Page 81 of Christmas in Paradise

I rush to the door and open it. “Man, am I—”

The rest of my words catch in my throat.

Hope is a mess.

Her hair sticks out in clumps all over her head, like maybe she’s been in a hair-pulling fight. The only time I’ve ever seen it look like this is after the make-out session—never mind. It’s not important.

She has black make-up under her eyes, and she has mud spots—or are they tiny paw prints?—up her legs and all over the front of her coat.

I stare at her, my jaw gaping. She stares back.

“What happened to you?” We both say at the same time.

“Mistletoe mishap,” she says over my “ebelskiver disaster.”

“Did you say ebelskiver?” she asks and unzips her coat.

“Yeah, you want some? Charly and I made them.” I help her take off her coat and hang it up.

“Uh oh. Does she look as bad as you?”

I look at her, then down at myself.

My apron is covered in chocolate smears, sticky spots of lemon curd, raspberry sauce, and flour. Powdered sugar dusts my black jeans and boots, and my skin is still shiny with butter.

“Maybe?”

“Worse?” Her mouth pulls down in a worried frown.

“Probably?” I wince. “But we had fun together.”

Hope’s face smooths, and she steps closer. “You’ve got chocolate here.” She rubs her thumb on the side of my mouth. “And some here.” She rubs the other side, moving even closer. “Some flour here.”

Now her fingers brush my cheek, sending charges of electricity across my skin. Her eyes lock with mine, and the energy flowing between us could power entire cities. The intensity of it scares me. I don’t know how much longer I can fight it. The friend zone boundaries are very fuzzy right now.

But it’s my responsibility to redefine them. Until Hope is ready to see me as something more than a friend, I can’t act on my attraction. Or let her act on hers. I don’t want to do anything that either of us will regret, but I especially want to protect Hope. Charly is her priority.

So I put a few inches between us. It’s not much, but enough to turn down the charge between us. Then I pat the side of her head. “You’ve got a hair out of place.” I do the same on the other side. “And a few more over here.”

I keep my eyes focused on her hair. If I look in her eyes and see the slightest invitation, I will kiss her. And if I kiss her, I won’t ever want to stop.

Hope laughs and brushes her hands through her hair. “Does it look like a squirrel’s nest? Because I’m serious, I just had a truly terrifying squirrel encounter.” She looks through the open door to the kitchen, releasing me from her spell. “Where’s Charly?”

“She’s in there with Uncle Rad.” With my hands on her shoulders, I guide her into the kitchen. “Tell me all about your squirrels while I make you a fresh batch of ebelskiver.”

She walks into the kitchen, then stops so fast, I nearly run into her. “You weren’t joking about a disaster, were you?”

I thought I’d done a decent job on clean up, but when I look at the kitchen through Hope’s eyes, I see the dishes stacked haphazardly in the sink, the chocolate and flour spots on the counter, and the batter streaks dripping down the cabinets.

I rush to the dishwasher and start shoving dishes inside it, while Hope walks to Charly and squats down.

“She’s asleep,” she whispers. “With Uncle Rad. They’re both out like a light.” Then she pulls out her phone and takes a picture. “This is probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

I stop what I’m doing and agree. Hope taking a picture of Charly asleep with Uncle Rad on the dog bed is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

Hope leans closer to Charly. “Is her dress on backwards? And inside out?”

“Maybe?” I shrug. I hadn’t noticed when I put it on her. “Honestly, it’s probably better that way.”

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