Page 2 of A Not So Merry Kiss-mas
My heart is still pounding, reminding me that adrenaline is still coursing through my veins. Unconsciously my hands smooth over the evergreen cashmere dress I’m wearing, basking in the softness against my skin.
Making my way down the hall, a mirror catches my reflection, and I barely recognize the person with bright green eyes, flushed cheeks, and tousled hair staring back at me.
“Mel!” Noelle’s voice calls out from my left, and I turn toward her. “You look amazing!”
Her hazel eyes glow, and the red dress she’s wearing sparkles as she wraps her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. “Forget about Mike,” Noelle whispers, “No one is going to be able to take their eyes off of you.”
The tension clenching my chest releases at her words, and for the first time in a long time, a warmth fills me. She squeezes my hand, then excitedly tugs me away from the entryway into the fray of people.
We walk through the crowd of guests talking and laughing until I finally see Cole toward the back of the room, engaging in a lively conversation with the person I can only assume is Mike.
A gray suit jacket stretches across broad shoulders, with dark hair that curls slightly at the end resting on the collar. A flutter, like the subtle flap of a butterfly’s wings, flits through my stomach.
Cole’s gaze shifts away from Mike’s to me when he spots the two of us over Mike’s shoulder. A warm smile graces his face, and for the second time tonight, a sense of ease engulfs me. “Mel!” Cole yells and makes his way toward me and Noelle.
At that moment, Mike turns, and a pair of hesitant blue eyes connect with mine before a roguish glint fills them. He beams asmile my way that sends a rush of heat through my body, and heaven help me, my knees go weak.
Cole kisses me on the cheek before sliding next to Noelle. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her slightly to the side as he points at the man walking toward us. “This is my friend Mike.”
Three Days Earlier
My heart slams against my ribcage, startling me, and I groan, throwing the pillow over my face as Jon Bon Jovi screams‘Shot through the heart and you’re to blame…’joined by an off-key baritone.
“Ugh! He really doesn’t understand the meaning of playing music softly—” I cringe as my next-door neighbor screeches out the rest of the lyrics like he’s preparing for a world tour with the band.
“Hey!” I scream, banging my fist against the bedroom wall. I still don’t understand why anyone thought it was a good idea to put my apartment’s bedroom next to my neighbor’s kitchen. “Can you turn that down?!”
Instead of the music lowering, the deep voice fades at the same time his apartment door shuts, leaving Jon to continue the song solo.
Tossing my down comforter off, I plant my feet on the floor and rake my hand through my hair before huffing out afrustrated sigh. I was just drifting off when Michael Matthews turned the apartment building into his own personal recording studio.
Apparently, I’m the only one who cares about my neighbor’s impromptu concerts.
I give my head a firm shake and push up from the bed in an attempt to get the image of my neighbor in his form-fitting Henleys out of my head.
Bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile flash across my mind, and I scoff, making my brows furrow tightly.
Michael is undeniably attractive, but he’s also one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met.
How is it possible to always be in such a good mood?
Mrs. Fletcher, my adorable older neighbor who lives across the hall from the two of us, can’t say enough good things about him. She’s always telling me how helpful and sweet he is. All while never missing an opportunity to mention his relationship status—single.
“And he’s going to stay that way,” I grumble, I have no desire to date anyone at the moment, or in the near future. Nursing school was rough, but there is no way to accurately describe what working in a hospital as a resident is like.
Nothing anyone tells you can prepare you for how bone tired you’ll feel working odd-hour shifts, or the emotional toll it will take, depending on the case you’re working on. I reach my hand up around the back of my neck and rub as I roll my head back and forth.
But at the same time, I can’t see myself doing anything else. Working with children is a dream come true. I’ve always loved them.
A knock echoes through my apartment, just as a high-energy burst of keyboard sounds from the other apartment. “Who the heck?”
Walking across the room, I ignore my hair that’s standing on end; if the reflection in the mirror says anything, it’s that I unhappily just rolled out of bed. It’s a pretty accurate telling of the situation.
I turn the knob and whip the door open to find my personal tormentor standing on the other side, wearing a lopsided grin and a sparkle in his blue eyes. A tiny quiver makes its way from my heart down to my stomach. As if on cue, my brows pull tighter, and I feel my lips tighten into a straight line.
The sparkle in the blue eyes pinning me dims a tiny bit before a wide grin spreads across the sculpted face of the one and only Mr. Matthews.
My hand lifts to the side of my head and brushes down to the ends of my hair. A tenderness enters the eyes of the man in front of me, and I snatch my arm down to my side.
