Page 93 of Mistletoe & Magic
“Are you done? I found a book!”
Remy chuckles against my mouth. “Guess we’re done for now.”
We end up on the rug in the middle of the library, Junie between us with a massive hardcover open on her lap. She’s so animated, reading aloud every other line, her little finger tracing the words as best she can.
Remy leans back on one hand, his thigh pressed against mine, the heat of him grounding me. I sneak a glance at him while Junie is reading, the strong line of his jaw, the way his mouth curves just a little when he watches her.
This man.
He catches me looking and smirks, mouthing,what?
Nothing,I mouth back, smiling.
He doesn’t look away for a long time.
When the story is over, Junie yawns so wide her jaw pops.
“Bedtime,” Remy says gently.
“Nooo,” Junie protests, flopping dramatically onto the rug. “I want to stay here with Ivy.”
I smooth her hair back from her face. “You will, bug. But you still need to sleep.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, climbing to her feet. She wraps her arms around my waist in a quick squeeze, then looks up at Remy. “Can Ivy tuck me in?”
He glances at me, and my chest goes warm.
“If she wants to,” he says.
“I do,” I say without hesitation.
Junie takes my hand and pulls me down the hall toward her room. I go through her routine with her and tuck her in under her quilt, and she looks up at me with sleepy eyes as she clutches Arnold, her narwhal.
“Are you really staying forever?” she whispers.
“Forever,” I promise.
“Good,” she murmurs, already drifting off. “I like when we’re all together.”
My throat feels tight as I brush a kiss across her hair and slip quietly out of the room.
When I turn back toward the library, Remy is leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching me with an expression that makes my knees feel loose.
“She loves you,” he says quietly.
I nod. “I love her, too.”
He straightens and comes closer, one step, then another, until my back finds the doorframe and my breath catches.
“You love me, too?” he asks, mouth tipping into that teasing half smile that always gets me.
“You know I do,” I whisper.
“Say it anyway.”
“I love you, Remington Bennett.”
His smile softens. He cups my face like it is something precious, and when he kisses me, it’s slow at first, a promise I can feel, then deeper, hotter, until the world narrows to the slide of his mouth and the careful way his hands anchor me. Home settles in my chest like a warm light.
