Page 10 of Mistletoe Kisses

I won’t survive if one of my parents pulls me aside to tell me not to flirt with their friend.

“Yeah,” I whisper with a swift nod. Cheeks feeling hot, I swipe another cookie and shove it inside my mouth before I go saying anything else. “We should go to bed. They’re going to be expecting a lot from us in the morning.”

The tree is getting delivered, my mother wants to make more batches of cookies. Literal chaos.

He pulls his eyes away and nods. “You first. I’ll head that way in a minute.”

I don’t put up a fight. Not after this last embarrassing exchange. I might’ve as well told him that everything about him is my type.

Now that I want to die a little, I’m not so sure I’m going to be able to sleep a wink.

* * *

For old-time memory sake, my parents insisted on waiting to put up all the decorations until the arrival of the tree. In truth, I think they were just waiting for me to come home. It was one of those things we always did together. Sure, there might be a small Santa statue already here and there, but that’s all there is to it.

My mother wants to bake while we have fun and my father hates leaving her side. Mylo reassures them that I have all the help I need. They can catch up whilewedecorate. Maybe they wanted me to make up for all the time missed out while I was away.

I don’t trust myself enough to be near the man. My toes curl and my thighs press together every time he’s within my reach. If he knows how much of a weakness he is to me, then he must enjoy making me suffer.

He helps pull out the three totes from the basement, showing his bravery by swiping away any spiderwebs. As much as I want to put some distance between us, I know there’s no chance I’d survive seeing a spider.

Once we’re going through different ones, I watch as his nose scrunches at the number of figurines inside of one. He’s been to our home during the holidays in past years. He shouldn’t be too surprised.

“Why do they need all of this crap?” His question is soft with disbelief, mostly aimed at himself.

I crack a smile, unable to help myself. “You don’t have this many decorations?”

He flicks his eyes over in my direction and my stomach clenches when his mouth teases a smile of his own. “We had a reef to put on the front door and a tree with a few bulbs. Took five minutes to set up. This is going to take us all afternoon.”

I try to imagine him at his home, rushing through one of the best parts of the holidays. “I’ll do it all if you don’t want to. I must get my love for this through my parents.”

He turns down my offer and starts planting the figurines wherever he can in the most random of spots. I fight not to snort and opt to let him do as he pleases.

“What about you, do you have a godly amount of this stuff collected over the years?” He plucks up a statue of Mrs. Claus and takes in her worn details.

“I had a small tree, barely bigger than two feet.” I shrug a shoulder. “Takes decades to get a collection this great. I didn’t have much, rather, I didn’t have the room. Got rid of it once the holidays were over.”

“Well, if you stay here, in town I mean, you can find a bigger place. You could do whatever you wanted.” Laying down the suggestion with ease, he sets down the sleigh statue next to the Santa one. At least he got one set correct.

It’s going to take a lot of time to find a place big enough to call my dream home. Now, I’m probably going to get one of those apartments in the middle of town. It’ll be close enough to the diner, the one I’ll fill out an application for.

Thinking about the future is stressful, enough to leave me squeezing the poor tree skirt in my grip. I don’t realize how white my knuckles are until I feel warmth on my shoulder. Mylo is bringing me out of these thoughts, kneading my stiffness with his thumb.

“Talk to me if you want.” He’s got this concern behind his gaze, he’s worried about me. He doesn’t even try to hide it on his face.

My skin is prickling up from his touch and the only thing worse than thinking about the unknown is thinking about how much I want this man.

Instead of telling him the truth of everything on my mind, I swat my hand and pull away. The warm spot on my shoulder cools in a matter of seconds. He frowns when I brush his concern away with a pressed smile.

He doesn’t push, thank goodness. If he sat me down and demanded to know my secrets, I’d crack and crumble, telling him everything. All because it’s him demanding to know. Instead, he empties his tote by the time I make a dent in mine.

Mylo offers to help decorate the tree, but I insist that I can handle this bit all by myself. Even though this tree is the biggest I’ve seen in our home, and I’ll have to climb the stairs to make sure the top half is just as covered, I won’t ask. Even if he’s got an extra foot of height, that doesn’t matter.

The sugary scent of cookies fills the room thanks to my parent’s shared teamwork in getting plenty of sweets ready to hand off to all of the neighbors nearest to us.

Someone has music playing, the soft classical jingle making the room feel that much warmer.

My skin is prickling up beneath the sleeves of my sweater, but I can’t tell if the temperature of the room is responsible.

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