‘Twas a month before Christmas, and all through the town,Christmas is my favorite time of year with the festive parties and holiday cheer. But having Connor Tyler move in next door is as much fun as searching for a burned-out bulb in a string of lights.
His rugged good looks and guitar can make anyone swoon. That doesn’t change the fact that he slammed the door in my face when I welcomed him with a tray of homemade cookies.
But I won’t let his bah-humbug attitude damper my holiday spirit. This year, more than ever, I need to deck the halls and revel in being jolly. As I ramp up my holiday cheer, Connor spends more and more time casting lingering glances toward my… mistletoe. When a blizzard hits, a gesture of hospitality leads to exchanging more than presents.
As Christmas draws nearer, I chip away at his icy facade only to discover a painful truth. There’s an expiration date on his time next door.
And I’m certain I don’t have enough boxes of tinsel to convince him to stay.
“Maybe you could teach me something?”
“Yeah? You want to play the guitar?”
She nods.
“What do you want to learn?”
She purses her lips, the corner of her mouth tips up to the side as she decides on her answer. “‘Love You Anyway’ by Luke Combs. I love that song.”
“Country?”
She bobs her head up and down.
“I don’t do country.”
“Oh.” Her face falls.
“I got a song I can teach you.” I pass her my guitar and she holds it in her lap. Rising to my feet, I move to kneel in front of her. “Wrap your hand around the neck like this.” I move her fingers so they’re over the strings. “And then rest your arms here and let it hang down. Keep it loose.” I move her other arm over the guitar body. “This is the C chord.” I grip her hand softly in mine and a jolt of electricity courses through my body. Her breath hitches and I know she felt it too. Our gazes meet for the briefest of seconds before I glance away. I move her finger to the correct string and then I hand her a pick from my pocket. “Strum this string while pressing down with your other hand.” She does exactly what I say. “Now this is G.” Again, I move her finger to the correct string, and she strums it. “Now try them together.”
Her tongue peeks out as she remembers where to place her fingers and strums the two chords. We continue this way for a few more chords. Sometimes she makes a mistake but starts over.
When I introduce a new chord, she tries to play it all back but messes up. “I can’t do this. My fingers aren’t that coordinated.”
“Here, let me try something. Scoot forward.” She does as I say, and I move to sit behind her. My front is pressed against her back. For a moment her body stiffens, but then she relaxes into me. I lean past her shoulder, her sweet vanilla scent invading my senses. What I wouldn’t do to nuzzle into her neck, savoring her delicious smell, and press my lips to her soft flesh. Quickly, I shake the thought from my head. Reaching around the neck, I set my fingers on the strings. “Put your fingers on mine. Then you can get a feel for the movement.” Her delicate fingers graze mine, barely touching me as if she’s afraid because she’ll feel the same current of electricity as I do.
I play the intro chords and then lead into the first verse. Her fingers brush against mine as I move over the strings. With my mouth next to her ear, I croon the lyrics to “Patience” by Guns N Roses. When I reach the end of the chorus, she releases a small giggle.
She tilts her head to face me. “‘Patience’. How fitting.”
I flash her a small smile but continue playing. Her gaze searches mine, then falls to my lips. Her hands fall to her sides as she inches her face closer to mine. A river of lust and desire flows between us. Her lips part and I stop singing when she sinks her teeth into the corner of her bottom lip. I’m itching to feel her soft bottom lip between my teeth. Then her lips crash to mine.
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When she’s not busy writing your next book boyfriend, Gia can be found playing in her vegetable garden, watching reruns of The OC and Gossip Girl, or curled up with a good book.
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