Page 2 of Merry Kissmas

“Done,” he says.

Other people call out their floors, and I say a small prayer on our way up that we aren’t over the weight limit.I’m not claustrophobic or scared of elevators, but the words death and trap come to mind.

The elevator stops at every single floor, and finally the man who might be taller than the Christmas tree in the lobby exits.I inhale a deep breath after being stuck in the corner.But the problem is, when I look around at who is left, the first person I get an eyeful of is the British man who took up the impromptu job of elevator operator.He’s leaning with his back against the wall, ankles crossed, his head buried in his phone.

I freeze for a split second, and the air all rushes out of my lungs because I know exactly who he is.

I look left and right, as if I can escape before he sees me, but it’s not a scene fromMission Impossible.Although I don’t consider myself completely risk averse, I’m not up for the whole “opening the hatch to the elevator and climbing out the top” thing.As I’m about to turn around to give him my back, hoping he gets off on a floor before me, the elevator stops, and he glances up to check which floor we’ve stopped on.

Our eyes meet, and the affable look on his face transforms into shock first, confusion second, and finally settles on wariness.

I lift my hand and wave like an idiot, but hello, surprises make me antsy, especially the bad kind.

ChapterTwo

Pierce

Why my cousin loves this city, I have no clue.He should have stayed in London with me.With the way people push and crowd onto the elevator, you’d think the world is ending, and this thing is going to teleport us all to safety.And when did people stop having manners and common courtesy?

Of course, I get a spot right by the elevator buttons and have to chance getting everyone’s winter cold by pressing every number from two to sixty.

As I wait for my floor, I don’t want to engage in conversation, so I bury my head in my phone as if I’m someone important who can’t spend a minute on an elevator without someone demanding my time.

The fine hairs rise along the back of my neck, and I get the distinct sensation that someone is staring at me.The elevator dings, giving me an excuse to look up, and bloody hell, I can’t believe who’s looking back at me.It can’t be her.

Yet I know it is.

Long dark hair, brown eyes that drew me in all those years ago at the pub where we first met.I’ve thought of her too many times to count over the years.She’s gorgeous now, whereas I would have described her as cute and adorable back then.

Brynn lifts her hand up warily as if she thinks I’ve forgotten her.Never.

The doors shut, and the elevator lifts, along with my stomach.

All these years between us, and now she’s standing in front of me.

I’m not a man accustomed to losing his ability to speak.Hell, I’m a professor, or at least Iwasa professor, of marketing.

“Hello, Brynn.”I pocket my phone and step closer.

She steps back.

So, she still hates me.Got it.

“Hello, Mr.…Pierce.”

I chuckle because that was our exact problem, wasn’t it?Who exactly was I to her?Not who I wanted to be, that’s for sure, but there was a lot riding on my future when we first met.

“How have you been?”I ask.

That’s the best I can do?I sound like a complete prat.

I really hate the judgmental arse who lives inside my head.

“Good.”

Brynn looks next to her, where a petite woman is staring between the two of us, watching our interaction.Her smile is wide and welcoming as if we’re a show, and she won first row seats.

“You?”Brynn asks, looking away from the woman.

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