Page 80 of Booked for the Holidays
I mentally run through the recipe, one I’ve done a hundred times, ensuring we checked off each step. “I don’t think so. I made sure–what thehell?” I squeal.
The chocolate on his finger is now on my cheek, a line running from my forehead to my chin. He emits a laugh. Lazy, amused, his breath kisses the bridge of my nose. The sound swirls in my stomach, a tide pool in the ocean. The chuckle is defined. Intentional. It’s forme.
My eyes narrow and I reach past him to grab a swipe of residual chocolate, the last of the batch, and palm his face. A drop of chocolate rolls down his neck, catching in the hollow of his throat, staining the collar of his crisp, white shirt. He dips his chin, processing the attack. His movements pause. His tongue darts out, licking up the blob of batter lingering near his nose.
Then, he grins.
THIRTY-ONE
BRIDGET
The smile is bright,like the sun at high noon. A rainbow after a storm. Composed of every ounce of his being, it’s an exploding stick of dynamite.
Devastating.
Perfect.
“Bad move, princess,” Theo murmurs in warning.
I’ve never liked pet names, cringing at how pretentious and juvenile they can sound. Butprincess…
Princess I can get behind.
The word slithers down my body. It takes residence between my breasts, above my heart. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels like the first time he’smeantit. I smile at his threat, wondering how he’s going to retaliate. There’s two seconds of questioning before I have my answer.
Flour.
The bag of flour, tossed in my face and sticking to my cheek.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he adds.
“I always know how to finish,” I volley back. I grab the bag of chocolate chips and tilt it over his head. I pause, giving him a look.
His hand circles my wrist. His thumb runs over my pulse point once, then twice. Up and down. A metronome, finding a pattern and leaving me with a shaky exhale.
“I’d think very, very carefully about your next move, Boylston.”
His remark lacks malice and vexation. He’s not upset but rather curious, I think, to see what I’ll do next. I assess the threat and decide to be a little reckless.
“Catch me if you can, Gardner. Be careful, I’d hate for you to fall and break a hip. I hear recovery time is longer for those approaching fifty.”
I pull out of his hold, dumping the remaining chips into his hair. The brown morsels cling to his locks, scattered within the lighter shade. I take off, darting out from behind the counter and running toward one of the bookshelves, searching for a safe haven.
His clunky footsteps, the ones I have memorized, follow me. When I peer over my shoulder, the laughter that flits out of me can’t be stopped.
A splatter of batter over the right lens of his glasses. Chocolate on his cheek, continuing to infiltrate his neck. Hair sticking up, discombobulated.
The man is a complete mess.
But…
Hissmile.
It’s still present. Vibrant, wider now. I shuffle to the middle of the store and he meets me. His elbows drop to the wood, a barrier between us.
“What am I going to do with you, Bridget?”
“What do you want to do with me, Theo?”
