Page 33 of Mistletoe Misses
Was that a joke? Jealous over how effortlessly Jada uncovered his playful side, I fight the urge to sulk outwardly. Inside, I’m throwing a bratty toddler tantrum.
Maddox’s eyes cut my way before ruffling the boy’s matching light brown hair. “There’s not much to it, but I’d be happy to pass along what I’ve learned over the years. Sign him up, and I’ll be there to help.”
“That’s so kind of you. Thank you, Maddox.”
We both admire the view as he walks across the street, ignoring our awkward presence together.
“I’m sorry, Carmen,” she says, putting on an innocent smile. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or if she’s showing off for securing private time with Maddox in front of me. Either way, jealousy continues to pierce through me with the force of shooting arrows. “Did you need something?”
Maddox. I need Maddox in my life again, any way I can get him. There it is. No more denying it.
“I was …” Thinking fast, I shake the box I carried over. “Hoping for help with this. Hanging decorative garland on a light pole is a two-person job.”
“How about two and a half? Easton is a great assistant.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 8
Maddox
From climbing up and down a ladder countless times over four hours, hanging lights over a street, of all things, my legs and back are still sore two days later.
As I sand the drywall patches at turtle speed, feeling every muscle scream in protest, the front door of Sadie and Carmen’s apartment opens and shuts. I check my watch, trying to figure out which one of them it might be when Sadie appears in the doorframe.
Her hair, the color of sunshine, is tied back with a white ribbon to match her snow boots and sweatshirt beneath a pink jacket. A matching blue, pink, and white plaid backpack scrapes the floor as she crosses to me.
“Hi, sweetie.” She rests an elbow on my shoulder, her pleasant smile dissolving any residual aches.
“Hi, yourself. On your way to school?”
“Yep. What are you doing?”
“Fixing the holes in the wall so I can paint.”
“I wish I could help today.” Her bottom lip pokes out in a slight pout. “Painting sounds way more fun than math and science.”
“Agreed.”
“What about after school?” she asks.
“I’ll save a wall for you. Which one do you want?”
Her arm stays connected to me as she decides. She points toward the kitchen. “The one under the bar. I can reach all of that one.”
“Smart choice. That’s why you’re the queen.”
A flash of sweetness beams in her cheeks before she skips out. Alone again, I get back to work, grateful to have something to look forward to later.
Her thick boots, pounding on the unfinished steps as she runs back up, echo across the hall. “I’m back.”
“Thank goodness. I missed you.”
“I was only gone a minute.” Her hand finds my shoulder again, and I love that about her. Affection and acceptance flow freely from her, making it easy to reciprocate.
“It felt like all day.”
“You’re silly.”
