Page 43 of Mistletoe Face Off

Lorcan sidles up to us, a sneer on his face as he slaps me on the back as though we're buddies. “Nice touch. Your house now looks like a unicorn threw up on your roof, Clarke.”

“Great joke,” I throw back, not even bothering to look at the guy.

Why would I pay attention to Lorcan when I'm here with the woman of my dreams?

“You see, that's the difference between your house and mine. My house doesn't need any more work. Yours? I recommend a total demo,” he says.

“Leave the nice people alone,” his partner instructs, and I can't help but smile when he returns to his station, like he's been told off by his mom.

“Is he always that opinionated?” Holly asks me under her breath.

“Yup.”

“I gave him the nickname ‘Lorcan the Slime’ when I first met him, mainly because he’s so dang slimy.”

I chortle. Hot and with great taste? I think I’m in love.

Holly pushes her hair from her face with the back of her hand, smearing a glob of frosting on her cheek.

“You've got a little something here,” I tell her, pointing at my own cheek. “May I?”

She lifts her gaze to mine and the atmosphere around us thickens. “Sure,” she replies, her voice quiet.

Gently, I reach out and brush my fingers across the soft skin of her cheek, my heart beginning to race at the feel of her warm skin against my fingers, and I wish it was my lips, kissing it off.

Holly's eyes widen but she doesn't pull away. “Did you get it?” she asks, her voice now barely above a whisper.

I show her the frosting I removed from her cheek on the tip of my finger. “It looks like you were trying to start a Santa beard.”

Her face breaks into her beautiful smile. “There can only be one Santa in this relationship.”

Wait.Relationship?

She catches herself. “I mean partnership. That's what I meant. Gingerbread house building partnership. You and me: partners.”

It's my turn to smile. “I think I like the other word more.”

I’m showing my hand. I’m good with it. Great, even.

With her eyes still wide, she swallows, and I know she feels it too. There's such a strong and undeniable pull between us, and it just keeps growing and growing, each and every time we meet.

Just as it did when we were sharing the chimney before, the moment between us stretches, filled with possibility, and I want so much to tell her how I feel about her. I want her to know that to me, she's not just some woman I've been thrown together with, my duelling partner for an audience at theseChristmas events. She's someone I want to get to know a whole lot better, because if my intuition is right, she and I could really be something together.

Then, with a soft crunch, our gingerbread house collapses completely, sending a cloud of powdered sugar into the air.

“What the …?” I exclaim.

Holly’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, no!”

We both stare at the gingerbread ruins in shock. Then, as if on cue, we both burst into laughter.

“We are truly terrible at this,” she says, her whole face lit up with mirth.

I collect one of the broken walls in my hand. “I don't know. It's got a kind of post-apocalyptic charm, as far as I can see.” I take a bite out of it, savoring its sweet taste. .

“Well, at least we make a good team,” she says lightly.

“The best,” I agree, and I can't help marvel at how right this feels.

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