Page 27 of Decked Out with Ivy

“I had no idea there was such an art to this,” he said.

“There’s an art to everything.”

Once finished, Ivy clapped her hands and spun toward the boxes. “Time for ornaments.” She held her finger up and glanced around. “Not yet.” She lifted the top of the trunk that was repurposed into a coffee table and retrieved a blanket. She draped it in front of the tree. “Now we’re ready.”

“What’s with the blanket?”

“In case we drop ornaments. They hit the wood floor and shatter on impact. The blanket will reduce impact and hopefully keep them intact.”

“Have you broken a lot of ornaments?”

“When I was younger, I dropped my mom’s favorite ornament. It was an accident, and she knew that. Assured me it was okay, but I knew she was devastated. My dad tried to fix it, but it was in a hundred tiny pieces. I felt so bad. I locked myself in my room and cried.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. Then when I was sixteen, I found the exact same ornament on eBay and gave it to her that Christmas. She was so happy. Now she’s the only one allowed to touch it.”

“Why don’t you tell me what ornaments aren’t breakable and let me hang those? I don’t want to risk breaking a family heirloom.”

She tapped her chin and stared at the boxes. “That one.” She pointed to a Norman Rockwell popcorn tin that she turned into ornament storage. It held all the filler ornaments. “You can break all of those, and I wouldn’t bat an eye. But… try not to. I don’t feel like going into the cold to replace them.”

“I will handle them as if they were one of your most treasured decorations.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed the clear glass ball filled with sand and beach glass she got on a summer girls' trip to Willow Cove, Maine, when she was in college. Lifting on her toes, she placed it, then moved onto the next, recalling the memories that came with each ornament.

Chuck Berry’sRun Run Rudolphrang through the radio, and Ivy’s head bopped with the beat. She hummed the lyrics, even though she wanted to belt them at the top of her lungs. If Poppy was there, that’s exactly what she would do. But she didn’t want to scare Cody off before she could open his eyes to the joys of the season, and her voice was definitely not it.

Her foot tapped in beat with her head, then her hips moved on their own accord. She couldn’t help it. Christmas music had that effect on her.

A strong hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him. His hips moved with hers before he twirled her around. He maneuvered them away from the blanket and the tree. A laugh bubbled up and burst out.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“If you can’t tell this is dancing, then I have more problems than I realized.” He spun her around and tugged her into him.

“You’re pretty good at this.”

“Ronnie made me take dancing lessons. She thought it would help pad my resume.”

“Did it work?”

“I have yet to put the skill to good use.” He dipped her, and she laughed harder, but as she came up, their eyes locked. The music seemed to fade into the distance, and all she could hear was the erratic beat of her heart.

“There are no cameras here,” she said as his head angled toward her.

The air evaporated, making it hard to breathe as his lips hovered mere inches from hers. “I know.”

She wanted to say screw it and smash her lips to his, find out what it was like to kiss him without having to put on a show, but this was Cody Chance, big Hollywood actor, and she was just a small-town girl. Their backstories sold headlines, but in reality, their stories didn’t mesh. “Maybe we should stick to the script.”

He cupped her cheek, his thumb running across the sensitive skin of her jaw. “But the real fun, the time the scene comes alive is, when you improv.”

“Who are we improving for? Again, no cameras.”

“Good, because then I couldn’t do this.” He crashed his lips to hers. A surprised squeak slipped from her mouth butwas muffled by his lips. An unexpected surge of desire rushed through her as she parted to let his tongue in.

Her hands went to his head, fingers diving into the strands of brown hair, gripping and tugging as the kiss went from hot to explosive. Every reason why this was a bad idea drifted off with the crooning notes of Frank Sinatra’s rendition ofI’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm.

He backed her up until her body was pressed against the wall. His big warm chest, flush to hers, his lips still devouring her with a fierceness she’d never experienced.

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