Page 46 of The Christmas Romance Wish

A smile wavers on her face before it locks into place. “Sure. Sounds better than doing a hundred pushups. But uh, where are the decorations?” She eyes the homespun table setting with the red mug, plaid napkin, and white plate as if she worries that we’re going to be making red, white, and green rings out of construction paper.

“Come on. We’re going on a mission,” I say as if leading my squad.

Emmie follows after me, and I just hope she’s up for the task.

Alex

CHAPTER 12

The floor at the end of the hallway creaks and I open the door to the attic. Cold, stale air escapes.

I climb the stairs with Emmie closely behind me. I tend to run hot, temperature-wise, but I downright burn for this woman.

She yelps when a cobweb brushes her skin. Her fingers loop through the back of my belt like we’re tandem climbing a cliff face.

When we reach the landing, shafts of low light beam through the dormer windows. Disturbed by our footsteps, dust motes dance in the air.

“I plan on getting this part of the house finished off like the basement. But the pool table, sauna, and workout room took priority.”

“We don’t have attics in Florida. They’re inherently creepy. In movies, they’re always filled with old dolls, dusty metal objects, and ghosts,” Emmie says.

“What kinds of movies do you watch?”

“My brothers made me watch the worst flicks, but I prefer historical documentaries.”

More and more, I believe Emmie is the woman for me.

With a gentle nudge, I say, “But it’s Christmastime. Nothing is spooky about this time of year.”

“All the same, remind me never to come up here around Halloween.”

I rather like the idea of Emmie being around almost a year into the future.

“This is a massive house. Four bedrooms, right? Loads of storage. The finished basement. Why didn’t you put your Christmas decorations somewhere else?”

“They seem like the kind of things you’d put in an attic. I’ve only been up here once and it was to stash all this stuff.”

“Wait. If you haven’t been home for Christmas in like twenty years, where did you get the decorations?”

I point to the cartons and bins that are right where I left them haphazardly stacked because I wasn’t sure when I’d get around to going through them.

“They were my grandmother’s. I spent a lot of time with her when I was growing up. She was a good woman. Heart of gold. Saw the best in people, unfortunately, even her own daughter who was the opposite kind of person.”

“What did you call her?”

Thinking about Emmie’s made-up royalty name, I say, “G-Money Queenie.”

“That’s original.”

I laugh. “I’m kidding. I called her Gram.”

“And your grandfather?”

“He passed away before I was old enough to remember.”

“But he left you this property and you saved all her Christmas decorations?”

“They were part of my best memories before I ran away as fast as I could from the mess that was my childhood and joined the service.”

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