Home for Christmas: New Adult Holiday Dark Suspense Romance by Emme Rollins

over in her grave if I didn’t live up to my heritage some day by using that phrase. Am I right?”
    She laughed, curling her feet under her and digging into the bowl. The movie was long and they didn’t talk much, but their hands brushed every now and then, when they reached for more buttery goodness. Ginny found herself drifting again, lost in her memories of childhood Christmases.
    “She’s happy with so little,” Nick murmured, startling her out of her reverie.
    “Who?” She looked thoughtfully at Donna Reed welcoming Jimmy Stewart “home” to a broken-down old house on their wedding night.
    “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I guess I’m just so used to dating women who want the big house and the expensive car and everything else that goes with it. It’s not who a guy is, anymore—it’s what he does, and more importantly, how much money he makes doing it.”
    “No,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “All of that... it’s just stuff. Sure, it’s nice, but it’s really not what matters.”
    He leaned his head back on the couch, eyes searching her face. “You’re really something, you know that?”
    She shrugged. “I’m nothing special.”
    “No, you’re wrong.” His voice changed, growing firmer. “And I wish more people in your life had told you so.”
    “I’ve got enough people in my life telling me I’m wrong, thank you very much.”
    He smiled, reaching out to touch her bruised cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “You know what I mean.”
    She glanced from him to the screen. His eyes were soft when they met hers, questioning even. They made her feel warm all over. He turned slightly toward her, and the light of the television glinted off his badge. Her eyes lingered there, then moved up to his face again. With her associations, it was hard for her to reconcile the two. Yet here he was, wearing the same uniform and yet so very different from Brody. So different from his own father.
    “The thing about her is...” Ginny’s gaze flicked from him to the television. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”
    “You think so?” His thumb moved over her jaw.
    “Yes,” she insisted, although her eyes were on him now, not on the couple on the screen. “There aren’t many men who would offer a girl the moon.”
    Nick surprised her by doing a Jimmy Stewart impression, stutter and all. “What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”
    “I’ll take it,” Ginny quoted, smiling at him.
    “I wish I could give it to you.”
    She held her breath as he leaned forward, brushing the hair away from her face so his lips could touch her forehead. Everything inside of her went silent.
    “You’re very sweet.” She wasn’t surprised to hear her voice trembling and slightly hoarse.
    “Are you done with this?” he asked, breaking the mood and nodding at the popcorn bowl. He set it aside when she didn’t reply. Putting his arm across the back of the couch behind her, he settled back again to watch the movie.
    By the time George Bailey was delivering his own line about moons and lassos, Nick’s arm was around her shoulder, and Ginny’s head was resting against his chest. It seemed natural and easy.
    She didn’t know if it was the amount of food her body wasn’t used to digesting, or just the overwhelming weariness, but she found herself relaxed enough to even start drifting off to sleep in his arms.
    “Come on,” he said, nudging her.
    “But Clarence hasn’t gotten his wings yet...” She protested, blinking at the screen.
    “I’m sorry, but you aren’t going to make it, angel.” He smiled.
    Her body knew he was right and she followed him, already anticipating the extravagant comfort of a bed for the first time in weeks. It was a full-sized bed, nothing fancy, plain white sheets and a plaid comforter—a man’s decorating taste.
    He pulled the covers down for her. “You know