Page 4 of Enduring Christmas

Never would she begrudge others their slice at a blissful life, but she was done with ever afters. One try had utterly destroyed her previous life. Xenobia wanted an emotional safe haven to rebuild her life. Endurance, California had been her escape from family, friends, and the ties to her existence before the fall. Yes, fall was the best description of a wife who'd lost her husband. And, the height from which she'd tumbled had been so great, she refused to even try again.

"Her nose is cold, Daddy," a little girl's voice whispered. "Just like Me How’s."

Who or what was a Me Hows?

In the recesses of her mind, Xenobia knew the last place she should be was in bed. If this was a school day, she should be well prepared to educate Endurance's youngest minds, Keurig coffee timer set, Bento Box lunch prepared, her slacks steam pressed. Skirts were a no-no. Elementary students tugged anything waist-level and below. She had no intention of being a viral You-tube sensation. The coordinating makeup palettes lined her bathroom counter before she closed her eyes every night. So, this randomness, these foreign, yet gentle touches confounded her. And there was more, the undeniable scent of a strong masculine woodsy musk intermingled with roaring firewood. That scent she liked it felt cozy, warm—happy. Definitely, not her one-bedroom hunter's cabin. Condos, townhouses, apartments-the idea of mixed housing were an affront to living in Endurance. The rental did have a fireplace. Most residents, single or married lived in two-three-bedroom log homes on family land. Ghostly desired the non-existent rental market. Her teaching contract had come with housing and a relocation bonus. The perfect lure for a woman with no roots to speak of. Alarm bells clamored behind her closed lids. Who touched which such loving care? Where had she been before occupying this strange bed?

Smitty's Watering Hole. Her fall. Luke.

The call from her former brother-in-law had driven her onto the ice. Why did Ramsey keep reaching, reminding her of old mistakes? She wanted to leave the past on the east coast.

Ramsey, I'm fine. She'd told him. And she was, in a sense. She'd gone out of her way to minimize loose friendships while in Endurance. The position at the elementary school kept her busy. She'd even managed to snag a few dates on the N2U Dating app. Nothing serious, which suited her intention to remain satisfied and single. The sense of satisfaction quickly faded when she spotted Luke at her favorite lake. Well. Smitty's Watering Hole was the only public lake in Endurance. Now, she was hearing his voice. Christmas carolers, fireworks, windstorms, you name it, and she could still recognize Luke's baritone in the fray. His gruff chuckle cut through her internal musings.

"X, come back to me. Open your eyes."

Xenobia opened her eyes and looked directly at Luke Cole's handsome face. She didn't like him, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember why. Whatever the reason had to be important, so she said the first thought that came to her mind.

"Have you been kissing me?" She smacked her lips a few times, trying to relieve the sandpaper sensation in her mouth.

He laughed, deep, low and oh so sexy. "Nope yet."

The nervous butterflies she got as a young woman in the company of a man she liked took flight. "Thanks for saving me."

"You're welcome." He looked so smug. Her eyes lowered to his mouth. No way would she thank him with a kiss. But you want to.

"Daddy, why can't we kiss, Miss X-n-o-bia?"

At the sound of the little girl's voice, Xenobia painstakingly shifted her gaze from Luke to the other voice in the room. Down, down, down she let her eyes rove until she spotted blonde curls whipped up like lemon frosting into two ponytails. Excited golden-brown eyes above a pert nose and smiling lips watched her.

"Hi," came a shy greeting, following by giggles.

Xenobia smiled down at the adorable child. "Hiddy ho, Shiloh."

"Daddy she's awake." She laughed and hid her face under the covers.

And leaving, Xenobia thought.

Besides the comfortable bed cradling her achy body, the room was decorated in rich mahogany colors and dark woods. Beyond the foot of the bed, firelight flickered in a rounded hearth, a soft glow bathing the recliner chair with its reading lamp and table nearby. To her right, fresh, damp snow covered the window ledge completing the picturesque Norman Rockwell scene. Brain finally painted a complete picture. She was in Luke's house, nope it was worse than that. Her breathing increased. Xenobia Yardell-widow—bad choice maker in the men's department—with wide hips and a multiple dips figure, was in Luke Cole's bed.

Leaning over her, he antagonized her with a twisted smirk. "Sleeping beauty awakes from her drool fest."

She needed her Poker face. Having Luke close by she had to be careful, not reveal her hand. Her losing hand because the attraction he kept touting was indeed mutual. They fought like a bull and a Matador. Honestly, she was sure who was the most stubborn. The man had a determination streak two miles long. Since that one kiss, he would not drop the topic. The angrier she became at his continued pursuit, the madder he railed at her denial.

"Don't call me beautiful," she croaked. Had he changed clothes? A long-sleeve black thermal clung to the broad chest she'd dreamed about, but never had the viewing pleasure. Six feet of sculpted thighs and defined calves were covered in loose athletic pants. His hair appeared darker and she realized his wavy mane was damp from a recent shower.

He gave her loose curls a playful tug. "I didn't."

"Yes, you did." She angled her head away.

"Stop." This was Luke. Bossy, stubborn, demanding, and sexy. Really sexy. If he didn't like something, he straight up told her. If only all men could be upfront with women. Her husband had been the perfect gentleman, and the ultimate dirtbag.

"You trying to dust-up, again?"

She moved to shift her weight, but her limbs felt like they were encased in ice. Not only that, one side of her head pounded like Santa's eight gleeful reindeer had pranced a line-dance on her face. And that's when the purring started, soft, but constant.

"There was a cat in the bed, too?"

He began a theatrical hand flourish. "Introducing Luke and the band."