A Christmas anti-miracle. Crap.
“I understand,” I said.
“Still got time for a cup of coffee, if you’re willing to share,” he said.
“Since you made it I think I can spare a cup.”
He nudged me back inside and whistled for Betty. My dog dragged her face out of the snow and trotted to the door.
“You pour,” I suggested on our way back to the kitchen. “I’ll feed Whinnie. She gets cranky if I don’t follow her schedule.”
“Already done,” he said.
I stopped on the linoleum. “What? How?”
He nodded toward Addy’s binder on the counter. “Your girl’s instruction manual.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
He flashed me his trademark smirk as he thumbed open the bottle of Tylenol. “Sore today?”
“In a variety of places for a variety of reasons,” I admitted with a grin.
He passed me two tablets, then poured himself a cup of coffee.
We were facing each other on opposite sides of the counter. I reached over and grasped his arm. “Vonn, thank you for last night and this morning. I just… Thank you.”
He leaned down on his elbows, bringing himself closer to me. “Thank you.”
“I’m not writing the story,” I told him, the words coming out in a rush. My editor would shit a brick. Which meant not only would I not be getting the staff writer job, I also wouldn’t be getting any more freelance assignments. But what had happened between me and Vonn was bigger, more significant than a job.
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
“It’s not right. Sharing with the world what you shared with me?” I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t ask you to give up your dream for me,” he said quietly.
“To be honest, after looking at it from your perspective, I don’t think I’d be happy as a journalist. I love music. Not prying into people’s tragedies.”
Vonn’s confidence in me meant more than any job or any byline.
I’d find another way, another job.
He reached out and cupped my face in his hand. “You’re a hell of a girl, Brooke.”
“And you’re one sexy Santa.”
“I want you to think about me,” he said firmly.
As if I had a choice.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” I assured him.
“I want you to remember that there’s someone out there who knows your secrets and has your back.”
This was one hell of a one-night stand. An abbreviated romance that I knew I would look back on fondly for the rest of my life.
“There’s actually one more secret.” I pulled the journal out of my pocket and slid it across the counter to him. “Don’t open it now, or I’ll die of embarrassment.”