6. Sunny

CHAPTER 6

Sunny

S omeone with an awfully soft beard was licking my face. I peeled open my eyes and found myself looking at a dog’s muzzle.

I chuckled. “Good morning, Ms. Sweetie.”

She licked my nose.

“Sorry,” Gray said, his morning voice even deadlier than his fully awake voice. “She was curious about the man who spackled himself to me like a giant squid last night.”

“Is that a complaint?” I asked, slowly moving my muscles, enjoying the ache in my ass.

He tightened his grip on me, then shook his head. “Not even close.”

There was a gentleness in his voice—the exact kind of gentleness that had surprised me yesterday. We hadn’t woken from our nap until well into the evening, and I’d been certain that Gray would want me to make a hasty retreat.

Only . . . he didn’t. He made us grilled cheese sandwiches, which we ate in bed, and then he kissed me until I was hard again. He then slid on a condom and cozied up against my backside, big-spooning me as he slipped inside.

I’d taken him for someone who would simply be efficient in bed, like those guys who said that sex was a necessity for them, but that they preferred to keep it impersonal.

Nothing about last night had been impersonal. I’d seen underneath all of Gray’s icy exterior to the molten core below, and now I couldn’t unsee it. It was like going outside expecting fog and finding a rainbow.

“I was going to get up and make us some coffee,” Gray said, his voice only slightly less rumbly as he ran his fingers through my hair.

“I suppose that means I’ll have to let you go, then,” I said, squeezing him harder.

He smiled. “Eventually.”

Jesus. His smile was even more dangerous than his morning voice.

I let him go, gave Ms. Sweetie a kiss on the head, and was shocked to find Lunchbox snuggled up right next to her.

I grimaced as Gray rolled from the bed. “Sorry. Didn’t realize Lunchbox had gotten in on the action.”

Gray reached out and ruffled the fluff on Lunchbox’s head. “I disentangled myself from you earlier and took them out. When we got back in, he seemed to want to join us.”

“That was awfully sweet of you.”

“Well . . .” He laughed. “The second I got back in bed, you practically bulldozed poor Lunchbox to attach yourself to me.”

I bit my lower lip, gifting Gray with my ridiculous beaver impersonation as I got out of bed and approached him.

“Sorry. I tend to be a little grabby in bed. You can always push me away.”

Instead of laughing at my goofy antics, his face went serious. The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I worried that I was about to witness him re-erect those brick walls around himself. Like maybe I’d only snuck into his castle for a short stay and was about to be sent off to the nearest trebuchet and launched into a field full of battle spikes.

Gray reached out and gripped my shoulder, tugging me closer. He cupped my jaw with both hands, sweeping his thumbs across my lips.

“I usually like my space.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry. Really. Obviously, I’ll be going back to the guest room tonight, but?—”

He shook his head and wrapped his hands around my waist. “Will you shut up?”

The amused way he said it, with the tiniest uptick of his lips and a theatrical raise of a single eyebrow gave me pause.

“Okay . . .”

“That was not a complaint. When I got up to take care of the dogs, I figured I’d read something since I usually can’t get back to sleep. But when I got back into bed, I was accosted by a sleepy millionaire.”

Before I could apologize again, he kept talking. “You were like a weighted blanket, and I knocked right out.”

“You did?”

“I did. I thought you were a morning person, but I was wrong.”

“Well . . .” I grimaced.

“What?” he asked, thumbing my hip.

“I get up early when I’m alone because my brain just turns on. But sleeping with someone kinda allows my brain to stand down.”

Gray leaned in, tonguing the divot at the base of my neck. “So, what you’re saying is that I’ll get more sleep if I keep you in my bed?”

I inhaled sharply, bringing my hand to the back of his head, burying my fingers in his thick hair as he sucked and licked the sensitive skin.

“Seems like a reasonable arrangement to me.”

He hummed as he worked his way up the column of my neck. “It’s a good thing I’ve got second shift today, or I’d have been late for work, and it would've been entirely your fault.”

I matched his raised eyebrow, wiggling my hips, entirely proud of myself. “Sure, blame the millionaire for all your problems.”

He barked out a laugh. “Nothing says narcissist like a self-referential millionaire.”

I flushed. “I swear, I only do that as a joke. I never mean it?—”

He cut me off with a kiss. It was soft, not deep or searching like the one from before. Just . . . soft.

“I’ve got to brush my teeth,” I said, angling for the door. “You too.”

He chuckled as I left his room and slipped into the guest room. Holy shit. Serious Gray was super sexy—there was no denying that. But flirty, morning-after Gray? That’s the kind of thing that could get a man into trouble.

I grabbed a change of clothes, brushed my teeth, took a shower, and got dressed. By the time I strolled into the kitchen, coffee was percolating, and bacon was frying.

“You know, Gray, given the state of your refrigerator before, I wasn’t sure you knew how to cook for yourself.”

He shook his head. “I like to cook, but sometimes for one person . . . it just feels excessive.”

“Deeply familiar with that emotion,” I said, coming up behind him. I liked that we were about the same height; it meant that when I hugged him, we fit perfectly. He took a deep breath, one hand going to the arm I’d banded around him while the other continued moving the bacon around in the cast iron.

