Page 97 of Booked for the Holidays
“Bridget?” I call out. The hallway door swings open, and she walks out.
“Theo? What are you doing here?”
I shuffle toward the counter, cursing as my toe stubs the edge of one of the bookshelves.
“I wanted to come by and say hi.”
“Hey,” she answers with a smile. She ducks under the counter and heads my way. “How’s Mac? How was your day?”
“Not bad. Busy. Lucas finished the last figure for the contest. The pictures got hung, too. You can check those off your list. How was your day?”
“I baked five dozen cupcakes for a kid’s birthday party. I got berated for selling books that depict sex on page. A college guy hit on me, thinking I was 22.”
“Wow. Busy day. A college guy, huh?”
She shrugs and toys with the ends of her hair. “He’s a little young for my taste. Besides, I’ve kind of been seeing this older guy who’s pretty wonderful.”
I huff and thread my arm around her shoulders. “Do you want to see multiple people? He probably has better stamina than me.”
Her cheek finds my chest, resting there, above my heart. A spot I hope she never leaves. She sighs, content. “No. I want to spend time with you. Just you, Theo.”
“I want to spend time with just you, too, Bridget.”
Her chin lifts. She presses a kiss to my throat. Then my chin, my cheek. My eyes flutter closed and it’s my turn for a contented sigh, one hand splayed out over her lower back, the other wrapped in her hair.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks. Her finger grazes down my shirt, and I shudder.
“Supposed to go to dinner with my buddies. Fuck them, though.”
Her chuckle is warm and light. “I don’t want you to miss out spending time with your friends, but maybe you can stay? For a little?”
“Yeah,” I mumble into her hair. “As long as you want.”
I’m learning this woman is the single person on Earth besides my kid I would alter my entire schedule for. I’ve been doing it slowly over the last few weeks. Driving to a Christmas tree lot with her by my side. Popping in twice during the day. Staying late so I can walk her to her car. Listening as she tells a joke that’s horriblynotfunny, but I laugh anyway because it gets her to smile.
Andfuck, I love her smiles.
Small seconds, many minutes, dozens of hours. It feels kind of insane, really, to feel so connected to another person. To let myself open up and let her see every part of me. But I am, and I do, and the best part is she’s letting me see her in return.
She’s staying.
“I missed you,” Bridget whispers. Her lips brush over mine, a ghost of a kiss. My arms circle around her waist, like we’re slow dancing in the store without an audience.
“I missed you
“I missed you too,” I say. I kiss her back fully, leaving no question about the accuracy of the statement. She melts into me, molding to my form.
“Theo.”
“Yeah, princess?” My lips trail down her throat, marking the small spot below her ear I know causes her to shiver.
“I want you.”
“You have me.”
“No. Iwantyou,” she clarifies with emphasis, right leg hooking around my thigh.
My movements stall. My breathing stops. “Here? In the bookstore? I haven’t even bought you dinner yet.”
