Page 10 of Their Christmas Miracle

Holly

Shit, that hurt. I press fingertips to my forehead where Josh’s head connected with mine, trying to grin through the stab of pain. It’s gone in an instant, but the smile that crept up onto his lips stays behind.

What’s he finding so funny, exactly?

I scowl at him, but this just makes that smile inch up.

It’s a nice smile, but for fuck’s sake, I’m on my hands and knees here and this isn’t getting food in my belly any sooner. I’m already lightheaded and now possibly concussed too. I scramble over the floor, shove my hand under the table where his pen rolled, mouth an apology up to the startled couple above me, and stand. I brush my clothes off, watching Mr. Prim and Proper as he does the same.

“Bar?” I ask, handing him the pen.

“Bar.” He sounds like he’s looking forward to having a drink. Or nine.

We get there, but then I remembered why I’d pulled up short in the first place.

“Hey, can we sit over there?” I ask, tugging on the host’s sleeve.

The man pulls his arm away, giving me a scandalized frown before his eyes slide away to where I’m pointing.

“Certainly,” he murmurs. He changes direction, and I grin over my shoulder at Josh.

“I see why they call it the Golden Goose.” I point at the alcove we’re headed towards. “Looks like a gigantic freakin’ egg, doesn’t it?”

Josh looks past me, to the golden-bright alcove we’re headed to. He manages a nod, and his eyes start glazing over again. That seems to be happening a lot, tonight.

If I didn’t know any better — like if he wasn’t wearing that crow-black suit and that slicked back hair — I would’ve thought him a dreamer. He definitely seems to be slipping into sporadic daydreams.

Maybe he’s just tired.

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