Page 12 of The Christmas Romance Wish

Actually, yes because I should know better than to think I’d be anything but lonely this Christmas.

It takes me a while to collect my luggage—Dylann reminded me that I’m packing for cold and hot weather locations so I brought a lot. Mostly, she ignored my packing cubes and stuffed items in my suitcases. I load them onto a luggage cart.

As I stride through the terminal, pushing way too muchluggage for little more than a two-week trip, I scowl at the holiday décor. If the Grinch were a lady, I’d be her. I didn’t choose this for myself, but compounding factors make me dread the holiday and not only because it’s also my birthday.

No one wants to hear that sob story. Instead, I help heroes and people who’ve transformed their lives tell theirs. After spending months emailing back and forth as I cowrite a veteran’s biography, it’s finally our moment of reckoning.

I repeat this message to myself to reinforce it while taking a pit stop in the ladies’ room to freshen up and reapply my lipstick. Considering I just bounced around in a metal cylinder while hurtling through the atmosphere for five hours, I look like a corgi in a Santa hat sat on my head.

After smoothing my hair, I chug the last of my water, hoping it helps stop the churning anticipation in my stomach of having my hopes and dreams dashed when Ginny welcomes me into her home and tells me how amazing Alex is.

Facts I already know.

I prepare myself with words of praise and kindness at how lucky she is to be dating a real American hero.

When I finally tear myself from the ladies’ room, I emerge from the secured part of the airport and stride toward the exit. The festive decorations follow me along with the classic carol “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” playing over the building’s audio system instead of the usual crackling of announcements.

Outside, the air is crisp and refreshing as I draw a deep breath.

Every year, my Christmas wish has been for my parents to return. Perhaps it’s time to move on. Maybe it’s time to switch up my wish. Instead of wanting something from the past, I’ll look toward the future. A future where I’m not awkward Emmie with her busy brain, always alone. Maybe leaving the house beyond my daily runs for a peppermint mocha will prove fruitful. Perhaps during this trip, somewhere between Utah and Florida, I’ll meet someone special.

As my breath puffs in the cool early evening air, I decide that this year, I’ll make a Christmas romance wish.

Then again, I fear I already have, but he’s taken...and standing by the door, only a few yards away.

I recognize Alex instantly by his stature and posture alone. He’s tall with broad shoulders. Clad in jeans and a heavy winter jacket over a plaid shirt. Well-built with butterscotch brown eyes and dark hair. He sports an attractive amount of stubble, but I only notice that because he’s commented on his daily battle with whether or not to shave.

Can’t lie. I rather like the rugged mountain man look.

And wouldn’t you know it, those bah humbugs betray me again.

Good thing it’s twilight and gloomy because my cheeks compete with Rudolph and his red nose.

Alex

CHAPTER 4

Waiting at the entrance to the airport, situationally aware of my surroundings as usual, a woman with long dark blond hair exits the terminal and looks around.

My pulse trips. I almost do a double take because it’s been a while since I’ve found someone so attractive. She teases her bottom lip with her teeth as she searches the crowd on the sidewalk.

She has to be Emmie. Please let her be Emmie.

Her gaze drifts toward mine and we connect. Even from this distance, I lock on her hazel eyes. Her lips curve upward and she marches toward me.

Target acquired.

Instead of having her in the crosshairs of my reticle, arrows volley and puncture me in the chest with every step she takes.

Something inside explodes, but instead of blowing me apart, it warms me through.

They say love hurts, but these projectiles are more of the marshmallow variety.

My focus funnels toward the woman wearing a stylish wool winter coat that reaches her mid-thighs, dark brown leather boots that hit below the knee and have a slight heel, and a black scarfthat drapes around her neck. She has long lashes, a dainty nose, and lips that are like two plump sugar plums.

The tempo of my pulse changes, kicking with a song and dance. “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” to be exact. Or maybe that plays in the background of the airport entrance. Possibly for the first time in my adult life, my surroundings turn fuzzy.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but like in the movies, when two long-lost lovers reunite in an airport scene, I stride toward her, arms wide, prepared to sweep her off her feet, spin her in a circle, and then close with a warm embrace.

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