“You are a wonder,” I said, kissing the sensitive bit of skin behind his ear.

Gray stiffened and looked over his shoulder at me, his expression quizzical. I wrinkled my nose at him.

“C’mon. Yesterday you said that you let people see who you are, but you hafta know that this version of you is completely different from the guy I met a few days ago. Not to mention a completely different version of what everybody else gets.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, but I didn’t buy it for a second. “Sex lowers my inhibitions.”

“Then we should keep on having sex, because I like this version of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” I said, sneaking in another kiss to the soft skin near his ear. “To be clear, the other version, the one who walks around like you’ve got a stick up your ass, is kind of sexy too.”

Shaking his head, Gray faced forward again and continued flipping the bacon. “You act like you don’t have a public and a private persona.”

I kissed his ear. “True.”

Gray tightened his grip on my arm. “I like the side that you’re showing me, too. I like that you embrace your shadow side, even only privately.”

“Said the king of embracing his shadow side.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I can tend toward pessimism, but I’m aware of it. Pessimism has helped me save more than one fellow pilot’s life,” he said, angling a brow at me before grabbing the eggs. “Even though I do understand that as a life philosophy, it can be off-putting.”

I watched him crack an egg one-handed and lay it into the grease like a pro.

“Just initially,” I said with a grin, then tightened my hug around him. “I think most people like that you don’t pretend to be happy when you’re not.”

We didn’t say anything for a few minutes as he added more eggs to the pan and cooked them until the yolks were the perfect consistency.

I stepped back and let him plate everything, then we sat in his breakfast nook.

“This is so damn good,” I said, grateful that he had also toasted and buttered the bread. “Shocked to see that you’ve purchased a Christmas-themed jam,” I said of the pineapple cut glass jar with the festive label.

“I like to support local businesses,” he said, adorably defensive.

“That’s why I’ve been looking for a smaller place as well. In Chicago, everything is just a little too . . . Chicago . And I like the idea of being part of a community. At least, I think I would.”

“The community would love to have you in it,” Gray said, stitching his brows as he shoveled a bite of egg into his mouth.

I tilted my head, watching him eat, unsure how to square his compliment with the serious expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I crunched on a bite of bacon. “I can’t tell if I’ve put you in a bad mood.”

His eyes widened and he immediately shook his head. “We were talking about authenticity, basically, and I was putting that together with the fact that you don’t really like Christmas.”

“Yeah . . .”

He lifted a shoulder. “I was just thinking that it was a shame that you lost something you’d seemed to enjoy.”

I shouldn’t be so thrilled that Gray had been paying attention, but I was. He’d not only remembered, but it bothered him.

“I know my mother would hate that our favorite holiday was ruined by her death. But . . . I just don’t know where to begin with it, you know? It all just seems a little too much. Too many lights, too many people, too much pressure to get the gifts right. Too many ways to fail at something that should be joyous.”

Gray swallowed his bite and nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that. But in a way, you’ve already started.”

“I have?”

“Even though we had to get you to a less crowded spot, you seemed to enjoy the Christmas tree, and the kids who were eating candy canes.”

I couldn’t help my smile, remembering the little girl who went up to him. Jilly .

“That’s true. I did enjoy myself despite the crowds.”

“And you seemed to think all the Christmas names for the streets and shops were pretty funny.”

I pulled a face as I cut into my eggs. “It’s really irritating that you’re making so many good points, all in a row like that.”

“My apologies,” he said, rather unapologetically. “You can keep on hating Christmas if you want.”

I stuck a bite of egg in my mouth and chewed, watching him. He seemed like a man on the edge of a suggestion, unsure if he should make it.

“Go ahead and say it,” I said, gesturing my fork at him.

He fussed with his last bit of bacon before popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly. After swallowing, he finally said, “Like I said—it’s a shame that someone who loved Christmas as much as you lost the magic of Christmas.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Did you just say, ‘the magic of Christmas’ Mr. Scrooge?”

Gray shook his head. “Scrooge was a selfish, unfeeling man. I’m not selfish. I just hate forced cheer.”

My grin broadened. “So naturally occurring cheer is okay for you?”

His eyes fell to my lips, and he nodded. “More than okay.”

That made me want to clear the table of all our things and have my way with him.

“You still look like you’re holding back,” I said, gesturing at his constipated look.

“I just . . .” He tapped the table. “All I’m saying is there are plenty of activities to do in the town that I don't hate, and that might help you to enjoy the holiday again.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Is the town grump really trying to convince me to love Christmas again?”

Gray shook his head. “You already know how much I value authenticity. And the guy who hates Christmas? That’s not you. Furthermore, it would be a damn shame for you to come to Christmas Falls and not fall in love with the holiday.”

“Furthermore?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Laughing, I stuck out my hand. “Okay, Mr. Frost. Deal. You can try to make me like Christmas again.”

He shook my hand firmly. “Just as long as you don't expect for me to do the same.”

This was just ridiculous enough that I had to try it.

“Let’s give it a shot.”