Page 6 of Booked for the Holidays
That is what is messing with my mind. I’ve only known Juniper as June Bug, the teenage version, and the woman standing in front of me is not her. It’s a mind fuck seeing her this way. Standing close and inhaling her scent; sugar plum and sage. Wishing she weren’t my best friend’s little sister so I wouldn’t feel guilty about leaning in closer and wondering what her lips would feel like on mine.
Get ahold of yourself, Liam. I can appreciate a woman and not do anything about it. I’ve done it plenty of times. I’m certain of it.
She picks up a bottle of peppermint liqueur from an endcap near the register. “Oh! We need this for the hot cocoa bar.”
“Grand.” The less I say, the better.
Suddenly, a woman approaches with a tray of tiny plastic cups filled with a creamy liquid.
“Would you like to try a sample?” she offers.
“What is it?” Juniper asks.
“Eggnog with anejo tequila.” The employee hands us each a small plastic glass.
“Eggnog and tequila?” Juniper raises an eyebrow.
“Apparently.” I examine the liquid in the cup, then smile at Juniper. “Let’s give it a go.”
“Cheers.” Juniper clinks her cup against mine.
Our eyes lock as we sip. The nutty-flavored liquid slides down the back of my throat, the tequila giving it just enough warmth to heat my chest.
Juniper’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’s good.”
I smile. “Yeah, it is.”
We both laugh, the warmth of the tequila-laced eggnog spreading through more than just our limbs. Something shifts—just a little, but enough that the tension between us starts to unravel.
“We’re tasting holiday drinks at the front,” the woman says, “Eggnogs, whiskey ciders, and mulled wine, too.”
Juniper’s eyes light up. “You love mulled wine.” She grabs my hand without thinking, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When her fingers, soft and warm, wrap around mine, a current zips through me so sharp I almost flinch. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, but I feel it everywhere.
I let her pull me to the front of the store where the woman with the samples is setting up another tasting.
At the sight of Juniper’s enthusiasm, I force out a grin. “Careful. You keep handing me samples, I’ll get tipsy and tell you all my secrets.”
She tips her chin up, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m okay with that.”
It knocks something loose in my chest. The way she says it, so easy, so sure. Like it’s no big thing for someone to know all of me.
I don’t think I’ve ever had that. Not really. Someone who’d want every hidden piece and wouldn’t cringe at the prickly parts.
I swallow the thought before it can take root.
She turns to grab the next glass, but her gaze catches on the ink curling along my forearm. “How many tattoos do you have?”
I lift a brow. “Tattoos?”
She nods, eyes flicking to the one barely hidden under my sweater. “Like a dozen?”
“Depends on how you count them. Some blend together. Some I forget are even there.” I pause, then smirk. “Why? You taking inventory?”
“I’m just curious,” she says, tone light but her eyes still on mine. “They feel like stories. And you don’t hand those out easily.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve known Juniper for years—my best friend’s little sister, the one always hovering on the edge of the group, observant, quiet, bright—but this is the first time it’s ever felt like we see each other. That she sees me.
And the worst part?
