Page 102 of Merry Me
Riley: An icon. A legend. A cautionary tale.
Casey: Honestly? At this point, lean in. Put it in the wedding program. “Natalie: Sister of the Bride, Officially off the Market, Bedroom Audio Available upon Request.”
Riley: Ophelia says she liked that one, Case.
Me: Tell FiFi that this is serious. What if I can’t even look at him without my knees turning to water and my frontal lobe turning to static?
Riley: That’s not fear, babe. That’s forever.
Casey: He growled “you’re mine” and you basically purred in surrender… This is not a drill. This is endgame.
Me: I’m reiterating my need for a spiritual rinse and maybe a seven-step recovery plan for my heart. Possibly also for my vagina.
Riley: What you need to do is let him growl at you again. For science.
Me: …
CHAPTER 20
NATALIE
Iknew I was in trouble the moment Easton pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes and slipped on dark sunglasses before stepping out of his truck in front of the mall.
Nobody that ridiculously good-looking ever blended into a crowd—certainly not at Christmas time, when people were already half feral with stress, peppermint mochas, and BOGO sales.
“You realize you look like every celebrity who’s trying not to look like a celebrity, right?” I asked as he helped me out of his truck.
He grinned, adjusting his hat with exactly the amount of smugness required to make my knees misbehave. “What do you want me to do? Wear a fake mustache and trench coat?”
“That might actually help,” I muttered, falling in step beside him as we headed toward the entrance. “Though, then we’d just look like we were reenacting a live-actionCarmen Sandiego.”
Easton glanced sideways at me, lips twitching. “I think you secretly want me to get mobbed by fans.”
“Trust me,” I said, clutching my purse like a shield. “Getting crushed to death by overly enthusiastic teenagers waving glitter signs is not how I envision going out. Glitter is the herpes of craft supplies—I’ve told you this before.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t expect any homemade glitter signs from you anytime soon?”
I narrowed my eyes, shuddering dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that, Maddox.”
He chuckled, reaching out without thinking to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
It was such a simple thing.
Barely a breath of touch. But my heart stuttered.
Becausesomethinghad changed.
It wasn’t just the echo of his voice in my head—You’re mine,Natalie.Or the way I’d saidI’m yoursback like I was under some kind of slow-burn spell.
It was everything since.
The way his hand brushed mine now—not an accident, not a hesitant maybe, not some faded ghost of what we used to be. His fingers threaded firmly through mine, as if he’d claimed the right to touch me whenever he wanted.
And the wildest part? I didn’t pull away.
And we were in public…
We went through the sliding doors, immediately hit by the scent of clove-studded oranges and cinnamon and the cheerful drone of “Jingle Bells” playing for probably the millionth time this season. The mall was pure holiday frenzy: packed crowds, lines snaking from every register, fake snow fluttering from the ceiling in some places, and a Santa in the center of it all, who looked desperately in need of retirement.
