Page 25 of Holiday Romance
It’s the heat of him that hits me first, so at odds with the sharp bite of cold air swirling through the doors. The gentle rasp of his beard is a surprise against my skin, especially when compared with the softness of his lips. Men don’t have soft lips in winter. Men have chapped lips in winter because they don’t know how to use lip balm. But Andrew’s are soft. Soft and warm as they cling to mine. Cling because he’s kissing me back. This is no peck on the cheek, no joke between friends under the mistletoe. He’s standing there and he’s kissing me back and I suddenly can’t get close enough.
There’s a swooping sensation in my stomach that must be from the champagne and it takes more effort than it should to let him go. I force myself to pull away, but Andrew chases me, closing the inch of space I put between us to brush against me once more before he draws back completely.
My stupid heart is pounding when I open my eyes and I find myself staring at his shoulder as he turns back to the now clapping man as if to say,There you go, buddy.Merry Christmas.
“Happy now?” Andrew asks me after taking a short bow. “Going to start eating candy canes and join the novelty sweater club?”
I clear my throat, knowing it’s my turn for some quip about the taste of his onion rings or how I need to wash my tongue with soap, but my mouth is suddenly dry and I can’t seem to force the words out.
“Moll?”
My phone buzzes with a text and I use the excuse to break away from his questioning gaze. “Ride’s here,” I mutter, barely glancing at the screen, and I walk outside without waiting for him, eager for some fresh air, no matter how cold it is. And it is freakingcold. Still, I breathe it in, inhaling until my lungs hurt.
Well, that was weird.
Andrew bumps my arm a moment later and I cast my eye around the drop-off point for our car. “Blew your mind with that kiss, huh?”
I glance sharply at him, but he’s smiling. He’sjoking. “Because I’m just saying, if this is you finally getting into the festive spirit—”
“Okay,” I interrupt, and he laughs. The sound of it makes me feel better.
“I think I’m getting hungry again,” I tell him. It’s not a lie. All that panic takes up a lot of energy.
“We’ll get a really big panettone,” he promises as I concentrate on locating Trevor and his white Toyota. Not going to lie, it’s mainly thewhitebit of that description I’m focusing on. “The biggest panettone in all the land.”
“Stop saying panettone,” I grumble as his phone rings.
“Must be my panettone guy.” He dodges my hit as he retrieves it from his pocket, his smile fading when he checks the screen. “It’s Christian. Trust him to be up at this hour.”
“Doesn’t he live in London?” I ask, tucking my chin into my coat as I shiver. Andrew’s younger brother had moved there a few years ago to work.
“He’s not a good sleeper.”
“Ten bucks says he’s calling to yell at you.”
Andrew only gives me a look as he accepts the call. “Hey,” he says as I shudder again. “Yeah, we’re completely grounded.” He tugs the scarf from around his neck, holding it out to me and then throwing it at my head when I don’t take it.
Put it on, he mouths, and I roll my eyes, secretly grateful as I do just that. I’m wearing my traveling Irish coat, not my Chicago one, and boy oh boy, do I feel the difference.
Andrew scowls at whatever his brother is saying, but he keeps one eye on me until I have the scarf wrapped tight. “It’s not like we didn’t try to… IknowMam’s upset, but what I am supposed to do? Yeah, she’s here. No, I’m…” His voice drops as he turns his back to me, walking a few steps away. “That’s not why I… Oh,realmature.”
I turn away, pretending I can’t hear him as I tug the scarf up over my chin.
It smells like him. No, not him. His soap. Hissoap, Molly. Jesus. I glare at the line of cars, annoyed with myself, even as I breathe in the scent.
Seriously though, what is that? Sandalwood?Pine? Is pine soap a thing?
“You Molly?”
I jump at the shout across the road as a large scowling man gestures at me from the driver’s seat of his white Toyota.
“You going to get in or what?” he asks gruffly when I nod.
I grab a tense-looking Andrew, who hangs up as we hurry to our ride. Whatever Christian said to him has destroyed his good mood and, by extension, mine, and he’s silent as we get into the back, head bent as they continue their conversation through text.
We’re on the interstate when he finally snaps, shoving his phone away with a noise of frustration as he sits back, gazing out the window. The urge to comfort him is overwhelming, and, as if to prove to myself that nothing’s wrong, I slip my hand into his free one and squeeze.
“We can video call your family,” I say. “The whole day if we have to. We’ll live-stream my apartment. Everything but the bathroom.”
