Page 4 of Merry Little Wedding

“Sure what the hell. Itismy last night as a single lady.”

“That, it is.”

For fucking sure.

I come around to her side of the bar, holding out my hand for her to take and let me lead her to the dancefloor. Aurora’s hand slides into mine. It’s so small. So warm. Sparks from our first innocent, physical contact send a heated path straight to my chest.

“Beautiful name. Aurora.” In the middle of the dancefloor, I pull her to me. It isn’t a slow song, but I know immediately, it’s our song now.

“How do you know my name? You didn’t accept my credit card.”

“Your friend mentioned it outside.”

“That’s Liz. She’s a bit of a character.”

“We all have our quirks. I’m Boone.”

“Nice meeting you, Boone.”

“Likewise.” Aurora follows my lead with ease. I spin her, slow. I dip her, low. “You’re a good dancer.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I do own a nightclub.”

“Touché.” Aurora grins.

The DJ mixes a pop beat with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. “Tell me you don’t like this song.”

“It’s okay. Don’t have to love it to dance to it.” What else does she love, is what I want to know. Where did she learn to dance? Why’s she hate Christmas?

What do those pretty lips taste like?

I want to know—everything. It’s like I’m physically fucking desperate to learn this woman inside and out, preferably as soon as possible.

“It’s your night.” She doesn’t realize I’m slowly leading her toward the little flowering green shrub until it’s hanging from the rafters right over our heads. “I know you don’t like Christmas but…” I crane my neck to look up at the mistletoe, and her gaze follows. We’re quiet a second. And then like magnets our eyes link back to each other’s.

“What happens if we don’t kiss?”

“I think an elf bites off its own hand when that happens.”

“What-ever!” She playfully slaps a hand to my chest. It doesn’t hurt. She’d never hurt me. In the strobe lighting, all the colors of her irises flicker and brighten, one shade at a time. Amber. Chocolate and gold. A hint of chartreuse. I can’t help but stare into them. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That thing you’re doing…with your face.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she teases. If any of my employees are watching this, and I’msurethey’re watching, I’m going to get hell for it when I see them all again next week. Don’t really care in the moment. Won’t care in any moment. Not for this. God, this. How is she even doing this?

Aurora’s looking at me studiously, her head tilted to one side. Her hands on my neck. The warm, sweet berry scent of her filling my nostrils, filling me, waking my heart up.

“What?”

“Do you like, get off on stealing another man’s girl?” she asks.

A low laugh rolls from my chest. “I’m not stealing another man’s girl,” I whisper, running my fingers up the soft, smooth curve of her back, and into her hair. “I’m kissing…my girl. Right now under this mistletoe.”

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