it, he’s perfect! I grab a dishtowel and watch as he cleans a mug.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas? Will you be spending the day with your parents?” he asks.

“Actually, they’re spending Christmas and New Years in the Caribbean.” God, I must sound pathetic not having plans for the biggest holiday of the year. “April invited me to tag along with her, but I think I’d rather stick around here and have a quiet day watching Christmas movies on TV.”

He hands me the mug to dry, and his eyes linger on me. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

“Allow what?” I dry the mug and put it away like it’s no big deal I’m a pathetic loser with nowhere to go this Christmas.

“You and I are going to spend the day together.”

“But you have plans with your parents,” I protest.

He shakes his head. “They’ll understand. I’m taking you out for a big Christmas dinner. I’ll even come over in the morning and we can open gifts.”

“Gifts?” What gifts? My tree has a train beneath it, not presents.

“You can’t have Christmas without gifts.”

“Nick, you’re crazy. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. There’s no time to get gifts.” Besides, him bailing me out by playing Santa at the Christmas party tomorrow is gift enough.

“I always wait until Christmas Eve to do my shopping. It’s the best time to go. There’s no debating over gifts because you have to find something.”

I laugh. “So I’ll be getting socks and slippers?” The malls are always overloaded with those last-minute gift items.

He smiles and leans toward me, close enough I could kiss him if I was bold enough. “I’m not telling.”

I clear my throat, breaking the tension that’s weaved its way into the tiny space between us. We finish the dishes, and I walk him out. He bends down in the archway between the kitchen and living room and picks up something on the floor. When he stands, I see it’s the mistletoe.

“I guess this fell while we were eating,” he says, holding it up to refasten it. Once he does, he lowers his hands, and they come to rest on my arms. He gently nudges me so I’m positioned under the mistletoe with him. “Christmas tradition,” he whispers softly, his eyes locked on mine. He dips his head ever so slightly, giving me plenty of time to pull away. But I don’t. No part of me wants to. I tilt my head slightly before his mouth meets mine. The kiss is soft at first, a mere brush of our lips. But then my hands lift of their own volition and find his waist. That’s the only encouragement he needs. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping across mine. He’s still an amazing kisser, and my head spins, making me lightheaded. His arms wrap around me, sweeping me off my feet, and he carries me to the couch. I’m relieved he didn’t try to take me upstairs, because I know I wouldn’t have stopped him. Even if I’m not ready for things to move that quickly yet.

He’s cradling me in his lap, and my hands cup his face. I’m not sure if I’m afraid he’ll pull away or if I just need to touch him to make sure this is really happening.

“I’ve missed you,” Nick says in a breathy whisper as his mouth leaves mine and his lips trail down my neck.

I pause at his words, and his eyes flit to mine.

“I’m sorry. Should I not have said that?” he asks.

“No, it’s just that... I missed you, too.”

He smiles and captures my mouth again. I lower my hands and start unbuttoning his shirt. My fingers trace the muscles on his chest, eliciting a moan from him. I dip my head and press a kiss to his left pectoral muscle right above his heart. It’s something I used to do after we made love. He freezes, his eyes locked on mine, and I’m sure I’ve gone too far. That gesture used to be synonymous with saying “I love you.” Why did I do it?

“I think I should probably go,” he says.

“Oh.” I climb off his lap and swallow hard. “Sure.” I brush the front of my shirt, patting down imaginary wrinkles in the fabric.

“Holly,” he says.

“No, it’s fine. It’s getting late, and I have a busy day tomorrow with the Christmas party and all. I’ll see you at four o’clock, though, right?” Please don’t back out of playing Santa because I did something stupid.

“Of course. Four o’clock.”

“Great.” I grab his jacket off the arm of the couch and hand it to him, avoiding eye contact. As soon as he takes it, I start for the door. “Drive safely, okay?”

“Holly.” His voice is soft.

I close my eyes, willing the tears to hold off until he’s gone. “Please, Nick. I’m really tired.”

He nods when I open my eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” The second he’s outside, I close the door and lean my back against it. The tears that have been burning my eyes spill down my cheeks at my stupidity. Why did I let myself think things between Nick and me would be different now? Why did I have to kiss his chest like that? He always said that was how he knew I truly loved him, because I could touch his heart in more ways than one. In that one move, I let him know I’m not over him. That my heart still belongs to him. I have no right to feel this way after leaving him the way I did. I must look like a crazy woman in his eyes, and I’m sure that after the Christmas party tomorrow evening, Nick Masters will keep his distance from me for good.