Page 42 of Booked for the Holidays
“Jasper invited me.”
Of course he did.
I jab a carrot in the spinach dip.
“How was your day?” I ask, trying for casual.
His eyes flick to my bandaged hand before he answers. “Good. Made some calls, sat in on a meeting with Jasper. Nothing too wild.”
“Hmm.” I bite the carrot in half; aware I’m basically vibrating with irritation.
His lips twitch. “Did you miss me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Not even my expert bagging skills?”
“Charlotte’s back,” I sniff. “I survived.”
He dips his head, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “You sure about that?”
My mom’s voice cuts in before I can fire back. “Liam, you don’t mind helping Juniper with the house, do you? With her burn, she’ll need an extra pair of hands.”
Liam beams at me like this is the greatest Christmas gift he could get. “I’m all hers.”
And before I can argue, he slides an arm around my back, steering me toward gumdrops, frosting bags, and utter ruin.
TWELVE
LIAM
The Jensens’festively decorated living room feels like a portal back to last Christmas Eve when the realization that I had feelings for my best friend’s sister hit me like a lightning strike. The memory of Juniper’s lips soft and sweet against mine, and how I was too much of a coward to claim what I wanted.
She shifts beside me now, our elbows brushing as she steadies the chimney I’m propping up with a candy cane. She’s pretending to be annoyed about building this thing with me, but her focus is all in and I can’t help but be charmed by how serious she takes a frosting battle.
“You’re weirdly good at this,” she says, brow furrowed as she presses a gumdrop into place.
“At one point, I wanted to be an architect.”
She pauses, surprise flickering across her face. “Really?”
I nod, adding another swirl of icing along the roofline. “My parents are both architects. It was the plan. Until it wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Firefly.”
She breaks eye contact to reach for the tray of candy, her sleeve brushing my arm, the faint scent of sweet plums and something warm drifting my way.
When I finish the roof seam, she gently presses the two pieces together. She does it delicately, mindful of the bandage on her hand. I want to tell her to stop, to let me do the tricky parts, but I know better than to tell Juniper Jensen she needs help she doesn’t want.
“We have to beat Stella and Jasper.” Her voice drops conspiratorially. “They can’t have everything. They’re disgustingly in love, they’re engaged, they’re probably going to win the ‘Architectural Ambition’ award just for existing.”
I grin at her little rant. “So, sabotage?”
“Not sabotage. Just ruthless, festive competition.” She points her piping bag at me like a wand. “Don’t mess this up, Hargrove.”
“Noted.” I lean closer, careful not to bump her burnt hand. “Whimsical theme, right? Lots of pink?”
