Page 33 of Christmas Coffee

I hold up his phone. “Yup, this looks like yours.”

“These all look alike.” Celyn shrugs. “I’m just glad you have it.”

I rise and hand it to him. We swap phones. Wearily, I glance at the sky as it transitions from blue and fills with streaks of orange and pink.

Celyn repeats his offer, “Come on. Let me buy you another burger. That kind of bad bird luck needs to be rewarded.”

I smirk and finally agree. Ten minutes later, we’re back outside. I have a new tiny bag with one burger inside. I wouldn’t let him buy me more than that. I unwrap my new, steaming dinner, and sit on the hood of my car intending to take a bite when I shriek and bounce off the hood. It’s so cold that it stung. I hop around for a second, trying to walk off the frigid cold that bit my backside.

Celyn chuckles. “Is the hood still hot?”

“Nope.” I shake my head and grit my teeth. “It’s nearly frozen.”

He places his hand on the hood and flinches. “Maybe I should add something to the bottom of that uniform?” He’s serious and glances at me.

I shake my head. “If you require long underwear beneath this atrocity, I’ll quit. I can’t handle more than this. No one can.” I’m half kidding, half serious. I point to my chest with my burger and lift it to my mouth to take a bite.

That’s when bird number three makes his appearance. He dive-bombs me, claws outstretched for my dinner, and one taloned foot goes right into my mouth. I’m mid-bite when I realize what’s happened. I chomp down on its bony leg and the acidic taste of bird foot mingles with the burger. It happens in a fraction of a second. His wings beat either side of my face before I have a chance to scream. My mouth flies open in a horrified screech. As he pulls his foot out of my mouth, his talon scrapes my bottom lip. A coppery taste coats my tongue. Mortified, I frantically look around for the rest of my coke and use at as mouthwash, spitting it onto the ground. But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

Wide-eyed I glance over at Celyn. His face is blank but his eyebrows are rising under the sweep of hair across his forehead.

I raise my hand and hold up three fingers. “I told you. Three’s my lucky number.” A smile cracks my petrified face and I start laughing. It’s not until that moment, that I see a small crowd standing behind Celyn. The chuckles finally roll through them too, and when they see the shows over, they start toward their cars, much more cautious of the food in their arms.

Celyn’s dimple shows when he smiles this time. He tucks his chin and rests his hands on my shoulders. “I have never seen anything like that in my entire life—well, expect for a second ago. Birds really, really don’t like you.” The way he says it, so straight-faced, and deadpan makes me laugh so hard that I can barely stand upright.

After a moment of uncontrolled laughter from both of us, I look up at him, gazing at that beautiful face and he stills. His eyes lock onto my mouth. He takes a step closer, his gaze not straying from my lips. There’s a tightening sensation in my chest that sends a flutter through me. It ripples under my skin, starting in my heart and pulsing into my fingertips. That pull is there again, urging me to step closer, to close the distance between us. I watch his hooded eyes, the way those dark lashes linger on my lips. Longing for something more, something I can’t quite put my finger on. With Celyn, I wanted a fling but if time has shown me anything it’s that a night with this man isn’t something I’d get over quickly—or ever. As it is, the memory of his kiss still lingers like a dream cut short.

An ocean of silence spans between us. When those blue eyes meet mine, he tips his head toward his car. “I have a first aid kit. You should probably put something on that cut.”

Right. The copper tang. I’m bleeding. I press a finger to my lip and wince. It’s a bit swollen and slick with fresh blood. The cut isn’t too deep. I look at my fingers and see the shiny red pads. “Good plan. No amount of coke can get the taste of that bird’s foot out of my mouth. I’m going to get some weird form of bird rabies.”

Celyn chortles as I follow him to his car. He pops the trunk and pulls out the little first aid kit. He hands me some antiseptic and a bit of gauze. I use his side mirror to apply it and dab at it with the piece of mesh fabric. The cut is better than I thought. Most of the damage is on the inside of the lip. As I dab, I joke, “Well at least I wasn’t marred for life.”

“Assuming the bird cooties don’t come later.” He’s standing behind me, arms folded over his sweatered chest. The deadpan tone of his voice sounds completely serious. “You never know with birds.”

In a mocking tone, I answer, “Har, har. But seriously, if I grow a monkey tail and fly off to be with some witch, please shoot me. I can’t trade in one costume for another. The tiny hat and the vest would be so much worse than this.” I jab my thumb at the dirndl top I’m wearing.

Celyn snorts and I catch a glimpse of his crooked grin in my mirror. After a moment, I think I’ve got ointment on the entire wound. I’m not sure if putting it on the inside of my lip was necessary, but I did learn that there are things that taste worse than chewed aspirin.

When I turn to thank him, it looks like he wants to say something.

When he doesn’t, I cut my eyes to the side and offer, “Well, this has been something.”

“Yes, it has.” He runs his hand over the top of his head and down his neck, holding it there for a moment. “Are you all right? I need to get back to the hut. I left Shannon there alone.”

I make a face, surprised he’d leave the guy there. “By all means, go. He probably wandered off already.”

Celyn laughs softly. “Probably. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The way he says it sounds like a question.

So I nod and answer, “Yup and every day after that.” Our eyes meet and there’s a softness in his eyes, something that wasn’t there most of today. I can’t recognize the emotion, but it makes me squirm.

Celyn runs his hand through his hair, his mouth opens, and he starts, “Right, about that—”

I don’t know what he’s going to say but the tension between us is growing and something tells me to cut him off. A premonition tells me it’s bad news and I can’t let him finish what he’s trying to say. “See you tomorrow, Andy.”

Celyn’s shoulders tighten and he corrects, “Celyn. It’s Celyn.”