Page 30 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

May huffs. “Practice makes perfect. I already told you, twelve days, twelve kisses. Take the deal or leave it.”

As if they are in cahoots, working together, Noel whines, setting her chin on my knee and peering up at me with her big brown eyes. I’m not losing Noel—or our home. “Comeon, Eaton. Let’s do this.” I stand and rub my hands together as if I’m about to enter a boxing ring rather than lay one on the man.

Elliot’s crazed eyes and frown ask me if I am joking. So, I walk over to the doorway at my right and stand beneath May’s mistletoe. Because—nope, not kidding over here.

“Now, that’s the spirit,” May says. “Come on, Elliot. Be more like Bonnie.”

My lips form an O and blow out the air and discomfort building in my chest. It’s like I’ve gone to anxiety boot camp. I’m here and in training. All anxiety, all the time.

Noel knows it. Not so much that she’s nudging my pocket, telling me to take my meds, but she does trot over to where I stand and rests one of her paws on the toe of my brown boot. She lifts her head until it hits the tip of my fingers, and I breathe a little easier with her touch.

I can do this. It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean a thing. Elliot may be cute, but that doesn’t mean there are feelings involved. Yes, he’s attractive, but I am notattracted. No attraction.Got that, Bonnie?No attraction, nothing to be anxious about. This is a gift—this silly little game May is playing means no more hiding Noel, no more fear of being kicked out. Both of those things have actually caused a lot of anxiety. So,this—this isn’t something to get anxious over. This is a gift.

I tilt my head, run my fingers through the curls on top of No-No’s head, and peer at Elliot. I give him my best well-get-over-herelook.And it must be effective because he wanders over to me.

Standing in front of me, his chest just inches from mine, I peer up into his face. He’s tall—taller than the few men I’ve dated. A few dates here and there and one measly boyfriend.Most guys see me doing breathing exercises, my dog glued to my side, and don’t bother asking for even date number one.

I swallow when he peers back, studying me. Pine and musk fill my senses and my nerves spike a little. But I remind myself—He’s attractive, I’m not attracted. He’s attractive, I’m not attracted.

“I’m sorry, Bonnie. I promise I don’t take advantage of women,” he whispers just for me.

I lick my lips—not meaning to draw attention there, but I see it the minute his eyes drop to my mouth. Finding my voice, I remind him that this isn’t a big deal. “You aren’t. This is May’s plan. And it’s going to get us both what we want.”

“Yes, but it never would have happened had I not asked you to pretend during that family photo.”

“I know you didn’t plan this,” I say—attractive, not attracted.

“Enough chit-chat,” May calls from across the room. “Let’s see how you two do. Go ahead, Elliot, give her a little smack-a-roo.”

I tip my chin up. It’s not like I haven’t been kissed before. I have. And this is a business transaction, so much less stressful.

Attractive, not attracted.

I leave my hands at my side. I wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway—not in this situation.

Elliot lifts one hand, cupping my cheek, and sighs with the task that must be done—wait, does he not find me attractive?

Can’t I be attractive and notattract him too?

Why does it matter? …It doesn’t. For sure. This is just as strange for him as it is for me.

I stand as still as a statue and wait for his mouth to meet my mouth. Five seconds of skin on skin and we’ll have one down, eleven to go. No. Big. Deal.

Maybe I’ll make a paper-chain to count down.

My eyes flutter closed with that thought. I pay attention to my breath. And then—Elliot Eaton lands. His lips, soft, supple, and gentle, press to mine—they don’t move or mold or tease my lips open, and yet pins and tingles make their way from my mouth, to my neck, to my chest, until my entire body prickles like a newly lit firework preparing to explode.

Noel’s head pushes further into my palm, and in three, two, one—Elliot breaks our connection.

And dang it. I might be the tiniest bit attracted to the man.

SIXTEEN

elliot

I layin bed staring at the ceiling. I press my lips together once, then twice. Embracing the lingering buzz that Bonnie Miller caused when I kissed her yesterday. The swirl of our breath came together. Our lips collided, leaving my brain tattooed with the feel of her. It won’t leave.

And I don’t know why.

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