Chapter 12
[Saint]
Ishouldn’t have done it.
Not listen to the girl’s request. Not make the symbol in front of Lumi. Not even make a joke about it, like I have the power to make wishes come true.
But I want to. Whatever Lumi is thinking, whatever she’s wishing for this holiday season, I wish I could make it happen.
I’d garnered that having her son come home is her greatest desire, and if I could make that happen, I would.
Instead, we walk to The Shore Thing and press through the mass of bodies to make our way to the bar for another drink.
While I enjoyed the hot buttered rum, I’m going to need something stronger to prevent me from making more mistakes near this woman, like almost telling her who I am and what I wish could happen between us.
Thankfully, someone knocked into me, knocking sense into my thoughts.
With the bar as crowded as it is, I tug Lumi in front of me, positioning her back to my front, and using myself as a shield against the press of eager residents and holiday visitors wanting a drink after that interesting tree lighting ceremony.
I chuckle to myself. People love Christmas. And they love to decorate anything and everything to show their pleasure for this time of year.
A time for hope. A need for brightness. A desire for peace. Because that’s what light in the dark represents.
Let there be peace on earth.
With that heavy thought, I sigh and place a hand on Lumi’s hip to keep her steady in front of me.
“What do you want?” she shouts over her shoulder as we inch closer to the bar.
You.
The answer comes swiftly, and nearly knocks me backward, but shouldn’t surprise me. Lumi and I have been circling one another for almost a week, coming together to share dinner or a drink, plus our cookie-baking escapades.
Between her shift from eight-thirty to four-thirty at the post office, plus one night a week at Rusty’s when it stays open late, and another night to do their books, she stays very busy.
I wonder if the busyness helps with the loneliness.
Most times, it works for me. But other times, I want to slow down and I want to do it with someone by my side.
As an opening arises for us to move forward, I step in that direction, but Lumi steps back to allow the person in front of her to slip past us.
The movement brings her even closer to me.
Her body lines up with mine. Her back to my chest. Her ass to the zipper region of my pants.
My hands grip her hips tightly, holding her in place.
“You okay?” she says, glancing over her shoulder again. Her hair is brushed to the side now that she’s removed her knit cap. The second we walked into the overheated bar, we tore off hats and gloves and unzipped our jackets, but the space is still too warm. I’m even hotter with Lumi so close to me.
“Ayuh,” I say, having picked up on how the locals respond in the affirmative. Yes.
But really, the answer is no, because I want to clear this bar, press Lumi up against the counter, and nip at the section of skin exposed on her neck. Her green apple scent fills my nose. Her hips fill my hands.
I want—
“Saint?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks.
“We need to move forward.”
I hadn’t realized I was holding her so tightly that we weren’t even moving.
Loosening my hands, Lumi steps up to the bar counter and leans over it to speak to the blonde bartender from the other night.
The noise level is loud, like every resident of Hideaway Harbor decided to hang out for the night in this exact spot.
Lumi places our drink order and then leans back from the bar, but the bartender points upward. Lumi and I both look at the same time.
Mistletoe. Fuck.
“Come on,” the blonde bartender encourages. “It’s a Shore Thing.” Her play on the bar’s name would be funny if my throat weren’t suddenly so dry.
Space has opened up for me to slip next to Lumi as she shifted to lean her side against the bar.
“It’s not a sure thing,” she says, as her gaze flicks over our heads a second.
Only, I hear she’s not a sure thing. Or maybe it’s that suddenly I’m not certain of anything, other than I want to kiss Lumi. Despite the crowded bar. Despite the mistletoe. Despite needing to leave this town sooner rather than later.
Quickly, our drinks are plopped in front of us, and I hand over my credit card, finding my chance to act passing.
Lumi’s brows hitch. “American Express Black. Impressive.”
Only she doesn’t seem impressed. The Aston Martin. An elite black credit card. This woman, running a rundown auto repair shop and working at the post office, couldn’t care less about my wealth, which is a little refreshing, but also disconcerting.
Why not?
I’m not a material man, even though my business is based on children wanting material items. Yet, it has not escaped my attention that some women are typically turned on by a fancy car or a sky-high credit limit.
Not this woman. She’s been an anomaly from the start.
That Christmas gift you didn’t know you wanted until you unwrapped it.
However, I haven’t fully unwrapped Lumi Snowe.
When my card is returned, the bartender asks if I want to keep the tab open. I glance at Lumi, who shakes her head.
“I don’t like to say I’m old, but I’m feeling my age tonight.” She glances around us where a large percentage of the patronage is under forty.
Stepping to the side so the next person in line can order drinks, Lumi huddles close to me once more with the press of people around us. She greets a few who easily recognize her.
“Hazard of living in a small town all your life. And never leaving.” She smiles weakly as she sips her drink. Another hot buttered rum for consistency.
However, when someone pushes her from behind, she pitches forward and her drink lands on me.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” She’s twisting side to side with no hope of getting closer to the bar for napkins, while the front of my green flannel is soaked through to my skin.
“No worries.” I wince while I brush at the warm liquid seeping through the cloth. Thankfully, my shirt is absorbing the heat, but I’m done here.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Lumi says, her voice almost relieved over the idea of leaving the crowded bar.
