Page 55 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
“Fuck, Holly.” He leans his forehead against mine. “You’re worth it. I knew it weeks ago. I know it now. That’s not going to change.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on for dear life. “You know this was very grinch-like of you.”
“Hitting Santa?”
“No,” I pull my head back and ghost my lips over his. “Your heart growing three sizes.” I brush my lips over his ear. “Anything else growing?”
“Don’t do that,” he groans as he flares between us.
“Do what?” I play dumb.
“Make me laugh when I’m hanging on by a fucking thread.” A thousand things flash behind his eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn him as I try to guess at his emotions.
He runs a thumb over my lower lip. “How should I look at you, vixen? Tell me, and I’ll try.”
I don’t have an answer, just my racing pulse and my pounding heart.
“Cam.” The door swings open, and Emmie steps inside. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he groans, and Hadley pushes in past Emmie.
“Good. We fired Santa, and Joe, the head elf by night slash Kroydon Hills PD by day, has told Santa not to leave town. He wants to know if you want to press charges.”
Rainey moves around them. “You don’t need to decide tonight.”
Maverick walks over, and Sophie reaches out for her daddy, who gathers her to his chest.
“Thanks, man,” Camden tells him, and Rosie bounces on her toes.
“Can we go see the reindeer now?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Mav takes Rosie’s hand and wraps an arm around Emmie. “We’ll see you guys out there.”
Camden nods.
“Come on, Hades. Let’s give them a minute,” Rainey tells Hadley. “Find me before you leave, Holls.”
“I will,” I promise and run a hand over Sophie’s back. “You ready to get out of here?”
He nods.
“Promise not to hit any more holiday icons, okay?” I tease.
His mouth curves. “Come on... Can I negotiate a leprechaun? Pretty sure they’re evil.”
“Nope.” I link my fingers through his.
“Cupid?”
“Absolutely not. How would the world fall in love?” I gasp.
“I can think of a few ways,” he tells me far too seriously as he drops my hand and opens the door for me. “But for the record, I’d kick all they’re asses for you.”
“For the record,”—I step back outside, a cold gust of air rushing over us as snow flurries dot the sky—“I know.”
CAMDEN
