Page 51 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
“Not really. I was thinking I could take Sophie to the vineyard for pictures with Santa,” I admit hesitantly. Unsure whether he’d want to come or not. Hoping maybe he will.
“Don’t babies usually cry when they see Santa?” He grins, softening his words, and I shake my head and cross the room, stopping next to them.
“It’s a rite of passage, Grinch,” I tease. “Plus, you won’t have to wait in line.” I wink. “I’ve got an in with the owner.”
“Oh yeah?” He motions for me to come closer. “Would I have to do any special favors to take advantage of your in?”
My mind runs wild with all the ways Camden Monroe can take advantage of me.
“I can think of a few things.” I press my lips to his and lift Sophie from his arms. “How about I get this little sugar plum fed and dressed and you let me know if you want to come with us?”
“I’ll go,” he offers as he stands, and I arch a brow. “What? I’m off for the weekend, and I don’t hate Christmas.”
“Your defense is lacking, Grinch.”
Camden pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to the top of my head, and oh my... there’s something so intimate about the gesture.
“Whatever you say, vixen. But if you and Sophie are going, I’m coming with. Somebody has to protect my girls.”
I suck in a silent breath.
His girls.
We went there fast.
But I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.
It might just be the exact thing I was hoping for, after all.
HOLLY
Relationships are like Christmas lights. They take patience, half of them don’t work, and they all end up in a tangled mess. But untangling them can be so much fun.
—Holly’s Secret Thoughts
I’m certain my entire family knows Cherry Creek at Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and as we pull into the parking lot that afternoon, I’m reminded of why. Wreaths studded with ruby-red berries loop every single one of the old-fashion lamp posts my father brought a few years ago. Red ribbons flutter in the breath-fogging air. Icicles fringe the tasting-room roofline like spun-glass ornaments hanging from a Christmas tree.
And the courtyard—the courtyard is perfection, like a snow globe mid-shake, with carolers singing and the cocoa cartsteaming like the Polar Express about to leave for the North Pole.
“This place was my mom’s pride and joy before she died,” I whisper to Camden, feeling nostalgic. “Every detail was her brainchild, and she was adamant they all be perfect.”
“It’s pretty amazing,” he agrees, a step behind me, his broad shoulders testing the limits of his wool coat and Sophie tucked into the crook of his arm without a care in the world. The pink knitted hat sits crooked on her head, even if Camden keeps trying to adjust it, determined to win an apparently serious battle with the tiny pom-pom on top.
My grinch’s eyes snag mine, a question lingering there.
You good? silently passes between us, and that one small look makes everything easier.
Sometimes being here without mom still hurts, but right now, I can’t help but think how much she’d have loved Camden and Sophie.
I chew my bottom lip and smile. My silent answer sitting somewhere betweenI’m goodandI’m good for now.
“Do they have any allergy-friendly drinks?” Rosie turns to ask from in front of us.
“Oh, honey, I doubt—” Emmie starts to let Camden’s niece down sweetly, but I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“They don’t have anything out here, but... Do you see that big house over there? The one with the Petal & Vine sign?” I motion to the bed and breakfast my sister runs. “I called earlier and asked if she had anything for you, and she was more than happy to make sure they do. And the best part is that kitchen is allergy-free because my sister is allergic to a ton of things.”
“Like me?” Rosie asks as Emmie and Maverick smile at me.
