Page 48 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
“Honestly, probably zero. But it’s the holiday season.” He takes another sip, then puts his down on the table. “I’ll make you a deal. You can have as many as you want. I’ll be the designated driver and make sure you get home safely.”
All at once, Holly hears the familiar opening bars of Smokey Robinson’s “Christmas Everyday,” and she freezes.
“Holly? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Holly struggles to regain her composure. This is the songthat she and Matt had been practicing a cute ballroom-style choreography to for their first dance as a married couple. She looks down at the punch glass in her hand and, slugs it back, then reaches for his.
“Whoa, Holly. Do you want some water?”
“No,” Holly says, feeling her head grow pleasantly fogged from the strong drink. “I want to dance. Do you want to dance?”
She leads him out to the dance floor and finds herself feeling bold and sexy in her glittery top, formfitting pants, and high heels. She forces the choreography out of her mind and dances in a different way, swaying her hips and looking up into Aiden’s eyes. “I just love this song,” she says. “I haven’t heard it in a while.” The uncertainty in his expression disappears, and soon he’s dancing along with her, and they’re laughing. She grabs both his hands in hers and shimmies her hips, and he does the same. And then the song abruptly changes, and all at once, Judy Garland is singing mournfully about having yourself a merry little Christmas.
“Martin McLaren from the sports shop DJs every year by putting his iPod on shuffle,” Aiden explains. “You really never know what you’re going to get.”
Holly isn’t quite sure how it happened, but she and Aiden are now close, staring into each other’s eyes. Aiden’s hands are on her waist, and hers are around his neck. What herbest friend insists is the saddest Christmas song ever has suddenly become incredibly romantic. A lock of Aiden’s hair has fallen into his eyes, and Holly finds herself reaching up and smoothing it away from his forehead before she even fully realizes what she’s doing.
“Sorry,” she says. “I hope that wasn’t too…” But she doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Perhaps it’s the two glasses of punch, but she’s feeling lightheaded and happy. She holds tighter to Aiden’s shoulders and his presence steadies her, as does his gaze.
“You all right? You downed that punch pretty fast.”
“I’m really good,” Holly says, and knows this is the truth. She’s happy right where she is, with Aiden close. His touch, his smell. “Aiden, I…” She presses her lips together. What should she say? How does one do this?Shouldshe be doing this? Just days ago, she was engaged. Now she’s in the arms of a man from her past, someone who has quickly become a touchstone in her life. A source of joy. A friend—but more than that; she’s smart enough to know this. She likes him. A lot. Suddenly, it’s as if a mini version of Ivy is standing on her shoulder, whispering in her ear,Then tell him that, silly.
“I like you,” she blurts, then feels herself blushing. “Oh, wow, that sounded so high school of me. I’m mortified.”
“Well, wearein a high school gym,” Aiden says. “And we did go to high school together. And…maybe you’re just going along with the vibe you’re getting from me. Because Ilike you, Holly. The truth is, I always have.” He pulls her a little bit closer. “In fact, I have a confession to make. I had the biggest crush on you in high school. To the point that I wrote you an incredibly sappy Christmas card and slid it into your locker.”
Holly stops dancing and stares up at him in shock. “Wait a minute, that wasyou? I still have that card! I swear, those were the sweetest things anyone has ever written to me! I memorized it!”
“Please tell me you did not. I think it was a bit maudlin.”
“It wasn’t. It was sweet.” She closes her eyes. “ ‘I’m writing to wish you a very Merry Christmas—and to profess my deep affection for you.’ ” She opens her eyes. “That was really you?”
“It was me. I did think you were the best girl in the entire school. I thought you were really pretty, and I was a teenage boy, so of course I focused on that.” He smiles a sweet smile. “But you were so much more. Not just smart, not just kind…but totally unique. You were funny and kind of weird. And yet also sophisticated. There was no one like you. There still isn’t.” He has her in his arms again, and they’re swaying to the music.
“It was really special to me, Aiden. That card made me feel like I was someone other than just…Holly Beech. I always wondered who wrote it. Always. I can’t believe it wasyou.”
His shoulders are broad and firm beneath her fingers. His appealing scent, of soap and cedar and wood shavings, is all around her. His hands on her waist, his touch, send tingles in every direction, over every inch of her skin. What she wants, she realizes, is to kiss him. And she very much does not want to do that in front of an audience that includes almost all of Krimbo.
When the music switches gears again, this time to “Frosty the Snowman” by the Ronettes, Holly says, “Do you want to get out of here, by any chance?”
“Let’s go,” Aiden says, and there’s something in his voice that warms her to her core. She can barely resist reaching up and pulling his face and lips to hers right then, but instead lets him take her hand and lead her from the gym without a word to anyone else.
“What would you like to do?” he asks once they’re outside the gym and in the bracing cold air. Holly doesn’t think twice about it. With her high heels, she doesn’t have to stand on her tiptoes to reach his full, warm lips. She tilts her head and reaches for him, pulls him close and parts her lips.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, and he does. His lips are smooth and firm, and he tastes like cinnamon, sugar, a hint of mint. His tongue is gentle at first, then more exploratory, and she finds her hands exploring his body, too, running her fingers over his muscled back, down to his hips, over his ripped stomach.
“Aiden,” she whispers, “I like kissing you.”
“I like it, too,” he says, his smile both shy and sexy as he looks down at her, then pulls her in for more. She wants more, to go further. Would it really be okay to tell him so? She knows Ivy has done this many times; that if her best friend wants something, she asks for it, makes her needs and wants very clear. Holly has always gone a different route. A safer route.
What would it be like to act like someone different?
“I want you,” she murmurs, and is excited by the way this causes him to kiss her more deeply, to pull her closer. “Let’s go somewhere.”
He pulls himself back and looks down at her, his expression now searching. “Go where?” he asks.
“Show me your place? I haven’t seen it yet. I want to.” She hopes he gets her double meaning—because she knows she does want to. That she doesn’t want tothink; she wants to just feel, anddo. Yes, she’s had two strong glasses of snowflake punch, but she’s not drunk, just buzzed—and it’s giving her courage. Aiden is the one who wrote her that card, all those years ago. The one she has cherished without even knowing who it was from. His words have always reminded her that once, someone really saw her. It’s even more intoxicating than the punch. She reaches for his hand, and they walk toward his truck. He opens the door for her—but before she can climb in, he takes her hand and tugs her back,pressing her against the open door, one hand cupping her cheek and the other firm on the small of her back, pulling her tightly against him. He slowly lowers his mouth to hers, millimeter by millimeter, until she shivers, from anticipation and desire and from the cold of the night.
