Vicki Lewis Thompson: A Last Chance Christmas

“I’ll remember that. Actually, I was about to head downstairs. Sarah and Pete invited me to have a drink with them before dinner.”

“Oh! Is it happy hour already?” Whenever she became involved in a genealogy project, she lost track of time.

“Almost six.”

“Then I’ll turn off my computer. Last night Sarah had to come upstairs to get me or I would have worked through the whole evening. I’d have hated that because I love hanging out with her and Pete. I’ll see you down there, then.” She turned to leave.

“I can wait until you shut off your computer.”

Thank God she wasn’t facing him, because she wouldn’t have wanted him to see her reaction to that comment. For sure, her eyes and mouth had popped wide open exactly the way a cartoon character would look when startled. “Um, sure, that would be great. I’ll just be a sec. Meet you at the top of the stairs.” And she skedaddled out of there.

As she hurried down the hall, she calculated how much repair work she could get away with. Changing clothes was out, so she was stuck with the blah jeans and her old green turtleneck. If she had time to pop in her contacts, Ben might notice that the sweater nearly matched her eyes, but she didn’t so he wouldn’t.

The best she could hope for was a quick brush through her hair, a fast polish of her lenses and a glance in the bathroom mirror to make sure she didn’t have food in her teeth. Refreshing her makeup would take too long, and besides, he’d already seen her like this. If she showed up with lipstick and blusher, that might telegraph her interest in him.

But, truly, she might as well forget about having any interest in him. It didn’t matter how yummy he looked, or how much she loved his harmonica music, or how talented his mouth might be as a result of playing said harmonica. She was leaving in four days and didn’t expect to be back in Wyoming any time soon.

She should forget about Ben, whose last name she still didn’t know. It wasn’t like she was thirsting for male companionship. For example, there was Dennis, the new guy in the history department. He was cute in a nerdy kind of way, and he’d seemed quite fascinated by her when they’d talked during the faculty Christmas party. He’d promised to call after the holidays.

So, there. She had a potential boyfriend and a potential relationship waiting to be cultivated back home. No need to get starry-eyed over some horse-buying, harmonica-playing cowboy who had his feet firmly planted in Wyoming.

Then she walked out of her room and saw those booted feet braced slightly apart as Ben waited for her at the top of the stairs. Oh, Lordy. She’d never looked at a man and instantly fallen into lust. Well, except for unattainable movie stars.

But it was happening this very minute. He’d been impressive sitting on the bed. Standing upright in all his six-foot-plus glory, he made her forget her own name, let alone the name of that guy in the history department.

Then he smiled at her and her knees actually weakened. She’d thought that was a stupid cliché, but apparently not. When she went back for second semester, she’d get one of her friends in the biology department to explain how a brilliant smile from a handsome man could adversely affect a woman’s tendons, ligaments, joints and kneecaps.

She hoped she didn’t wobble like a Weeble as she joined him at the top landing. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“No problem. By the way, I never introduced myself. I’m Ben Radcliffe.”

“I know. I mean, I knew about the Ben part but I’d forgotten your last name.” If she’d known he was a walking female fantasy, she would have paid more attention when Sarah mentioned it.

“Okay, now that we have that out of the way, we can—whoops. Hold still for a minute.” He leaned toward her.

Her heart leaped into high gear as he reached a hand toward her hair. She’d been told it was her best feature because it was so many rich shades of brown. Maybe he couldn’t resist running his fingers through it. That would be a good start.

Then, after he’d buried his fingers in her hair, he could lean even closer and kiss her. Maybe she should take off her glasses to make that maneuver easier, but he’d told her to hold still. She’d have to move a little, though, because he was almost a foot taller than she was. She’d have to stand on tiptoe for a proper kiss.

As his fingers made contact, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally. That sure wasn’t working. Finally she gulped in some air so she wouldn’t pass out and tumble down the curved staircase.

“There you go.”

She opened her eyes to discover a piece of dental floss dangling in front of her face.

“It was in your hair.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks hot, she grabbed the floss and rubbed it between her palms until it was a tiny ball. Then she shoved it in the pocket of her jeans. “Thanks. That’s what I get for rushing.” She couldn’t make herself look at him.

“You have great hair.”

That brought her head up. She gazed into his warm brown eyes and said the first thing that popped into her head. “So do you.”

“Thank you.” The crinkles reappeared at the corners of his eyes because he was smiling again. “I got teased about it as a kid. I guess I looked too girly.”

Not anymore. “What do kids know?”

“Not just kids. My dad, too.”

“Oh.” That made her heart hurt. “Guess you proved him wrong, huh?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I did or not. We’re not that close, anyway.”

“Well, that’s...” She stopped herself before saying it was too bad. She knew nothing about him, really, or about his family. For him, distance from his father might be a good thing. “That’s the way it happens sometimes.” She’d honor his obvious wish to make light of what, for her, would be a devastating situation. She couldn’t imagine not being close to either of her parents.

“Yep, sure does. Ready?”

“You tell me. I was prepared to walk downstairs wearing dental floss. Do I pass inspection?”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t know if you do or not. Back up and do a slow turn for me.”

She followed his instructions, although she didn’t kid herself that he had ulterior motives for the request. There wasn’t much to see because she’d always been slender, not curvy. If she’d been taller, instead of only five-four, she could have been a runway model.

But not really. The idea had been an obsession of hers as a preteen, when her egghead status had made her feel uncool. A career as a high-fashion model would have soothed her ego. But she’d abandoned that plan when she’d realized, first, she’d never grow tall enough, and second, she’d only be modeling to improve her social standing, which was a dumb reason to get into any line of work.

So, instead, she’d embraced her brainy side, especially her passion for details, specifically historical details. Teaching history during the day and studying genealogy in her spare time made her incredibly happy. In her chosen profession, being an egghead was a good thing.

She finished her circle and glanced up at him. “Okay?”

“Perfect.”

Of course he didn’t mean that literally, but she couldn’t help the squiggle of happiness that danced through her. When a man who looked like Ben declared that she was perfect, she’d take it with a grain of salt, but she’d take it. “Then let’s go down.”

“Now I’m not sure if I pass inspection or not.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “You’re perfect, too.” That was the main problem with him, in fact. If she were to design her ideal man, he would look exactly like Ben. She just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be the guy who would haunt her dreams once she left Wyoming.