Page 6 of Yours to Ho Ho Hold
I shake my head and laugh. Actually laugh because he couldn’t be more wrong if he tried.
He goes still. “Wait, you’re saying you don’t like Christmas? Like at all? But you’re reading Santa-smut.”
“I hate Christmas. Loathe it, even. Why do you think I’m flying to the beach on possibly the second busiest travel day of the year?” I snap my lips shut, realizing I’m giving him more information to work with. He’s still got one more assumption to make.
“Why? Why do you hate the happiest holiday of the entire year?”
I shake my head. “None of your business. It’s your turn, by the way.”
“I can’t believe I’m sitting next to a joyless monster,” he teases, pretending to scoot away from me. “Okay, here’s the deciding assumption.” He taps his fingers on his armrest as he thinks. “You like everyone to think you’re tough, and you don’t like Christmas … but deep down, you’re just a big softie, and Christmas is really your favorite holiday—”
I open my mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but a loud noise coming from the wing of the plane steals my attention. The lights in the cabin flicker off and then back on. I close my eyes and clench my teeth, bracing myself for whatever happens next.
“Sorry, folks, but we’ve just had a run in with a flock of birds. We’re going to need to emergency land to have a mechanic take a look. I know you’re all trying to get somewhere for Christmas, and I’m truly sorry about the inconvenience. We’ll try to have this sorted out as fast as we can, but it may not be repaired until the morning.”
The passengers all grumble in annoyance, and my wide eyes look to Drew’s. For reassurance? I’m not exactly sure. But when he places a hand over mine, which is gripping the armrest so hard my knuckles are white, I don’t swat him away.
“It’s okay, Holly. I’m right here. You’re safe. They’re just being cautious,” he reassures me, which should be odd, considering he’s a complete stranger. But instead, my brain fixates on another minor detail …
“How do you know my name?”
ChapterThree
Drew
“I’m Santa Claus, remember?”I gesture to my suit that’s now fully opened at the chest. “I know everything.”
Her eyes widen, and the faintest hint of a smile pulls at her lips. I have a sneaking suspicion she enjoys this little charade more than she’s letting on.
I lean in and whisper, “I also read it on your boarding pass. For someone who says they hate Christmas, your name sure is ironic, isn’t it?”
“My parents’ favorite holiday is Christmas,” she admits, and I squeeze her trembling hand, trying to keep her distracted.
Truth be told, that’s what I’ve been doing this entire flight. It’s why I stole her book, teased her, and mostly why I suggested we play the game. I was also desperate for a chance to take her out, and I didn’t think she’d agree without a little incentive.
“Is that why you hate the greatest holiday of the year? Because your parents love it?” I press a little more.
She swallows a gulp. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Seems complicated. There’s got to be a story there.” I stroke my thumb over her hand in soothing circles, surprised she hasn’t brushed me away yet.
I can’t explain it, but I feel oddly protective of her, even though we literally just met. I feel like our souls know each other. Like when I first saw her there was immediate attraction, followed by an odd sense of recognition deep inside me.
I hate that she’s so scared right now, and I wish I could take her fear from her and wear it as my own.
She opens her mouth and closes it, then finally says, “It’s too long of a story to get into right now, but all you need to know is I disappointed them a long time ago, and that’s something I have to live with every single day. Christmas is a painful reminder—” She scrunches her face up as the plane hits another patch of turbulence.
I glance out the window to see the plane descending to a small airport in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. It’s dark outside, and there aren’t many city lights—or cars for that matter—and sheets of snow blanket the ground beneath.
I bring our connected hands to my mouth and plant a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. “One of my favorite things about Christmas is the magic of it all. Anything is possible if you believe in it. You can always start fresh.”
Her deep brown eyes meet mine, and though I can’t read her mind, she looks like she’s considering my words. Her lips part to speak just as the wheels of the plane touch down with a hard thud.
And just like that, our moment is broken as passengers leap from their seats and begin shuffling around to retrieve their bags. She yanks her hand away and wipes it against the leg of her jeans, looking everywhere but at me.
I move in front of her, trying to catch her eye, but she’s a stubborn thing and ignores me completely as she reaches under the seat for her bag.
“Did you just wipe my cooties off your hand?”
