Page 24 of Baby, It’s Hot Inside

Watching her scurry back to the kitchen, I find myself smiling. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, a genuine grin pulls at my lips. Annie is so damn pretty. So damn sweet. So damn good.

Just like that, my smile is gone. Because, yes, she is pretty and sweet and good.

And there’s no room for any of that in my life. No, that’s not right, there’s no room for someone like me in her life. Someone broken and scarred. I don’t know if there ever will be. If I’ll ever feel whole again. If I’ll ever be able to do right by a woman like Annie.

chapter fourteen

Annie

Today has been weird. I mean it's Thanksgiving. All family-oriented holidays come with a certain amount of weirdness. Toss into the mix that my parents--I'm an only child--are currently on a six-week Mediterranean cruise. So I was perfectly content to do my own thing at home.

Eat too many bags of microwave popcorn while binge-watching Star Trek and snuggling with my cat, Winnie. But Ginger would have none of that. Also Ginger's mom. They're my surrogate family, so here I am, an honorary Starr family member during the holiday that is all about food.

Here's the thing, I love food. Like seriously love to eat. And yeah, my adoration of carbs and sugary treats has given me some significant junk in my trunk, but I'm okay with that. I look like I enjoy my life and I do, and I’m okay with that.

But it's hard to really dive into the food when someone's eyes are on you constantly. Okay, I haven't actually seen him looking at me, but I can still feel his gaze nonetheless. It's weird. And disconcerting. My skin feels hot and prickly like every sensation is just a little too much.

Is he just amazed that I can eat like one of those giant-mouthed whales that swims through the ocean, mouth opened and scooping up all the edible goodness? Wait, are those whales or sharks? Focus, Annie.

Is that what I look like? I'm not one to be self-conscious. If a man can't deal with the fact that I like food, then he can fuck off. I'm never gonna be one of those women who only eats lettuce and a single bite of pie.

Seriously, a single bite of pie? What is that?

But I digress. The point is, I'm feeling watched. Kris isn't directly across from me, that is Holly's--the eldest Starr child--husband, Mike. He's a talker, that Mike. Always chatting about something and frankly I'm not sure anyone has a clue what the hell he's even saying.

The meal is mostly done and people are just sorta picking at the remnants on their plate while we do that thing everyone does on this holiday...wait to see if anyone is going to be brave enough to cut the first pie right after the big meal. Maybe I'll just take some pie to go. Go home and put on stretchy pants and a big sweatshirt sans bra.

I glance up and this time I do catch Kris looking at me. His blue-green eyes are so damn pretty. And he's got that square jaw with the cleft in his chin and the stubble from his morning shave. He's been out of the military long enough that his hair has started to grow out and it's a little shaggy. He's looking right at me so I just smile, then turn away trying to figure out how to make a quick exit.

Ginger and Brock are exchanging whispers and heated glances and I wonder how long it will be before they leave to go and get naked together. I'm so damn happy for her. For them. Seeing them fall in love has been like watching a romance novel. Still, I can’t help the pangs that come from being around them. Being their third wheel. I want what they have. I want a forever; my own family.

Finally, Holly stands to go and check on the baby and the rest of the table disperses. Once people have left this room, it'll be easier for me to make a getaway. It's not that I don't love the Starr family, I truly do. They've always loved me like I was one of their own. But being around Kris is distracting.

Eventually I'm able to say my goodbyes and head out to my car. But as I'm crossing the yard to the driveway I see a figure standing in the darkness looking up at the stars. It's Kris. I can tell from the broad expanse of his shoulders, the tightness in his form. I walk over and put my hand on his arm and he startles slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

He nods, then goes back to looking at the stars. "They look different here than they did over there."

I glance up. It’s one of those fall nights in Texas that's kinda cool and there's not a cloud in the sky. The stars are bright and plentiful.

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes. But only in that I don’t know how to do anything else. I’ve been a marine my entire adult life. In every other way, I’m glad I’m home.”

“So, why did you sneak out of there so quickly?” I ask.

One meaty shoulder lifts in a shrug. “They’ll start planning all the Christmas shenanigans in detail tonight. I just needed a break.”

“You’ve managed to hide your true Grinch nature before,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

He chuckles and the deep timbre of his laugh washes over me. Somehow the sound is both soothing and intimate. It feels special. Like something just for me. “You always could read me better than anyone.”

I shrug. “We were the odd men out. You, the Christmas hater in a family of Santa’s elves. And me, the token Jew.”

“I don’t hate Christmas.”

I turn and face him, my expression softening. “I know that. Just the rest of your family is a little over the top about it.”