Page 83 of Christmas in Paradise

“And you, Uncle Rad?”

Uncle Rad yips, and Charly puts her hand on the puppy's neck. The puppy responds by turning in a tight circle before lying down and resting her head on the edge of Charly’s seat.

“Allrighty. Let’s do this. Operation Mistletoe Retrieval is a go.” Seb flips on his lights, lays his arm across my seat and looks over his shoulder while he backs out of the driveway.

Snow swirls in the headlights and sticks to his windshield as we pull onto the road. By the time we hit the canyon for the hour and half drive to Florence, Charly and Uncle Rad are both snoring softly in the back seat.

“So, did you find somewhere for us to stay?” I smile and push back the anxious tickle in my throat.

“I did.” Seb smiles. “And it wasn’t easy. The big game is this weekend and Florence State University is in the playoffs. First time ever, so the place is packed.”

“But you got two rooms?” This time I can’t hide my nervousness. It rushes out with my question.

“I did. The only two rooms left in Florence.” Seb hooks his wrist over the steering wheel with a relaxed confidence that eases my own worry.

“Great,” I breathe out, and my chest loosens.

I’m not worried about going to Florence with Seb at all. It might be fun. In fact, I’m sure it will be. I have no problem having fun with Seb.

I also have no problem wanting to kiss him. Or hold him. Or have him hold me.

That’sthe problem.

I can’t stop wanting those things, no matter how hard I try. It’s easier to allow myself to want something that feels so right than to take the more practical, smart choice to repress my feelings into oblivion.

So, sharing a hotel room with him isnotan option, even if we have Charly and Uncle Rad to chaperone us. Because, let’s be honest, neither of them is qualified for that job.

“Thanks again, Seb. I really appreciate you doing this for me.” I sink deeper in my seat and focus on the snow falling to try and distract myself from the smell of leather, soap, and Seb that fills the cab of the truck.

“I’m glad I could help.” He rolls his shoulders, then grips the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t want you driving this canyon alone with snow coming down like this.”

We both lean forward and look out the front window. Every swish of the wipers clears new snow from the windshield. “We’ll be able to get back tomorrow, right?”

“Sure. We’ll be fine.” He hesitates a beat too long before answering. “I just didn’t want to take any chances the road might close tonight and keep you from getting your mistletoe.” He glances at me and must see worry written on my face. “Hope, I’ve driven this road a million times. It hardly ever closes. I’m being cautious, that’s all.”

“Okay.” I exhale and relax into Seb’s certainty.

“We’ll get the mistletoe first thing in the morning, then leave. Home before noon. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy,” he continues, growing more confident with his plan. But then he sucks in his breath and adds, “The hotel has wi-fi in case you need to work—I checked on that. And I booked us for two nights, just in case.”

I sit upright. “You just said we’d be back mid-morning.”

Seb reaches across the seat and puts his hand over mine. “We will. This is me being cautious, Hope. Responsible even.”

At that I laugh and relax back into the seat, but I don’t move my hand. Despite my reaction, the thought of being stuck in Florence with Seb isn’t terrible. Stressful, yes, but only because of work. I’ve got way too much on my plate to even entertain the idea of spending an entire day with Seb, away from Paradise and all the pressures there.

Away from everyone who knows him so well. Away from everyone who’s ever worried about the two of us together.

Wait.

That’s me.

I’m the one who’s been worried about the two of us together.

But a day with thethreeof us—four if we count Uncle Rad—could be the perfect opportunity to see what that might be like on a more permanent basis.

I drop my eyes to Seb’s hand still covering mine. Without a second thought, I flip over my hand, so our palms are pressed together and slide my fingers through his.

His eyes slide to our hands, then to me. “This is nice. Very friendly.”

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