Page 37 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
I laugh darkly again. “You have no idea how straight I’m thinking right now.”
I’m not sure who moves first.
Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s something else.
The world narrows until all I see is her mouth, soft and pink and trembling as I cup her face in my hands.
And that’s when the baby monitor I hadn’t noticed before crackles to life. Sophie’s sleepy sob slicing through the moment like the blade of a sharp knife.
Holly jerks back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.
Fucking gorgeous.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to pull the air back into my lungs.
“I’ll get her,” I say as Holly takes a step back.
“I’ve got her. You go get that painkiller.”
The silence that follows as she walks out of the room is deafening.
I lean back against the couch, every muscle pulled tight.
I should be grateful for the interruption.
I should remind myself of every reason she’s off-limits.
Every reason this won’t work.
Every reason why I’m not for her.
But all I can think about is how close she was. How soft she was. How good my name sounded on her lips. And how much trouble I’m in.
HOLLY
I may need to rethink my Christmas wish list this year. Just saying.
—Holly’s Secret Thoughts
Sleep doesn’t come easily.
How could it when every single time I close my eyes, I see Camden sitting there on his couch? Messy hair. Bare chest. Stormy green eyes locked on my every move.
Every. Damn. Second. It all plays on a loop like a movie I can’t look away from.
I should be horrified. Or mortified. I’m sure there’s a few other‘fiedsI could come up with if I really try, but seriously... I’m ready to throw on sweats and my Uggs and run back to my bedroom at the vineyard and hide until New Year’s.
Maybe longer.
But I don’t. I can’t. I won’t leave. Because I’m not horrified or mortified or any other‘fied. I’maching. Aching for CamdenMonroe. I breezed right past fun and flirty and went to a place I wasn’t expecting and can’t stop thinking about.
And by the time morning finally comes and the sun starts leaking through the kitchen window, I’ve already downed my second cup of coffee.
Yup. Coffee. Me.
Who am I?
Oh right. I’m the asshole who needed a distraction and decided baking an entire batch of cinnamon rolls might take my mind off my stupidity. Do I need them? No. But sugar is always a good distraction. The cinnamon mixing with it covers the stench of regret.
