Page 29 of Her Christmas Fix
“I’m serious. Monika Graham looks at you like you hang the damn moon. And you look at her the same way, which is understandable.” He shakes his head. “Not because she’s a movie star, Griff. Because she belongs here. There’s no accounting for taste, but she’s crazy about you.”
The words hit like a sucker punch. “Even if that’s true?—”
“It is.”
“How would it work?”
“You’ll figure it out because that’s who you are.” Noah grabs another piece of bacon. “Besides, it’s Christmas morning. The day when people believe in miracles and second chances and all that hopeful holiday crap. Some things are worth the effort.You’d see that if you could pull your head out of your ass for a half a second.”
He gets out of the booth and walks away before I can respond.
All my life, I’ve known how to fight. First with my fists, then with weapons, strategy, and force. But fighting for love? Fighting for someone who makes me want to be better than I am?
That might be scarier than any mission I was assigned, but Noah’s right. She’s worth it, I think, as hope unfurls in my chest. And I’m done being a coward.
I start to move out of the booth, then pause as the entire diner goes quiet. I look up and forget how to breathe.
Monika’s standing in the doorway, and she’s not the woman with the messy bun I’ve come to know—to love—over the past two weeks.
This is Monika Graham, movie star. Her hair falls in perfect waves past her shoulders, and her makeup is flawless even though she doesn’t need it to be beautiful to me. She’s wearing dark jeans that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage, boots that definitely do, and a deep red sweater that makes her eyes sparkle.
She also looks like she’s bracing for impact. As if she showed up here to see if anyone would treat her differently and prove that the past two weeks were just people being friendly to her because of me.
The Wild Rose Point locals might pay to see her on the big screen, but right now she’s one of us. Someone who’s come for Christmas breakfast because she belongs here.
“Hey, Graham!” one of the guys who helped with the flooring calls from the corner table. “We’ve got space over here.”
Something flashes across her face. Relief or gratitude—either one will do. And her sweet smile? That’s my Monika.
She starts to move toward them, but I’m already on my feet, crossing the diner in three strides.
“She’s with me,” I say, probably louder than necessary.
Noah flashes a shit-eating grin. “About damn time.”
Monika raises a brow, and I realize how presumptuous that sounded.
“I mean, if you want to be. With me.” Christ, I sound like a teenager asking the head cheerleader to prom. “I want you to be with me.”
Everyone is watching, but I don’t care. All that matters is the woman standing in front of me. She’s everything I never knew I needed.
Instead of answering, she goes up on tiptoe and spreads her hands across my canvas jacket, then pulls me down for a kiss that makes my knees weak. The diner erupts in whistles and catcalls, but all I can focus on is her mouth on mine and the way she fits perfectly against me.
When we finally break apart, she points up. “Mistletoe.”
Sure enough, someone has hung a sprig above where we’re standing.
“Wasn’t my idea,” Noah calls out. “I wouldn’t be caught under that thing.”
“I would,” I say, quiet enough that only she can hear. “I’d stand here all day with you.”
The look she gives me makes it hard to swallow, but we need to talk without an audience. I lace my fingers through hers and start to lead her toward the door, then remember there might be photographers out there.
Instead, I pull her through the kitchen’s swinging door. Noah’s prep cook takes one look at us and disappears.
“Very smooth,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“I want to make this work,” I say the words before I lose my nerve. “I know I can’t protect you from everything and that yourlife comes with cameras and publicity and a thousand things I don’t understand. But I want to try. I can’t let you go without fighting for us.”