I down my whiskey in one smooth gulp before handing my empty glass to Lumi, and she passes it to the person behind her to set on the bar.
Zipping up my jacket, I grimace as the sopping wet flannel clings to me. When Lumi and I step outside, I shiver against the rush of cold after being overheated in the bar.
The main area of Hideaway Harbor is within walking distance of Lumi’s home, and Lumi walks everywhere, especially tonight when she thought she’d be drinking. Without a car, I’m at her mercy, so we walk in silence the few blocks to her house.
As we walk, I note the canopy of stars like I did the other night.
There is something magical about them, twinkling from light years away, and yet almost so close I can reach up and touch one.
What I’d really like to touch is Lumi’s hand, holding the warmth of it in mine.
Instead, I admire the garland on lampposts and wreaths on front doors.
The quiet of a winter’s night, where people are cozy in their warm homes, or in the case of tonight, filling up the downtown district of Hideaway Harbor to celebrate their pride and love for this place.
The one thing I ignore as we walk is that traveling countdown calendar, not wanting to be reminded that time is ticking on my stay here.
A layer of white snow blankets the lawns, but as we walk, a fresh dusting falls from the sky, adding to the magical aura and holiday atmosphere.
“It’s like being in a snow globe,” Lumi whispers, and I glance at her. She tips her face upward despite our slow walk. Her long lashes blink as snow tickles her face. She smiles toward the heavens. She looks . . . peaceful, and I gaze upward as well, as if I can capture that peace.
Quickly, I look back at her, realizing she’s the tranquility of this night.
Lumi eventually lowers her head and peers at me, offering me the same warm smile she gave the stars. My chest fills, my heart skips a beat. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in my life.
Once we reach her front landing, I’m suddenly nervous.
Lumi’s place is narrow and upright, and clad in the classic cedar shingles of a New England home.
Her yard is tiny with thick bushes on either side of the wooden steps leading to her front door.
A string of white lights drapes over the lower-level windows, outlined with white trim.
Our walk to her place shouldn’t have felt any different than the other nights I’ve walked her home, and yet tonight feels special. Like I’ve been on a date, which I haven’t done in decades. Panic seizes me about her opening her front door, like a spell will be broken once the key hits the lock.
“Wait.” I catch her forearm as she inserts the key into the lock. Releasing the key, she turns to face me. Her rosy cheeks illuminate from the simple light over our heads in the small triangular canopy.
“I just wanted to say that I appreciate you letting me stay at your place. And I’ve had a good time hanging out with you this week.”
Slowly, her lips curl. “I’ve had fun with you as well. You aren’t half bad as a houseguest.”
I’ve graduated from the couch to her son’s room. As he isn’t coming home, she’d said, allowing me to take over the vacant space that’s still decorated like a teenage boy lives here.
She turns back for the key in the lock.
“But, I—” I catch her arm again, and Lumi turns back toward me, her eyes questioning mine.
I lick my lips, and Lumi’s gaze follows the stroke of my tongue.
Dammit, this shouldn’t be so difficult. I’m out of practice, I tell myself. Only the truth is, this woman makes me nervous in a good way.
Reaching for her jaw, I cup the soft edge of her face.
“I want to kiss you,” I admit, giving her a chance to reject the idea.
“There’s no mistletoe in sight,” she teases.
“I don’t need mistletoe to want to kiss you, Lumi.”
“Okay,” she whispers, giving me that shy smile she’d share with the stars. She looks hopeful, shyly eager, but reality slams into me, like a blizzard throwing me off course.
“But I can’t make any promises to you.” And a woman like Lumi deserves promises. She deserves oaths and vows and everything she desires. She’s already been hurt by one man who didn’t stick around.
“I’m not looking for promises.” Her voice is still quiet, like we’ll disturb her neighbors.
My thumb strokes her cheekbone while my gaze falls to her mouth.
“Just a kiss,” I whisper, leaning closer to her. That’s all I can give. It’s what I want to take.
“Is that your Christmas wish?” she teases, while her voice is so low, it’s raspy, nearly breathless. Her throat rolls.
“Yes.” Slipping my other hand against her cheek, I pull her closer to me.
As our lips meet, my body heats, like the sudden flash of a tree being lit or the star on the top bursting into color. I step even closer to her, despite layers of winter outerwear and my wet flannel shirt that doesn’t even register while her lips connect with mine.
Promising that this moment will live in my memory forever.
Lumi kisses me back with the same strained patience I’m offering her. Taking my time to sip at her lips and outline her mouth before breaking the seam for a slight swipe of her tongue which tastes like hot buttered rum and more.
The more is what I want to savor, and I tighten my grip on her cheeks, holding her closer to me, as our mouths move, continuing the stroll over each other.
Lumi is all the warm things I imagine when I’m cold.
Sunshine on a beach. Hot chocolate in a mug. Crackling logs in a fireplace.
More.
I want to get closer and yet I know it’d be selfish to take advantage of her kindness.
Pulling back sooner than I’d like, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. Green apple and warm rum and everything I wish I could ask Santa to deliver on Christmas.
But cannot.