Page 49 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

On May’s front porch, Elliot pauses his quick pace. I look up at him, waiting for his explanation.

“You can’t kiss me like that in front of my mother.”

“Oh.” I swallow. I mean—sure, that makes sense. “Right. Of course not.”

“Are you okay?” His brows cinch together as if we were just in a traumatic accident together. Huh—the best kiss of my life might be something traumatic for Elliot Eaton.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Elliot runs a hand through his hair. “Okay.” He sighs. Ithink that kiss truly exhausted the man. “Are you able to go tree shopping tomorrow?”

“Sure.” I shrug. “I can go.” I’m not at the center tomorrow and my other jobs are all pretty open to my own scheduling. I can walk the dogs in the morning or at night if I need to.

A smile touches his eyes, putting me at ease after his panic. “Okay, then, I’ll pick you up.”

I lift one brow. “That shouldn’t be too difficult seeing how we live in the same building.”

“Oh yeah. You’re making this whole thing easy for me,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

TWENTY-FOUR

elliot

It’sa good thing I don’t have school tomorrow. I’ve hardly slept a wink all night. Nope, I’ve got Bonnie Miller on my mind. I am too busy seeing her strawberry-blonde waves and blue-green eyes in my head. In my exhausted delirium, I’ve decided that her hair is like silk and her eyes resemble valuable gems. It’s weird. And abnormal. I shouldn’t be thinking these things. I’m running on fumes and my head is all over the place. I keep replaying that kiss in my mind over and over again.

I can’t even remember the color of Jess’s eyes this second. Okay, not true. They’re brown. But amber brown? Russet brown? Grey brown? Green brown? I honestly cannot recall. I bound myself to the girl for two years and I can’t come up with the exact hue of her eyes.

They are brown.

The end.

But Bonnie Miller’s eyes—they are the same color as the eggs a robin once laid in Gran’s backyard tree when I was thirteen. I can still see those eggs in my mind. There werethree huddled together and they were the prettiest color I’d ever seen in my short life.

Bonnie’s hair must be as smooth as the feathers of those baby birds—soft and silky. Her cheeks are pink, especially when she’s a little embarrassed. And her lips are sweet—like pure sugar cane.

Yep, my thoughts are overflowing with things that shouldn’t be there.

But they have been all night. In fact, at this rate, I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep for the next nine days.

Bonnie Miller is driving me crazy.

I’m not sure how to get out of seeing her today. I could fake an illness. But then would Gran take back her promises? It’s one thing to lose my dreams, but to take away Bonnie’s home is another thing entirely.

Still, it’s only day three and I’m losing my sanity. I’m not sleeping.

If I’m being honest, Iwantto see her. I am that masochistic. I have more questions, more thoughts, more I want to know about Bonnie. I even want to see which tree she’d pick out.

I am a jumbled mess when I remind myself it’s not up to me. Gran has a plan and we all know I won’t disappoint that woman.

My phone pings, telling my head to quiet down all its worries.

It’s a group text. With me, Bonnie, and my mother.

Oh, boy.

Mom: Kids, sad news. The tree yard where we normally pick out our trees has unexpectedly shut down this year.

Bonnie: Marlene?

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