Page 38 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

“Yeah, I guess when we’re young we care too much. I pretended I didn’t give a rat’s ass, but I cared too much about being dismissed. I felt raw with it.”

“I don’t know if it’s just being young,” she said. “But I’m learning that I can’t be who I thought I should be or who others expected me to be. Teaching has taught me how richly diverse people are and the value in that diversity. I had my students, my colleagues, and then I always had singing. That was the one thing I was good at.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, Chloe. Better than good.”

“I’m finally starting to believe that,” she said softly.

They were quiet. The night was a cloak billowing around them. No agenda.

Don’t kiss her.

Don’t kiss her.

The warning rang in his ears as Chloe took a sip of punch, then stole the decision from him. She stood on tiptoes, hooked her hand behind his head, and angled him down for a kiss.

*

I’m kissing RustinWildish!

The thought shot lighting through her body with the visceral punch of fireworks.

His lips, firm and sensual, stilled for a moment, and Chloe, who could count the men she’d kissed on one hand and have digits remaining, seized her courage and coaxed, sliding her tongue along the seam of his mouth and nibbled his bottom lip.

Then his lips parted, and he kissed her back, making her toes curl and her heart thunder in her ears.

He broke the kiss, briefly resting his forehead against hers, and she breathed him in.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she admitted.

“Bad-boy fantasy?” His mocking tone cut through her thrill.

“No. Rustin fantasy,” she corrected.

She reached for his hands. “You’re too strong. Too determined to fall in with anyone else’s outdated and narrow-minded thinking.”

His eyes darkened and he scowled, but she continued because if she didn’t say this now, she’d likely never get the chance.

“When I was a kid, I saw you as a fierce, independent spirit, so far out in front of everyone else, a fighter for what you wanted, for justice, for freedom from all the BS little boxes everyone wanted to kick you into, and I felt… I felt…” She clenched her hands together and held her fists against her wilding thumping heart.

“Inspired. I wanted to have your courage. Youstalkedthrough life, where I felt the urge to hide and be an observer. I wished your magic would rub off on me.”

He huffed a laugh, or maybe he choked on his spit. “Pretty sure you were the only one with that opinion, Chloe.”

“Unique,” she said, wishing she could smile, relishing her individuality instead of feeling always on the outside looking in.

But no. She was leaving her childhood insecurities in the past where they belonged.

“Youare unique, Chloe, then and now,” he said, trailing one knuckle along the side of her face.

His eyes darkened to charcoal. “I always noticed you. Thought you were too sweet to be a Maye.”

“I always wanted to be a Maye,” she said, heart heavy.

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t be anyone but who you are.”

It was the sweetest thing anyone, except Grandma Millie, had ever said to her.

The moment stretched out, fraught with things unsaid, expectant, but not a bit awkward.

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