Page 7 of One Golden Ring

I take another sip of my coffee, an image of Drake leaning down, lips hovering near mine, flashing through my mind. Maybe I’ll be the one to get caught under the mistletoe with him. Or perhaps I’ll be bold enough to pull him there myself.

A small, mischievous smile tugs at my lips as I catch sight of the library doors again.

Christmas miracles happen all the time.

Chapter Six

Drake

I don’t know why I’m letting her get away with all this. It’s my library, damn it, and yet Wynter seems to think it’s her playground. And maybe it is—because right now, as I stand in the middle of the room, watching her work, I can’t think of a single thing I’d change.

Except maybe the glittery angel display.

I fold my arms over my chest, glaring at the monstrosity she’s creating. The thing is huge—shimmering with so much sparkle and light thatit could probably be seen from space. It’s over-the-top, loud, and completely unnecessary.

“Wynter,” I say, stepping forward as she adds another string of twinkling lights. “This is a library, not a Vegas show.”

She turns with herhands on her hips, defiance shooting from her eyes. “It’s a Christmas festival. People want to feel the magic of the season, not stare at drab bookshelves.”

I narrow my gaze. “Drab? These bookshelves have more history and character than your glitter explosion will ever have.”

Wynter shakes her head. “You are such a moody Grinch.” She steps closer, tilting her head and looking up at me with a playful smile. “You’re just lucky I’m here to save you from a boring Christmas. And you're doubly lucky that grinches don’t scare me.”

I clench my jaw, trying not to be distracted by the way her lips curl when she teases me. “Save me? You’ve got more lights in here than a city block. I’m pretty sure we’ll blow a fuse if you keep this up.”

She tosses her head back and laughs. “I think the library could use a little light.”

“Well…” I swallow hard as the scent of her sweet perfume hits me. “I don’t.”

She inches closerandrises onto her toes, locking her big blue eyes on me. “Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your precious library.”

I grunt, shifting my stance, trying to ignore the way my arms want to curl right around her and pull her close. “I never said you were ruining it.”

When her pink lips slightly part, my heart races and my brain starts to short-circuit wondering what she’ll taste like.

“I just want your library to feel like a really special place,” she says quietly. “I want people to walk in here andfeelthe magic. I want them to forget about any troubles they might have. I want them to smileand step into a real wonderland forjust a little while.”

I look at her—really look at her—and see past the glitter and lights. I see the way her eyes soften when she talks about Christmas, the way a shadow of sadness casts across her face.

And just like that, I cave.

“I get it,” I nod. “I do.”

She looks up at me, surprised like she didn’t expect me to agree with her.

“Just don’t overdo it,” I add, but the words feel hollow, even to me. Because the truth is, I don’t care how many lights she strings up. She could turn this place into a Christmas circus, and I wouldn’t stop her.

Because I pull in another deep breath of her perfume, I’m all about the way she moves, the way she laughs, the way her curves catch my eye every damn time she walks past.

I’m not in the least bit frustrated with any of the decorations. I’m frustrated with how much I want her. And it’s not just that. Whenever she’s here, more guys keep wandering in, pretending to check out books while really checking out her.It’s painfully apparent, and it makes my blood boil. The way they look at her, like she’s something they can claim.

Bam! It hits me like a snowball between the eyes.

She’s mine.

I step closer, crowding her space a little, and notice how her breath catches.

“Do you really need this many lights?” I ask, my voice low.

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