Holiday Serenade, The by Ava Miles

that her fear? That the fire would rage as hot and all–consuming as it had before, making her do things that were out of character, making her go a little crazy.
    “Good. I’d be upset if you had. And now we need to change the subject. My body is responding pretty typically to this line of talk.”
    She could tell it was, from the tense line of muscles showcased by his thermal shirt to the rigid line in the front of his jeans.
    Things unused to clenching in desire were moved as much by the words he’d used as the velvety voice in which he’d said them.
    The rose scent tickled her nose when she raised her cup to her mouth with both hands and took a sip of her tea. “Rhett, why can’t you understand? Getting rid of the poker babes isn’t going to make us a better match.”
    He sunk lower into the couch. “That’s not true anymore. All of the changes on the outside are meant to convince you that we are meant to be together. But you’re right. Deep down, the outer doesn’t matter diddly unless the inner is there. Wow! I almost sounded wise or something. I’ll have to tell my mama. She’ll be so proud.”
    Her raspberry blew out easily. “The inner isn’t enough.”
    “Bullshit,” he said, his voice no longer playful. “It’s all there is. We either love each other, or we don’t. And since we do, the rest is just window dressing. But you clearly don’t trust that.”
    “Rhett—”
    He leaned forward. “There’s no way you’ve stopped loving me. You couldn’t tell me that you didn’t love me when I arrived in July, and you can’t tell me now. If anything, you love me more. As I do you. Being this close to you has helped me notice a few things I missed in the past.”
    Her tea cup suddenly seemed too heavy, so she set it down on the coffee table. “And what’s that?”
    Those golden eyes seemed to burn into her.
    “I knew you were a wonderful mother, a loyal sister, and a kind person. I knew you were creative and passionate about what you do at Mac’s hotels and how detailed and organized you are about practically everything.”
    Yeah, he’d always seen the real her.
    He ran his hand through his hair and pursed his lip for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether to speak. “And I also knew that you made nearly every decision in your life based on fear.”
    She inhaled sharply at his accusation. Okay, that hurt. And it so wasn’t true. Firming her shoulders, she prepared to give him a piece of her mind.
    He held up his hand, stopping her.
    “Give me a second to explain,” he said. “I understand that fear better after you told me about Dustin’s father.”
    Right. The rich college kid who had date raped her and then suggested that the baby she’d conceived wasn’t his, that she’d lied about the whole thing.
    Rhett set his cup aside, his eyes beseeching. “You’re terrified someone might learn about what happened to you and think you’re a victim. You’re also mortally afraid of what Dustin might think—totally understandable—and have chosen to protect him in ways I could never begin to understand. What I haven’t figured out is the root cause of all your fear, because it’s not just that. Once I do, I want to help you move forward and live from a place of happiness. I want that for you, Abbie.”
    Confusion rained down on her like cold, icy sleet, making her shiver. This could not be borne. She shot to her feet. “I do live from a place of happiness,” she shot back, and then her breathing shattered, the asthma attack coming on so suddenly it blindsided her.
    Rhett’s eyes widened for a moment before he raced out of the room. She stood up, fighting for oxygen, clawing at her throat.
    She couldn’t breathe.
    God, please let her breathe.
    When he ran back to her, her over–sized purse in his hands, he dumped its contents on the rug and sorted through it until he found her rescue inhaler. Then he pressed it to her mouth. Her hands clamped around his as she took that first