Page 26 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

His deep laughter swirls through me as he clinks his glass against mine. “And toLove Actually. We wouldn’t be here without you.”

We both drink deeply while staring at each other, and I say a silent thank you to the movie makers behind my favourite rom-com. For bringing me solace in my time of need. And also, for bringing me…him.

CHAPTER 12

Noah

Emma cooked the turkey to perfection. But it may as well have been cold and rubbery, for all that I noticed. I’m too busy looking at her, drinking her in, to pay attention to anything else.

It’s a new feeling for me.

“Your pie was amazing.” Emma leans back in her chair and pats her flat stomach. Today she’s wearing a sundress, white with tropical palm trees printed on it. The dress has thin straps, is cinched in at the waist and flares to her knees. In it, she looks like a summer princess.

And I just want to kiss her.

“Feel like going for a walk?” I ask, needing to get some distance between us. We’ve spent two amazing hours eating and talking, the conversation flowing like we’ve been friends for years. And yet, throughout the meal, I kept losing my train of thought, getting lost in her lips, in the way she tucks her hair behind her small ears, in the way she laughs at my jokes. Even the unfunny ones.

“Sure,” she agrees easily, standing to clear the table.

I jump up. “Let me do that.”

She goes to argue, and I put a finger on her lips.Groan; they’re so soft.

“Where I come from, the cook doesn’t do the cleaning.”

She sits back down, rubbing her thumb along the lips I’d just been touching, her eyes glued to me as I take the dishes to the kitchen and start loading the dishwasher.

“You really don’t have to do that.” The space between her eyebrows is furrowed and I wonder at it. Emma seems like a person who likes to be in control—her house is so clean you could eat off the floor. Is this reluctance to let me help because of this?

“I just feel bad,” she fills in the blanks. “You’re my guest…”

“We’re friends now, Emma,” I tell her, while desperately wanting to be more. “And friends let their friends help.”

She chews on her lips—those lips!—and nods. “Fine. I’ll go and change my shoes for our walk.”

I watch her leave and lecture myself silently. I need to pull it together. That woman there was a stranger to me just yesterday. Granted, she was a stranger who I’d gotten to know through the wall, but still. These intense feelings I’m having for her have to be too much too soon.

Right?

“I’m ready.”

I turn to find her standing in front of the living room window, the light behind her giving her an ethereal glow. She’s so pretty. She should be on top of a cake. Or a Christmas tree.

“Let’s go.”

We meander away from our houses, our full bellies slowing us down, along with the hot afternoon sun. I’ll never get over a hot Christmas.

“What’s Christmas like for you at home?” Emma asks, reading my mind.

“Cold.” She laughs. “And most of the day is dark. The sun rises late and sets early, but it just means more time curled up together inside. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten used to being outside on Christmas Day. Going to the beach or having a BBQ. It’s weird.”

“And amazing.” Emma the Aussie isn’t giving in on this one without a fight. “For most of my childhood, we’d spend Christmas at our beach house. We’d drive up a few days before and spend hours playing in the ocean, reading and relaxing. So by the time Christmas rolled around, everyone had unwound. We were chilled and peaceful. Warm and tanned. Blissful.”

The picture she’s painting does sound pretty idyllic.

“And this year?” I’d wondered why she’s alone but hadn’t wanted to ask.

She gives a sad smile. “My parents went on a cruise to celebrate my dad finally retiring. He’d been resisting it for years until Mum put her foot down. His work ethic is next level. Part of us thought he’d never give it up.”

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